The Writings of Mark Twain [pseud.]

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GIFT OF
Yoshl S, Kuno

I

p'

f

!^uiitor*B Katiottal Icimm

THE WRITINGS OF

MARK TWAIN
Volume XV

f

^

* J

' •> ^ %J '
I » « ' w

I • • • -

» • »

* •'

• , - - - ' .

DOFF THY RAGS AND DON THESE SPLENDORS

THE

Prince and the Pauper

A TALE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE OF ALL AGES

By mark twain

(Samuel L. Clemens)

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON

J J

J J

' J J ' t J

r . J ' ' ■> '

Mr

. /-

k

.< ''>

Copyright z88x, 1899, 1909, by Samubl L.

^

All rights resenmd.

•
• •

• • <

To those good-mannered and agreeable children
Susie and Clara Clemens this book is affec-
tionately inscribed by their father.

M

M192939

Thb quality of mercy • • •

is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes ;
Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes
Hie throoM monarch better than his crown.

Merchant of Venice^

I WILL set down a tale as it was told to me by
one who had it of his father, which latter had it
of his father, this last having in like manner had it
of his father — and so on, back and still back, three
hundred years and more, the fathers transmitting it
to the sons and so preserving it. It may be history,
it may be only a legend, a tradition. It may have
happened, it may not have happened: but it could
have happened. It may be that the wise and the
learned believed it in the old days ; it may be that
only the unlearned and the simple loved it and
credited it.

(vfl)

ILLUSTRATIONS

^'DOFP THY RAGS AND DON THESE

SPLENDORS" F,T,Merm

^XISS, SIR MILES HENDON» KNIGHT** F. T. ATtrra . • 109

•«QH, inr CHILDI*' ii:r.Msrrm • • 273

CONTENTS

CHAPTER L
The Birth of the Prince and the Panper •••••• c • 17

CHAPTER II.
Tom'f Early life 19

CHAPTER IIL
Tom's Meeting with the Prince •• 26

CHAPTER IV.
The Prince's Troubles begin 36

CHAPTER V.
Tom as a P^utridan 42

CHAPTER VI.
Tom ReceiTes Instructions •••••$2

CHAPTER VII.
Tom's FiiBt Royal Dinner • • • • • 63

CHAPTER VIII.
The Question of the Seal •••••• 68

CHAPTER IX.
The River Pageant 73

CHAPTER X.

llie Prince in the Toils 76

(a)

xii Contents

CHAPTER XL
At GidkSiall • • • • • 88

CHAFTER Xn.
The Prince and HU Deliverer 95

CHAPTER Xm.
The Disappearance of the Prince • • • • Ill

CHAPTER XIV.
«<Le Roi est Mort— Vhre le Roi*' II8

CHAPTER XV.
Tom as King I34

CHAPTER XVI.
Tbt State Dinner ••••••• 150

CHAPTER XVn.
Foo-foo the First 155

CHAPTER XVIII.
The Prince with the Tramps • 170

CHAPTER XDC
The Prince with the Peasanto l8a

CHAPTER XX.
The Prince and the Hennit • 190

CHAPTER XXL
Hendoo to the Rescue ...••. 199

CHAPTER XXIL
A l^cdm of TVeacheiy 9o6

CHAPTER XXm.
The M)oe a Prisoner ••••••• S14

CHAPTER XXIV.
Tlie EecKpc •••• SI9

Contents xiii

CHAPTER XXV.
HendoQ Hall •« 234

CHAPTER XXVI.
Disowned ••••• 234

CHAPTER XXVn.
In Prison ....•.•••••• 240

CHAPTER XXVra.
The SacrifidB • • . • ••••••• 254

CHAPTER XXIX.
To London ••••••• 260

CHAPTER XXX.
Tom's Pkogiess •••• 364

CHAPTER XXXI.
Tht RecognidoQ Ptocesoon •••••• 268

CHAPTER XXXn.
Coconation Day •••• ••••••• 277

CHAPTER XXXra.
Edward as King • . • • 294

CONCLUSION.
Justice and Retribation •• 305

Moras •••••• 309

Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, to Lord Cromwell, on tkt
Hrtk of the Prince of Wales (afterward Edward VI.).

FROM THE national MANUSCRIPTS PRESERVED BY THE BRTTISa

GOVERNMENT.

Hugh Lattmsr, Biskop of Worcester, to Lord Cromwbll, oh tk^
Hrtk of the PuNCB OF Walbs {afterward Edward VI.)*

FROM THB NAUOKAL llANUSCXIPrS FRBSBRVBD BY THS BBmSH

GOVBRNMBNT.

Ryght honorable, SahUem in Christo Jeiu^ and Syr here ys no
lesse joynge and rejossTnge in tbes partees for the byrth of our prynce»
hoom we hmigiirde lor so longe, then ther was (I trow), inter vicincs
att the byrth of S. I. Baptyste, as thys berer. Master Erance, can telle
yon. Ciode gyife us aUe grace, to ydde dew thankes to our Lorde
Gode, Gode of Inglonde, lor verely He hathe shoyd Hym selff Ciode
of Inglonde, or rather an Inglyssh Gode, yf we consydyr and pondyr
welle aUe Hys procedynges with us from tyme to tyme. He hath over-
cumme aUe our yUnesse with Hys excedynge goodnesse, so that we ar
now moor then compellyd to serve Hym, seke Hys £^oiy, promott Hys
wurde, yf the Derylle of aUe Devylles be natt in us< We have now
the stooppe of yayne tmstes ande the stey of ya]me expectations ; lett
us aUe pray for hys presenratione. And I for my partt wylle wyssh that
hys Grace allways have, and evyn now from the begynynge, Govemares,
Instructores and offyceres of lyght jugmente, ne optimum ingenium
nan eftimd educatione depravetur.

Butt whatt a grett fowUe am 1 1 So, whatt devotione shoyth many
tymys butt lytelle dyscretionel Ande thus the Gode of Inglonde be
ever with yon in alle your pi uced y uges.

The 19 of October.

Yonies, H. L. B. of Wnroestere, now att Hartlebuiy.

Yf yon wolde excytt thys berere to be moore hartye igren the abuse
of ymagiy or mor forwaide to promotte the veiyte, ytt myght doo
goode. Natt that ytt came of me, butt of your selffe, &c.

{Addressed) To the Rys^ Honorable Looide P. Seafle hys
synguler gode Lorde.

(XT)

THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER

• •••• • « ••

• ••••• • **•

••••••• . *••

• • •• •

• _•

• • « 4 • o^ •

CHAPTER L

THB BIRTH OP THB PRINCE AND THE PAUPER

IN the ancient city of London , on a certain autumn
day in the second quarter of the sixteenth cen-
tury, a boy was born to a poor family of the name
of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day
another English child was born to a rich family of
the name of Tudor, who did want him. All Eng-
land wanted him too. England had so longed for
him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him,
that, now that he was really come, the people went
nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged
and kissed each other and cried. Everybody took
a holiday, and high and low, rich and poor, feasted
and danced and sang, and got very mellow; and
they kept this up for days and nights together. By
day, London was a sight to see, with gay banners
waving from every balcony and house-top, and
splendid pageants marching along. By night, it
was again a sight to see, with its great bonfires at
every corner, and its troops of revelers making
merry around them. There was no talk in all Eng-
land but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of
2 (17)

• »■

• • •

• t c

• ••

• » «

It

* •

Tlid'^^nce and the Pauper

• • • •

• •

Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, uncon-
scious of all this fuss, and not knowing that great
lords and ladies were tending him and watching
over him — and not caring, either. But there was
no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty, lapped in
his poor rags, except among the family of paupers
whom he had just come to trouble with his presence.

CHAPTER II.

TOM'S EARLY LIPB

LET us skip a number of years.
London was fifteen hundred years old, and
was a great town — for that day. It had a hundred
thousand inhabitants — some think double as many.
The streets were very narrow, and crooked, and
dirty, especially in the part where Tom Canty lived,
which was not far from London Bridge. The
houses were of wood, with the second story project-
ing over the first, and the third sticking its elbows
out beyond the second. The higher the houses
grew, the broader they grew. They were skeletons
of strong criss-cross beams, with solid material
between, coated with plaster. The beams were
painted red or blue or black, according to the
owner's taste, and this gave the houses a very pic-
turesque look. The windows were small, glazed
with little diamond-shaped panes, and they opened
outward, on hinges, like doors.

The house which Tom's father lived in was up a
foul little pocket called Offal Court, out of Pudding
Lane. It was small, decayed, and rickety, but it

(19)

20 The Prince and the Pauper

was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty' s
tribe occupied a room on the third floor. The
mother and father had a sort of bedstead in the
corner; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two
sisters, Bet and Nan, were not restricted — they had
all the floor to themselves, and might sleep where
they chose. There were the remains of a blanket
or two, and some bundles of ancient and dirty
straw, but these could not rightly be called beds,
for they were not organized ; they were kicked into
a general pile mornings, and selections made from
the mass at night, for service.

Bet and Nan were fifteen years old — twins. They
were good-hearted girls, unclean, clothed in rags,
and profoundly ignorant. Their mother was like
them. But the father and the grandmother were a
couple of fiends. They got drunk whenever they
could ; then they fought each other or anybody else
who came in the way; they cursed and swore al-
ways, drunk or sober ; John Canty was a thief, and
his mother a beggar. They made beggars of the
children, but failed to make thieves of them.
Among, but not of, the dreadful rabble that in-
habited the house, was a good old priest whom the
king had turned out of house aild home with a
pension of a few farthings, and he used to get the
children aside and teach them right ways secretly.
Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin, and
how to read and write ; and would have done the
same with the girls, but they were afraid of the

The Prince and the Pauper 21

jeers of their friends, who could not have endured
such a queer accomplishment in them.

All Ofial Court was just such another hive as
Canty's house. Drunkenness, riot, and brawling
were the order there, every night and nearly all
night long. Broken heads were as common as
hunger in that place. Yet little Tom was not un-
happy. He had a hard time of it, but did not

m

know it. It was the sort of time that all the Offal
Court boys had, therefore he supposed it was the
correct and comfortable thing. When he came
home empty-handed at night, he knew his father
would curse him and thrash him first, and that when
he was done the awful grandmother would do it all
over again and improve on it; and that away in the
night his starving mother would slip to him stealthily
with any miserable scrap or crust she had been able
to save for him by going hungry herself, notwith-
standing she was often caught in that sort of treason
and soundly beaten for it by her husband.

No, Tom's life went along well enough, especially
in summer. He only begged just enough to save
himself, for the laws against mendicancy were strin-
gent, and the penalties heavy ; so he put in a good
deal of his time listening to good Father Andrew's
charming old tales and legends about giants and
fairiesi dwarfs and genii, and enchanted castles, and
gorgeous kings and princes. His head grew to be
full of these wonderful things, and many a night as
he lay in the dark on his scant and offensive straw,

^

22 The Prince and the Pauper

tired, hungry, and smarting from a thrashing, he
unleashed his imagination and soon forgot his aches
and pains in delicious picturings to himself of the
charmed life of a petted prince in a regal palace.
One desire came in time to haunt him day and
night; it was to see a real prince, with his own
eyes. He spoke of it once to some of his Offal
Court comrades; but they jeered him and scoffecf
him so unmercifully that he was glad to keep his
dream to himself after that.

He often read the priest's old books and got him
to explain and enlarge upon them. His dreamings
and readings worked certain changes in him by and
by. His dream-people were so fine that he grew to
lament his shabby clothing and his dirt, and to wish
to be clean and better clad. He went on playing in
the mud just the same, and enjoying it, too; but
instead of splashing around in the Thames solely for
the fun of it, he began to find an added value in it
because of the washings and cleansings it afforded.

Tom could always find something going on around
the Maypole in Cheapside, and at the fairs; and
now and then he and the rest of London had a
chance to see a military parade when some famous
unfortunate was carried prisoner to the Tower, by
land or boat. One summer's day he saw poor
Anne Askew and three men burned at the stake in
Smithfield, and heard an ex-bishop preach a sermon
to them which did not interest him. Yes, Tom's
life was varied and pleasant enough, on the whole.

The Prince and the Pauper 23

By and by Tom's reading and dreaming about
princely life wrought such a strong effect upon him
that he began to act the prince, unconsciously. His
speech and manners became curiously ceremonious
and courtly, to the vast admiration and amusement
of his intimates. But Tom's influence among these
young people began to grow now, day by day ; and
in time he came to be loo}ced up to by them with a
sort of wondering awe, as a superior being. He
seemed to know so much ! and he could do and say
such marvelous things ! and withal, he was so deep
and wise! Tom's remarks and Tom's perform-
ances were reported by the boys to their elders ;
and these, also, presently began to discuss Tom
Canty, and to regard him as a most gifted and ex-
traordinary creature. Full-grown people brought
their perplexities to Tom for solution, and were often
astonished at the wit and wisdom of his decisions.
In fact, he was become a hero to all who knew him ex-
cept his own family — these only saw nothing in him.

Privately, after a while, Tom organized a royal
court! He was the prince; his special comrades
were guards, chamberlains, equerries, lords and
ladies in waiting, and the royal family. Daily the
mock prince was received with elaborate ceremonials
borrowed by Tom from his romantic readings ; daily
the great affairs of the mimic kingdom were dis-
cussed in the royal council, and daily his mimic
highness issued decrees to his imaginary armies,
navies, and viceroyalties.

24 The Prince and the Pauper

After which he would go forth in his rags and beg
a few farthings, eat his poor crust, take his custom-
ary cuffs and abuse, and then stretch himself upon
his handful of foul straw, and resume his empty
grandeurs in his dreams.

And still his desire to look just once upon a real
prince, in the flesh, grew upon him, day by day,
and week by week, until at last it absorbed all other
desires, and became the one passion of his life.

One January day, on his usual begging tour, he
tramped despondently up and down the region round
about Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap, hour
after hour, barefooted and cold, looking in at cook-
shop windows and longing for the dreadful pork-pies
and other deadly inventions displayed there — for to
him these were dainties iit for the angels ; that is,
judging by the smell, they were — for it had never
been his good luck to own and eat one. There was
a cold drizzle of rain ; the atmosphere was murky ;
it was a melancholy day. At night Tom reached
home so wet and tired and hungry that it was not
possible for his father and grandmother to observe
his forlorn condition and not be moved — after their
fashion ; wherefore they gave him a brisk cuffing at
once and sent him to bed. For a long time his pain
and hunger, and the swearing and fighting going on
in the building, kept him awake; but at last his
thoughts drifted away to far, romantic lands, and he
fell asleep in the company of jeweled and gilded
princelings who lived in vast palaces, and had ser-

The Prince and the Pauper 25

vants salaaming before them or flying to execute
their orders. And then, as usual, he dreamed that
he was a princeling himself.

All night long the glories of his royal estate shone
upon him ; he moved among great lords and ladies,
in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes, drinking in
delicious music, and answering the reverent obei-
sances of the glittering throng as it parted to make
way for him, with here a smile, and there a nod of
his princely head.

And when he awoke in the morning and looked
upon the wretchedness about him, his dream had
had its usual effect — it had intensified the sordid-
ness of his surroundings a thousand fold. Then
came bitterness, and heart-break, and tears.

CHAPTER III.

TOM*S MEETING WITH THE PRINCE

TOM got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away,
but with his thoughts busy with the shadowy
splendors of his night's dreams. He wandered
here and there in the city, hardly noticing where he
was going, or what was happening around him.
People jostled him and some gave him rough
speech ; but it was all lost on the musing boy. By
and by he found himself at Temple Bar, the farthest
from home he had ever traveled in that direction.
He stopped and considered a moment, then fell into
his imaginings again, and passed on outside the walls
of London. The Strand had ceased to be a country-
road then, and regarded itself as a street, but by a
strained construction ; for, though there was a toler-
ably compact row of houses on one side of it, there
were only some scattering great buildings on the
other, these being palaces of rich nobles, with ample
and beautiful grounds stretching to the river, —
grounds that are now closely packed with grim acres
of brick and stone.

Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and

rested himself at the beautiful cross built there by a

(a6)

The Prince and the Pauper 27

bereaved king of earlier days; then idled down a
quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's stately
palace, toward a far more mighty and majestic palace
beyond, — Westminster, Tom stared in glad wonder
at the vast pile of masonry, the wide-spreading
wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the huge
stone gateway, with its gilded bars and its magnifi-
cent array of colossal granite lions, and the other
signs and symbols of English royalty. Was the
desire of his soul to be satisfied at last? Here, in-
deed, was a king's palace. Might he not hope to
see a prince now, — a prince of flesh and blood, if
Heaven were willing?

At each side of the gilded gate stood a living
statue, that is to say, an erect and stately and
motionless man-at-arms, clad from head to heel in
shining steel armor. At a respectful distance were
many country folk, and people from the city, wait-
ing for any chance glimpse of royalty that might
offer. Splendid carriages, with splendid people in
them and splendid servants outside, were arriving
and departing by several other noble gateways that
pierced the royal enclosure.

Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was
moving slowly and timidly past the sentinels, with a
beating heart and a rising lu^e, when all at once he
caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle
that almost made him shoot for joy. Widiin was a
comely boy, tanned and brown with sturdy outdoor
sports and exercises, whose clothing was all of

28 The Prince and the Pauper

lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at his
hip a little jeweled sword and dagger ; dainty buskins
on his feet, with red heels; and on his head a jaunty
crimson cap, with drooping plumes fastened with a
great sparkling gem. Several gorgeous gentlemen
stood near, — his servants, without a doubt. Oh!
he was a prince — a prince, a living prince, a real
prince — without the shadow of a question; and
the prayer of the pauper-boy's heart was answered
at last.

Tom's breath came quick and short with excite-
ment, and his eyes grew big with wonder and de-
light. Everything gave way in his mind instantly
to one desire : that was to get close to the prince,
and have a good, devouring look at him. Before
he knew what he was about, he had his face against
the gate-bars. The next instant one of the soldiers
snatched him rudely away, and sent him spinning
among the gaping crowd of country gawks and
London idlers. The soldier said :

•• Mind thy manners, thou young beggar !"

The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young
prince sprang to the gate with his face flushed, and
his eyes flashing with indignation, and cried out:

"How dar'st thou use a poor lad like that!
How dar'st thou use the king my father's meanest
subject so I Open the gates, and let him in !"

You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off
their hats then. You should have heard them
cheer, and shout, * * Long live the Prince of Wales ! ' '

The Prince and the Pauper 29

The soldiers presented arms with their halberds,
opened the gates, and presented again as the little
Prince of Poverty passed in, in his fluttering rags,
to join hands with the Prince of Limitless Plenty.

Edward Tudor said :

*'Thou lookest tired and hungry: thou'st been
treated ill. Come with me."

Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to — I
don't know what; interfere, no doubt. But they
were waved aside with a right royal gesture, and
they stopped stock still where they were, like so
many statues. Edward took Tom to a rich apart-
ment in the palace, which he called his cabinet. By
his command a repast was brought such as Tom had
never encountered before except in books. The
prince, with princely delicacy and breeding, sent
away the servants, so that his humble guest might
not be embarrassed by their critical presence ; then
he sat near by, and asked questions while Tom ate.

" What is thy name, lad?"

•' Tom Canty, an' it please thee, sir."

*• 'Tis an odd one. Where dost live?"

* ' In the city, please thee, sir. Offal Court, out
of Pudding Lane."

** Offal Court I Truly, 'tis another odd one. Hast
parents?"

** Parents have I, sir, and a grandam likewise
that is but indifferently precious to me, God forgive
me if it be offense to say it — also twin sisters, Nan
and Bet."

3

30 The Prince and the Pzuper

**Then is thy grandam not over kind to thee, I
take it/*

** Neither to any other is she» so please your
Worship. She hath a wicked heart, and worketh
evil all her days."

•• Doth she mistreat thee?"

*' There be times that she stayeth her hand, being
asleep or overcome with drink ; but when she hath
her judgment clear again > she maketh it up to me
with goodly beatings."

A fierce look came into the little prince's eyes,
and he cried out :

••Whatl Beatings?"

** Oh, indeed, yes, please you, sir,"

•• Beatings ! — and thou so frail and little. Hark
ye : before the night come, she shall hie her to the
Tower. The king my father — "

•' In sooth, you forget, sir, her low degree. The
Tower is for the great alone."

"True, indeed. I had not thought of that. I
will consider of her punishment. Is thy father kind
to thee?"

Not more than Gammer Canty, sir. ' '
Fathers be alike, mayhap. Mine hath not a doll's
temper. He smiteth with a heavy hand, yet spareth
me : he spareth me not always with his tongue, though,
sooth to say. How doth thy mother use thee?"

" She is good, sir, and giveth me neither sorrow
nor pain of any sort. And Nan and Bet are like to
her in this."

The Prince and the rauper 31

■• How old be these?"

•* Fifteen, an* it please you, sir."

The Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and
the Lady Jane Grey, my cousin, is of mine own age,
and comely and gracious withal ; but my sister the
Lady Mary, with her gloomy mien and — Look
you: do thy sisters forbid their servants to smile,
lest the sin destroy their souls?"

"They? Oh, dost think, sir, that they have
servants?"

The little prince contemplated the little pauper
gravely a moment, then said :

" And prithee, why not? Who helpeth them un-
dress at night? who attireth them when they rise?"

" None, sir. Wouldst have them take off their
garment, and sleep without, — like the beasts?"

" Their garment I Have they but one?"

"Ah, good your worship, what would they do
with more? Truly, they have not two bodies each."

"It is a quaint and marvelous thought! Thy
pardon, I had not meant to laugh. But thy good
Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys
enow, and that soon, too : my cofferer shall look to
it. N09 thank me not; 'tis nothing. Thou speak-
est well; thou hast an easy grace in it. Art
learned?"

" I know not if I am or not, sir. The good priest
that is called Father Andrew taught me, of his kind-
ness, from his books."

" Know' St thou the Latin?"

32 The Prince and the Pauper

««

But scandy, sir, I doubt."
Learn it» lad: 'tis hard only at first. The
Greek is harder ; but neither these nor any tongues
else, I think, are hard to the Lady Elizabeth and
my cousin. Thou shouldst hear those damsels at
it ! But tell me of thy Offal Court. Hast thou a
pleasant life there?"

"In truth, yes, so please you, sir, save when one
is hungry."^ There be Punch-and-Judy shows, and
monkeys, — oh, such antic creatures ! and so bravely
dressed! — and there be plays wherein they that
play do shout and iight till all are slain, and 'tis so
fine to see, and costeth but a farthing — albeit 'tis
main hard to get the farthing, please your worship."

"Tell me more."

"We lads of Offal Court do strive against each
other with the cudgel, like to the fashion of the
'prentices, sometimes."

The prince's eyes flashed. Said he:

" Marry, that would I not mislike. Tell me more."

" We strive in races, sir, to see who of us shall be
fleetest."

*'That would I like also. Speak on."

" In summer, sir, we wade and swim in the canals
and in the river, and each doth duck his neighbor,
and spatter him with water, and dive and shout and
tumble and — "

" 'Twould be worth my father's kingdom but to
enjoy it once ! Prithee go on."

"We dance and sing about the Maypole in

The Prince and the Pauper 33

Cheapside; we play in the sand, each covering his
neighbor up; and times we make mud pastry — oh,
the lovely mud, it hath not its like for delightfulness
in all the world ! — we do fairly wallow in the mud,
sir, saving your worship's presence."

**Oh, prithee, say no more, 'tis glorious! If
that I could but clothe me in raiment like to thine,
and strip my feet, and revel in the mud once, just
once, with none to rebuke me or forbid, meseemeth
I could forego the crown V*

** And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir,
as thou art clad — just once — "

** Oho, wouldst like it? Then so shall it be. Doff
thy rags, and don these splendors, lad ! It is a brief
happiness, but will be not less keen for that. We
will have it while we may, and change again before
any come to molest."

A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was
garlanded with Tom's fluttering odds and ends, and
the little Prince of Pauperdom was tricked out in the
gaudy plumage of royalty. The two went and stood
side by side before a great mirror, and lo, a miracle:
there did not seem to have been any change made t
They stared at each other, then at the glass, then at
each other again. At last the puzzled princeling
said :

•• What dost thou make of this?"

**Ah, good your worship, require me not to

answer. It is not meet that one of my degree

should utter the thing. ' '
8

34 The Prince and the Pauper

* * Then will / utter it. Thou hast the same hair,
the same eyes, the same voice and manner, the same
form and stature, the same face and countenance,
that I bear. Fared we forth naked, there is none
could say which was you, and which the Prince of
Wales. And, now that I am clothed as thou wert
clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more nearly
to feel as thou didst when the brute soldier —
Hark ye, is not this a bruise upon your hand?"

** Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship
knoweth that the poor man-at-arms — "

*• Peace ! It was a shameful thing and a cruel !"
cried the little prince, stamping his bare foot. ** If
the king — Stir not a step till I come again 1 It
is a command!"

In a moment he had snatched up and put away
an article of national importance that lay upon a
table, and was out at the door and flying through
the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot
face and glowing eyes. As soon as he reached the
great gate, he seized the bars, and tried to shake
them, shouting:

• • Open ! Unbar the gates ! ' '

The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed
promptly; and as the prince burst through the
portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldier
fetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent
him whirling to the roadway, and said :

"Take that, thou beggar's spawn, for what thou
got' St me from his Highness 1"

The Prince and the Pauper 3$

The crowd roared with laughter. The prince
picked himself out of the mud, and made fiercely at
the sentry, shouting:

** I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred ;
and thou shalt hang for laying thy hand upon me !"

The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms
and said mockingly:

I salute your gracious Highness." Then angrily,

Be off, thou crazy rubbish ! ' *

Here the jeering crowd closed around the poor
little prince, and hustled him far down the road,
hooting him, and shouting, **Way for his royal
Highness ! way for the Prince of Wales 1 * '

CI

CHAPTER IV.

THE PRINCE'S TROUBLES BEGIN

AFTER hours of persistent pursuit and persecu-
tion, the little prince was at last deserted by
the rabble and left to himself. As long as he had
been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it
royally, and royally utter commands that were good
stuff to laugh at, he was very entertaining; but
when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he
was no longer of use to his tormentors, and they
sought amusement elsewhere. He looked about him
now, but could not recognize the locality. He was
within the city of London — that was all he knew.
He moved on, aimlessly, and in a little while the
houses thinned, and the passers-by were infrequent.
He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which
flowed then where Farringdon street now is ; rested
a few moments, then passed on, and presently came
upon a great space with only a few scattered houses
in it, and a prodigious church. He recognized this
church. Scaffoldings were about, everywhere, and
swarms of workmen ; for it was undergoing elaborate
repairs. The prince took heart at once — he felt

(36.

The Prince and the Pauper 37

that his troubles were at an end now. He said to
himself, ''It is the ancient Grey Friars' church,
which the king my father hath taken from the
monks and given for a home forever for poor
and forsaken children, and new-named it Christ's
church. Right gladly will they serve the son of
him who hath done so generously by them — and
the more that that son is himself as poor and as
forlorn as any that be sheltered here this day, or
ever shall be."

He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who
were running, jumping, playing at ball and leap-frog
and otherwise disporting themselves, and right
noisily, too. They were all dressed alike, and in
the fashion which in that day prevailed among
serving-men and 'prentices* — that is to say, each
had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about
the size of a saucer, which was not useful as a
covering, it being of such scanty dimensions, neither
was it ornamental; from beneath it the hair fell,
unparted, to the middle of the forehead, and was
cropped straight around; a clerical band at the
neck ; a blue gown that fitted closely and hung as
low as the knees or lower ; full sleeves ; a broad red
belt; bright yellow stockings, gartered above the
knees ; low shoes with large metal buckles. It was
a sufficiently ugly costume.

The boys stopped their play and flocked about
the prince, who said with native dignity :

* See Note i, at end of the yolume.

38 The Prince and the Pauper

*' Good lads, say to your master that Edward
Prince of Wales desireth speech with him."

A great shout went up at this, and one rude
fellow said :

*• Marry, art thou his grace's messenger, beggar?'*

The prince's face flushed with anger, and his
ready hand flew to his hip, but there was nothing
there. There was a storm of laughter, and one boy
said:

** Didst mark that? He fancied he had a sword
— belike he is the prince himself."

This sally brought more laughter. Poor Edward
drew himself up proudly and said :

** I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that
feed upon the king my father's bounty to use me
so.

This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified.
The youth who had first spoken shouted to his
comrades :

•• Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's
princely father, where be your manners? Down on
your marrow bones, all of ye, and do reverence to
his kingly port and royal rags !"

With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their
knees in a body and did mock homage to their prey.
The prince spurned the nearest boy with his foot,
and said fiercely:

**Take thou that, till the morrow come and I
build thee a gibbet !"

Ah, but this was not a joke — this was going

The Prince and the Pauper 39

beyond fun. The laughter ceased on the instant,
and fury took its place. A dozen shouted :

* * Hale him forth ! To the horse-pond, to the
horse-pond! Where be the dogs? Ho, there,
Lion! ho, Fangs!"

Then followed such a thing as England had never
seen before — the sacred person of the heir to the
throne rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, and set
upon and torn by dogs.

As night drew to a close that day, the prince
found himself far down in the close-built portion of
the city. His body was bruised, his hands were
bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud.
He wandered on and on, and grew more and more
bewildered, and so tired and faint he could hardly
drag one foot after the other. He had ceased to
ask questions of any one, since they brought him
only insult instead of information. He kept mutter-
ing to himself, * * Offal Court — that is the name ; if
I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent
and I drop, then am I saved — for his people will
take me to the palace and prove that I am none of
theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have mine
own again.'' And now and then his mind reverted
to his treatment by those rude Christ's Hospital
boys, and he said, "When I am king, they shall
not have bread and shelter only, but also teachings
out of books ; for a full belly is little worth where
the mind is starved, and the heart. I will keep this
diligently in my remembrance, that this day's lesson

40 The Prince and the Pauper

be not lost upon me, and my people suffer thereby;
for learning softeneth the heart and breedeth gentle-
ness and charity."*

The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain,
the wind rose, and a raw and gusty night set in.
The houseless prince, the homeless heir to the
throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper
into the maze of squalid alleys where the swarming
hives of poverty and misery were massed together.

Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and
said:

*' Out to this time of night again, and hast not
brought a farthing home, I warrant me I If it be
so, an' I do not break all the bones in thy lean
body, then am I not John Canty, but some
other."

The prince twisted himself loose, unconsciously
brushed his profaned shoulder, and eagerly said :

•* Oh, art his father, truly? Sweet heaven grant
it be so — then wilt thou fetch him away and restore
me I"

** His father? I know not what thou mean'st; I
but know I am thy father, as thou shalt soon have
cause to — "

•*0h, jest not, palter not, delay not! — I am
worn, I am wounded, I can bear no more. Take
me to the king my father, and he will make thee
rich beyond thy wildest dreams. Believe me, man,
believe me ! — I speak no lie, but only the truth 1 -^

* See Note 2, at end of the volnme.

The Piince and the Pauper 41

put forth thy hand and save me I I am indeed the
Prince of Wales!"

The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad,
then shook his head and muttered :

•'Gone stark mad as any. Tom o* Bedlam!" —
then collared him once more, and said with a coarse
laugh and an oath, *' But mad or no mad, I and thy
Gammer Canty will soon find where the soft places
in thy bones lie, or I'm no true man !"

With this he dragged the frantic and struggling
prince away, and disappeared up a front court fol-
lowed by a delighted and noisy swarm of human
vermin.

CHAPTER V,

TOM AS A PATRICIAN

TOM CANTY, left alone in the prince's cabinet,
made good use of his opportunity. He turned
himself this way and that before the great mirror,
admiring his finery; then walked away, imitating
the prince's high-bred carriage, and still observing
results in the glass. Next he drew the beautiful
sword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and laying it
across his breast, as he had seen a noble knight do,
by way of salute to the lieutenant of the Tower, five
or six weeks before, when delivering the great lords
of Norfolk and Surrey into his hands for captivity.
Tom played with the jeweled dagger that hung upon
his thigh; he examined the costly and exquisite
ornaments of the room ; he tried each of the sump-
tuous chairs, and thought how proud he would be if
the Offal Court herd could only peep in and see
him in his grandeur. He wondered if they would
believe the marvelous tale he should tell when he
got home, or if they would shake their heads, and
say his overtaxed imagination had at last upset his
reason.

At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred

(42)

rbe Prince and the Pauper 43

to him that the prince was gone a long time ; then
right away he began to feel lonely ; very soon he
fell to listening and longing, and ceased to toy with
the pretty things about him ; he grew uneasy, then
restless, then distressed. Suppose some one should
come, and catch him in the prince's clothes, and the
prince not there to explain. Might they not hang
him at once, and inquire into his case afterward?
He had heard that the great were prompt about
small matters. His fears rose higher and higher ;
and trembling he softly opened the door to the ante-
chamber, resolved to fly and seek the prince, and,
through him, protection and release. Six gorgeous
gentlemen-servants and two young pages of high
degree, clothed like butterflies, sprung to their feet,
and bowed low before him. He stepped quickly
back, and shut the door. He said :

** Oh, they mock at me! They will go and tell.
Oh ! why came I here to cast away my life?"

He walked up and down the floor, tilled with
nameless fears, listening, starting at every trifling
sound. Presently the door swung open, and a silken
page said :

•• The Lady Jane Grey."

The door closed, and a sweet young girl, richly
clad, bounded toward him. But she stopped sud-
denly, and said in a distressed voice :

•• Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?"

Tom's breath was nearly failing him ; but he made
shift to stammer out :

44 The Prince and the Pauper

''Ah, be merciful, thou! In sooth I am no
lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court in
the city. Prithee let me see the prince, and he will
of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me
hence unhurt. Oh, be thou merciful, and save me I''

By this time the boy was on his knees, and sup-
plicating with his eyes and uplifted hands as well as
with his tongue. The young girl seemed horror-
stricken. She cried out:

** Oh, my lord, on thy knees? — and to me /"

Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten
with despair, sank down, murmuring:

"There is no help, there is no hope. Now will
they come and take me."

Whilst he lay there benumbed with terror, dread*
ful tidings were speeding through the palace. The
whisper, for it was whispered always, flew from
menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the
long corridors, from story to story, from saloon to
saloon, **The prince hath gone mad, the prince
hath gone mad !" Soon every saloon, every marble
hall, had its groups of glittering lords and ladies, and
other groups of dazzling lesser folk, talking earnestly
together in whispers, and every face had in it dismay.
Presently a splendid official came marching by these
groups, making solemn proclamation :

•• In the Name of the King.
Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon
pain of death, nor discuss the same, nor carry it
abroad. In the name of the kingl"

\

The Prince and the Pauper 45

The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the
whisperers had been stricken dumb.

Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors,
of ** The prince ! See, the prince comes 1"

Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-
bowing groups, trying to bow in return, and meekly
gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewil-
dered and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon
each side of him, making him lean upon them, and
so steady his steps. Behind him followed the court
physicians and some servants.

Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment
of the palace, and heard the door close behind him.
Around him stood those who had come with him.

Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very
large and very fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and
a stern expression. His large head was very gray ;
and his whiskers, which he wore only around his
face, like a frame, were gray also. His clothing
was of rich stuff, but old, and slightly frayed in
places. One of his swollen legs had a pillow under
it, and was wrapped in bandages. There was silence
now ; and there was no head there but was bent in
reverence, except this man's. This stern-counte-
nanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII. He said,
— and his face grew gentle as he began to speak :

•• How now, my lord Edward, my prince? Hast
been minded to cozen me, the good king thy father,
who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with a sorry
jest?"

46 The Prince and the Pauper

Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed
faculties would let him, to the beginning of this
speech; but when the words ** me the good king"
iell upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped
as instantly upon his knees as if a shot had brought
him there. Lifting up his hands, he exclaimed :

'*Thou the king? Then am I undone indeed!"

This speech seemed to stun the king. His eyes
wandered from face to face aimlessly, then rested,
bewildered, upon the boy before him. Then he
said in a tone of deep disappointment :

•• Alack, I had believed the rumor disproportioned
to the truth; but I fear me 'tis not so." He
breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentle voice,
•' Come to thy father, child; thou art not well."

Tom was assisted to his feet, and approached the
Majesty of England, humble and trembling. The
king took the frightened face between his hands,
and gazed earnestly and lovingly into it awhile, as if
seeking some grateful sign of returning reason there,
then pressed the curly head against his breast, and
patted it tenderly. Presently he said :

*'Dost thou know thy father, child? Break not
mine old heart; say thou know'st me. Thou dost
know me, dost thou not?"

' ' Yea ; thou art my dread lord the king, whom
God preserver*

*• True, true— that is well — be comforted, trem-
ble not so ; there is none here who would hurt thee ;
there is none here but loves thee. Thou art better

Tfae Prince and the Pauper 47

now; thy ill dream passeth — is*t not so? And
thou knowest thyself now also — is't not so? Thou
wilt not miscall thyself again, as they say thou didst
a little while agone?"

•• I pray thee of thy grace believe me, I did but
speak the truth, most dread lord; for I am the
meanest among thy subjects, being a pauper born,
and 'tis by a sore mischance and accident I am
here, albeit I was therein nothing blameful. I am
but young to die, and thou canst save me with one
little word. Oh, speak it, sir!**

** Die? Talk not so, sweet prince — peace, peace^
to thy troubled heart — 'thou shalt not die!"

Tom dropped upon his knees with a glad cry :

** God requite thy mercy, oh my king, and save
thee long to bless thy land!" Then springing up,
he turned a jo)rful face toward the two lords in
waiting, and exclaimed, '*Thou heard'st it! I am
not to die: the king hath said it!" There was no
movement, save that all bowed with grave respect;
but no one spoke. He hesitated, a little confused,
then turned timidly toward the king, saying, ** I may
go now?"

**Go? Surely, if thou desirest. But why not
tarry yet a little? Whither wouldst go?"

Tom dropped his eyes, and answered humbly:

*• Peradventure I mistook; but I did think me
free, and so was I moved to seek again the kennel
where I was bom and bred to misery, yet which
harboreth my mother and my sisters, and so is home

48 The Prince and the Pauper

to me ; whereas these pomps and splendors where-
onto I am not used — oh, please you, sir, to let me

go!"

The king was silent and thoughtful a while, and
his face betrayed a growing distress and uneasiness.
Presently he said, with something of hope in his
voice :

** Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain,
and hath his wits unmarred as toucheth other matter.
God send it may be so ! We will make trial."

Then he asked Tom a question in Latin, and Tom
answered him lamely in the same tongue. The king
was delighted, and showed it. The lords and doc-
tors manifested their gratification also. The king
said:

*' 'Twas not according to his schooling and ability,
but sheweth that his mind is but diseased^ not
stricken fatally. How say you, sir?"

The physician addressed bowed low, and replied :

•• It jumpeth with mine own conviction, sire, that
thou hast divined aright."

The king looked pleased with this encouragement,
coming as it did from so excellent authority, and
continued with good heart:

" Now mark ye all: we will try him further."

He put a question to Tom in French. Tom stood
silent a moment, embarrassed by having so many
eyes centered upon him, then said diffidently :

*• I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please
your majesty."

The Prince and the Pauper 49

The king fell back upon his couch. The attendants
flew to his assistance; but he put them aside, and
said:

"Trouble me not — it is nothing but a scurvy
faintness. Raise me! there, 'tis sufficient. Come
hither, child; there, rest thy poor troubled head
upon thy father's heart, and be at peace. Thou'lt
soon be well; 'tis but a passing fantasy. Fear thou
not; thou 'It soon be well." Then he turned toward
the company; his gentle manner changed, and bale-
ful lightnings began to play from his eyes. He
said:

" List ye all ! This my son is mad ; but it is not
permanent. Overstudy hath done this, and some-
what too much of confinement. Away with his
books and teachers! see ye to it. Pleasure him
with sports, beguile him in wholesome ways, so that
his health come again." He raised himself higher
still, and went on with energy. ** He is mad; but
he is my son, and England's heir; and, mad or
sane, still shall he reign ! And hear ye further, and
proclaim it: whoso speaketh of this his distemper
worketh against the peace and order of these realms,

and shall to the gallows ! Give me to drink —

I burn: This sorrow sappeth my strength

There, take away the cup Support me. There,

that is well. Mad, is he? Were he a thousand
times mad, yet is he Prince of Wales, and I the
king will confirm it. This very morrow shall he be

installed in his princely dignity in due and ancient

4

50 The Prince and the Pauper

form. Take instant order for it, my Lord Hert*
ford."

One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch, and
said:

•* The king's majesty knoweth that the Hereditary
Great Marshal of England lieth attainted in the
Tower. It were not meet that one attainted — "

"Peace! Insult not mine ears with his hated
name. Is this man to live forever? Am I to be
balked of my will? Is the prince to tarry unin-
stalled, because y forsooth, the realm lacketh an earl
marshal free of treasonable taint to invest him with
his honors? No, by the splendor of God! Warn
my parliament to bring me Norfolk's doom before
the sun rise again, else shall they answer for it
grievously!"*

Lord Hertford said :

••The king's will is law;" and, rising, returned
to his former place.

Gradually the wrath faded out of the old king's
face, and he said :

•• Kiss me, my prince. There what fearest

thou? Am I not thy loving father?"

•*Thou art good to me that am unworthy, O
mighty and gracious lord; that in truth I know.
But — but — it grieveth me to think of him that is
to die, and — "

••Ah, 'tis like thee, 'tis like thee! I know thy
heart is still the same, even though thy mind hath

* See Note 3, at end of the volume.

The Prince and the Pauper 51

sufifered hurt, for thou wert ever of a gentle spirit.
But this duke standeth between thee and thine
honors : I will have another in his stead that shall
bring no taint to his great office. Comfort thee, my
prince : trouble not thy poor head with this matter. ' '

** But is it not I that speed him hence, my liege?
How long might he not live, but for me?"

*' Take no thought of him, my prince: he is not
worthy. Kiss me once again, and go to thy trifles
and amusements ; for my malady distresseth me. I
am aweary, and would rest. Go with thine uncle
Hertford and thy people, and come again when my
body is refreshed."

Tom, heavy-hearted, was conducted from the
presence, for this last sentence was a death-blow to
the hope he had cherished that now he would be set
free. Once more he heard the buzz of low voices
exclaiming, ''The prince, the prince comes!"

His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved be-
tween the glittering files of bowing courtiers ; for he
recognized that he was indeed a captive now, and
might remain forever shut up in this gilded cage, a
forlorn and friendless prince, except God in his
mercy take pity on him and set him free.

And, turn where he would, he seemed to see
floating in the air the severed head and the remem-
bered face of the great Duke of Norfolk, the eyes
fixed on him reproachfully.

His old dreams had been so pleasant; but this
reality was so dreary 1

CHAPTER VI.

TOM RECEIVES INSTRUCTIONS

TOM was conducted to the principal apartment of
a noble suite, and made to sit down — a thing
which he was loath to do, since there were elderly
men and men of high degree about him. He begged
them to be seated, also, but they only bowed their
thanks or murmured them, and remained standing.
He would have insisted, but his "uncle," the Earl
of Hertford, whispered in his ear:

•* Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that
they sit in thy presence."

The Lord St. John was announced, and, after
making obeisance to Tom, he said :

••I come upon the king's errand, concerning a
matter which requireth privacy. Will it please your
royal Highness to dismiss all that attend you here,
save my lord the Earl of Hertford?"

Observing that Tom did not seem to know how
to proceed, Hertford whispered him to make a sign
with his hand and not trouble himself to speak un-
less he chose. When the waiting gentlemen had
retired, Lord St. John said:

" His majesty commandeth, that for due and

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^

The Prince and the Pauper S3

weighty reasons of state, the prince's gr^ce shall
hide his infirmity in all ways that be within his
power, till it be passed and he be as he was before.
To wit, that he shall deny to none that he is the
true prince, and heir to England's greatness; that
he shall uphold his princely dignity, and shall re-
ceive, without word or sign of protest, that rever-
ence and observance which unto it do appertain of
right and ancient usage; that he shall cease to
speak to any of that lowly birth and life his malady
hath conjured out of the unwholesome imaginings of
o'erwrought fancy ; that he shall strive with diligence
to bring unto his memory again those faces which
he was wont to know — and where he faileth he shall
hold his peace, neither betraying by semblance of
surprise, or other sign, that he hath forgot; that
upon occasions of state, whensoever any matter
shall perplex him as to the thing he should do or
the utterance he should make, he shall show nought
of unrest to the curious that look on, but take ad-
vice in that matter of the Lord Hertford, or my
humble self, which are commanded of the king to
be upon this service and close at call, till this com-
mandment be dissolved. Thus saith the king's
majesty, who sendeth greeting to your royal high-
ness and prayeth that God will of His mercy quickly
heal you and have you now and ever in His holy
keeping."

The Lord St. John made reverence and stood
aside. Tom replied, resignedly:

54 The Prince and the Pauper

•*The king hath said it. None may palter with
the king's command, or fit it to his ease, where it
doth chafe, with deft evasions. The king shall be
obeyed."

Lord Hertford said :

** Touching the king's majesty's ordainment con-
cerning books and such like serious matters, it may
peradventure please your Highness to ease your
time with lightsome entertainment, lest you go
wearied to the banquet and suffer harm thereby."

Tom's face showed inquiring surprise; and a
blush followed when he saw lord St. John's eyes
bent sorrowfully upon him. His lordship said :

* * Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast
shown surprise — but suffer it not to trouble thee,
for 'tis a matter that will not bide, but depart with
thy mending malady. My lord of Hertford speak-
eth of the city's banquet which the king's majesty
did promise two months flown, your highness should
attend. Thou recallest it now? "

•• It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped
me," said Tom, in a hesitating voice ; and blushed
again.

At that moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady
Jane Grey were announced. The two lords ex-
changed significant glances, and Hertford stepped
quickly toward the door. As the young girls passed
him, he said in a low voice:

•*I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his
humors, nor show surprise when his memory doth

The Prince and the Pauper 55

lapse — it will grieve you to note how it doth stick
at every trifle."

Meanwhile Lord St. John was saying in Tom's
ear:

"Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his
majesty's desire. Remember all thou canst — Seem
to remember all else. Let them not perceive that
thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou
knowest how tenderly thy old playfellows bear thee
in their hearts and how 'twould grieve them. Art
willing, sir, that I remain? — and thine uncle?"

Tom signified assent with a gesture and a mur-
mured word, for he was already learning, and in his
simple heart was resolved to acquit himself as best
he might, according to the king's command.

In spite of every precaution, the conversation
among the young people became a little embarrassing
at times. More than once, in truth, Tom was near
to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to
his tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess
Elizabeth saved him, or a word from one or the
other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently by
chance, had the same happy effect. Once the little
Lady Jane turned to Tom and dismayed him with
this question:

•*Hast paid thy duty to the queen's majesty to-
day, my lord?"

Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about
to stammer out something at hazard, when lord St.
John took the word and answered for him with the

56 The Prince and the Pauper

easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter
delicate difficulties and to be ready for them :

*'He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly
hearten him, as touching his majesty's condition;
is it not so, your highness? "

Tom mumbled something that stood for assent,
but felt that he was getting upon dangerous ground.
Somewhat later it was mentioned that Tom was to
study no more at present, whereupon her little lady-
ship exclaimed :

** 'Tis a pity, 'tis such a pity! Thou were pro-
ceeding bravely. But bide thy time in patience ; it
will not be for long. Thou* It yet be graced with
learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master
of as many languages as his, good my prince."

** My father!" cried Tom, off his guard for the
moment. " I trow he cannot speak his own so that
any but the swine that wallow in the sties may tell his
meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever — **

He looked up and encountered a solemn warning
in my lord St. John's eyes.

He stopped, blushed, then continued low and
sadly: *' Ah, my malady persecuteth me again, and
my mind wandereth. I meant the king's grace no

irreverence."

**We know it, sir," said the Princess Elizabeth,
taking her "brother's" hand between her two
palms, respectfully but caressingly; ** trouble not
thyself as to that. The fault is none of thine, but
thy distemper's."

The Prince and the Pauper 57

••Thou 'it a gentle comforter, sweet lady," said
Tom, gratefully, ''and my heart moveth me to
thank thee for't, an' I may be so bold."

Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple
Greek phrase at Tom. The Princess Elizabeth's
quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the tar-
get's front that the shaft was overshot; so she tran-
quilly delivered a return volley of sounding Greek
on Tom's behalf, and then straightway changed the
talk to other matters.

Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly,
on the whole. Snags and sandbars grew less and less
frequent, and Tom grew more and more at his ease,
seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping
him and overlooking his mistakes. When it came
out that the little ladies were to accompany him to
the Lord Mayor's banquet in the evening, his heart
gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that
he should not be friendless now, among that multi-
tude of strangers, whereas, an hour earlier, the idea
of their going with him would have been an insup-
portable terror to him.

Tom's guardian angels, the two lords, had had
less comfort in the interview than the other parties
to it. They felt much as if they were piloting a
great ship through a dangerous channel ; they were
on the alert constantly, and found their office no
child's play. Wherefore, at last, when the ladies'
visit was drawing to a close and the Lord Guilford
Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their

58 The Prince and the Pauper

charge haid been sufficiently taxed for the present,
but also that they themselves were not in the best
condition to take their ship back and make their
anxious voyage all over again. So they respect-
fully advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was
very glad to do, although a slight shade of disap-
pointment might have been observed upon my Lady
Jane's face when she heard the splendid stripling
denied admittance.

There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence
which Tom could not understand. He glanced at
Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign — but he failed
to understand that also. The ready Elizabeth came
to the rescue with her usual easy grace. She made
reverence and said :

•• Have we leave of the prince's grace my brother
to go?"

Tom said :

•* Indeed, your ladyships can have whatsoever of
me they will, for the asking; yet would I rather
give them any other thing that in my poor power
lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of
their presence hence. Give ye good den, and God
be with ye!" Then he smiled inwardly at the
thought, ••'tis not for nought I have dwelt but
among princes in my reading, and taught my tongue
some slight trick of their broidered and gracious
speech withal!"

When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom
turned wearily to his keepers and said :

The Prince and the Pauper 59

*• May it please your lordships to grant me leave
to go into some corner and rest me I"

Lord Hertford said :

•* So please your Highness, it is for you to com-
mand, it is for us to obey. That thou shouldst rest,
IS indeed a needful thing, since thou must journey
to the city presently."

He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was
ordered to desire the presence of Sir William
Herbert. This gentleman came straightway, and
conducted Tom to an inner apartment. Tom's first
movement there was to reach for a cup of water ;
but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it, dropped upon
one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver.

Next, the tired captive sat down and was going to
take off his buskins, timidly asking leave with his
eye, but another silk-and-velvet discomforter went
down upon his knees and took the office from him.
He made two or three further efforts to help him-
self, but being promptly forestalled each time, he
finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation and a
murmured ** Beshrew me, but I marvel they do not
require to breathe for me also!" Slippered, and
wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid himself down
at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too
full of thoughts and the room too full of people.
He could not dismiss the former, so they stayed ; he
did not know enough to dismiss the latter, so they
stayed also, to his vast regret — and theirs.

60 The Prince and the Pauper

Tom's departure had left his two noble guardians
alone. They mused a while, with much headshaldng
and walking the floor, then Lord St. John said :
Plainly, what dost thou think?"
Plainly, then, this. The king is near his end, my
nephew is mad, mad will mount the throne, and mad
remain . God protect England , since she will need it ! "

•* Verily it promiseth so, indeed. But have

you no misgivings as to as to "

The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped. He
evidently felt that he was upon delicate ground.
Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked into his
face with a clear, frank eye, and said :

•* Speak on — there is none to hear but me. Mis-
givings as to what?"

" I am full loath to word the thing that is in my
mind, and thou so near to him in blood, my lord.
But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth it not
strange that madness could so change his port and
manner! — not but that his port and speech are
princely still, but that they differ in one unweighty
trifle or another, from what his custom was afore-
time. Seemeth it not strange that madness should
filch from his memory his father's very lineaments;
the customs and observances that are his due from
such as be about him; and, leaving him his Latin,
strip him of his Greek and French? My lord, be
not offended, but ease my mind of its disquiet and
receive my grateful thanks. It haunteth me, his
saying he was not the prince, and so — "

The Prince and the Pauper 61

•'Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason! Hast
forgot the king's command? Remember I am party
to thy crime, if I but listen."

St. John paled, and hastened to say:

•* I was in fault, I do confess it. Betray me not,
grant me this grace out of thy courtesy, and I will
neither think nor speak of this thing more. Deal
not hardly with me, sir, elap am I ruined."

*' I am content, my lord. So thou offend not
again, here or in the ears of others, it shall be as
though thou hadst not spoken. But thou needst
not have misgivings. He is my sister's son; are
not his voice, his face, his form, familiar to me from
his cradle? Madness can do all the odd conflicting
things thou seest in him, and more. Dost not recall
how that the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot
the favor of his own countenance tliat he had knowa
for sixty years, and held it was another's; nay, even
claimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that
his head was made of Spanish glass ; and sooth to^
say, he suffered none to touch it, lest by mischance
some heedless hand might shiver it. Give thy mis-
givings easement, good my lord. This is the very
prince, I know him well — and soon will be thy
king; it may advantage thee to bear this in mind
and more dwell upon it than the other."

After some further talk, in which the Lord St.
John covered up his mistake as well as he could by
repeated protests that his faith was thoroughly
grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts

9

62 The Prince and the Pauper

again, the Lord Hertford relieved his fellow keeper,
and sat down to keep watch and ward alone. He
was soon deep in meditation. And evidently the
longer he thought, the more he was bothered. By
and by he began to pace the floor and mutter.

"Tush, he must be the prince! Will any he in
all the land maintain there can be two, not of one
blood and birth, so marvelously twinned? And
even were it so, 'twere yet a stranger miracle that
chance should cast the one into the other's place.
Nay, 'tis folly, folly, folly!"

Presently he said :

•* Now were he impostor and called himself prince,
look you tAat would be natural; that would be
reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who,
being called prince by the king, prince by the court,
prince by all, denied his dignity and pleaded against
his exaltation ? No! By the soul of St. Swithin,
no 1 This is the true prince, gone mad 1"

CHAPTER VIL

TOM'S FIRST ROYAL DINNER

SOMEWHAT after one in the afternoon, Tom
resignedly underwent the ordeal of being dressed
for dinner. He found himself as finely clothed as
before, but everything different, everything changed,
from his ruff to his stockings. He was presently
conducted with much state to a spacious and ornate
apartment, where a table was already set for one.
Its furniture was all of massy gold, and beautified
with designs which wellnigh made it priceless, since
they were the work of Benvenuto. The room was
half filled with noble servitors. A chaplain said
grace, and Tom was about to fall to, for hunger had
long been constitutional with him, but was inter-
rupted by my lord the Earl of Berkeley, who
fastened a napkin about his neck ; for the great post
of Diaperers to the Princes of Wales was hereditary
in this nobleman's family. Tom's cupbearer was
present, and forestalled all his attempts to help him-
self to wine. The Taster to his Highness the Prince
of Wales was there also, prepared to taste any sus-
picious dish upon requirement, and run the risk of
being poisoned. He was only an ornamental ap-
pendage at this time, and was seldom called to exer*

(63)

64 The Prince and the Pauper

cise his function; but there had been times, not
many generations past, when the office of taster had
its perils, and was not a grandeur to be desired.
Why they did not use a dog or a plumber seems
strange; but all the ways of royalty are strange.
My Lord d'Arcy, First Groom of the Chamber, was
there, to do goodness knows what; but there he
was — let that suffice. The Lord Chief Butler was
there, and stood behind Tom's chair, overseeing the
solemnities, under command of the Lord Great
Steward and the Lord Head Cook, who stood near.
Tom had three hundred and eighty-four servants
beside these; but they were not all in that room, of
course, nor the quarter of them ; neither was Tom
aware yet that they existed.

All those that were present had been well drilled
within the hour to remember that the prince was
temporarily out of his head, and to be careful to
show no surprise at his vagaries. These ** vagaries "
were soon on exhibition before them ; but they only
moved their compassion and their sorrow, not their
mirth. It was a heavy affliction to them to see the
beloved prince so stricken.

Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly; but no one
smiled at it, or even seemed to observe it. He in-
spected his napkin curiously and with deep interest,
for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric, then
said with simplicity :

** Prithee, take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness
it be soiled."

The Prince and the Pauper 65

The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with rever-
ent manner, and without word or protest of any
sort.

Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with
interest, and asked what they were, and if they were
to be eaten ; for it was only recently that men had
begun to raise these things in England in place of
importing them as luxuries from Holland.* His
question was answered with grave respect, and no
surprise manifested. When he had finished his
dessert, he filled his pockets with nuts ; but nobody
appeared to be aware of it, or disturbed by it^ But
the next moment he was himself disturbed by it, and
showed discomposure ; for this was the only service
he had been permitted to do with his own hands during
the meal, and he did not doubt that he had done a
most improper and unprincely thing. At that mo-
ment the muscles of his nose began to twitch, and
the end of that organ to lift and wrinkle. This con-
tinued, and Tom began to evince a growing distress.
He looked appealingly, first at one and then another
of the lords about him, and tears came into his eyes.
They sprang forward with dismay in their faces, and
begged to know his trouble. Tom said with genuine
anguish :

*' I crave your indulgence; my nose itcheth
cruelly. What is the custom and usage in this
emergence? Prithee speed, for 'tis but a little time
that I can bear it"

* See Note 4, at end of the volume.
6

66 The Prince and the Pauper

None smiled; but all were sore perplexed, and
looked one to the other in deep tribulation for coun-
sel. But behold, here was a dead wall, and nothing
in English history to tell how to get over it. The
Master of Ceremonies was not present; there was
no one who felt safe to venture upon this uncharted
sea, or risk the attempt to solve this solemn prob-
lem. Aias I there was no Hereditary Scratcher.
Meantime the tears had overflowed their banks, and
begun to trickle down Tom's cheeks. ^ His twitching
nose was pleading more urgently than ever for relief.
At last nature broke down the barriers of etiquette ;
Tom lifted up an inward prayer for pardon if he was
doing wrong, and brought relief to the burdened
hearts of his court by scratching his nose himself.

His meal being ended, a lord came and held be-
fore him a broad, shallow, golden dish with fragrant
rose-water in it, to cleanse his mouth and fingers
with ; and my lord the Hereditary Diaperer stood by
with a napkin for his use. Tom gazed at the dish
a puzzled moment or two, then raised it to his
lips, and gravely took a draught. Then he returned
it to the waiting lord, and said :

** Nay, it likes me not, my lord; it hath a pretty
flavor, but it wanteth strength."

This new eccentricity of the prince's ruined mind
made all the hearts about him ache; but the sad
sight moved none to merriment.

Tom*s next unconscious blunder was to get up and
leave the table just when the chaplain had taken his

The Prince and the Pauper 67

stand behind his chair and with uplifted hands and
closed uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning
the blessing. Still nobody seemed to perceive that
the prince had done a thing unusual.

By his own request, our small friend was now
conducted to his private cabinet, and left there
alone to his own devices. Hanging upon hooks in
the oaken wainscoting were the several pieces of a
suit of shining steel armor, covered all over with
beautiful designs exquisitely inlaid in gold. This
martial panoply belonged to the true prince, — a,
recent present from Madam Parr, the queen. Tom
put on the greaves, the gauntlets, the plumed
helmet, and such other pieces as he could don with-
out assistance, and for a while was minded to call
for help and complete the matter, but bethought
him of the nuts he had brought away from dinner,
and the joy it would be to eat them with no crowd
to eye him, and no Grand Hereditaries to pester
him with undesired services; so he restored the
pretty things to their several places, and soon was
cracking nuts, and feeling almost naturally happy
for the first time since God for his sins had made
him a prince. When the nuts were all gone, he
stumbled upon some inviting books in a closet,
among them one about the etiquette of the English
court. This was a prize. He lay down upon a
sumptuous divan, and proceeded to instruct himself
with honest zeal. Let us leave him there for the
present.

E

CHAPTER VIII.

THE QUESTION OP THE SEAL

ABOUT five o'clock Henry VIII. awoke out of an
unrefreshing nap, and muttered to himself,
** Troublous dreams, troublous dreams! Mine end
is now at hand; so say these warnings, and my
failing pulses do confirm it." Presently a wicked
light flamed up in his eye, and he muttered, ** Yet
will not I die till he go before."

His attendants perceiving that he was awake, one
of them asked his pleasure concerning the Lord
Chancellor, who was waiting without.

"Admit him, admit himl" exclaimed the kin^
eagerly.

The Lord Chancellor entered, and knelt by the
king's couch, saying:

*• I have given order, and, according to the king's
command, the peers of the realm, in their robes, do
now stand at the bar of the House, where, having
confirmed the Duke of Norfolk's doom, they humbly
wait his majesty's further pleasure in the matter."

The king's face lit up with a fierce joy. Said he :

•• Lift me up ! In mine own person will I go be-

(68 >

The Prince and the Pauper 69

fore my Parliament, and with mine own hand will I
seal the warrant that rids me of — "

His voice failed ; an ashen pallor swept the flush
from his cheeks; and the attendants eased him back
upon his pillows, and hurriedly assisted him with
restoratives. Presently he said sorrowfully :

** Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour!
and lo, too late it cometh, and I am robbed of this
so coveted chance. But speed ye, speed ye! let
others do tihis happy office sith 'tis denied to me. I
put my great seal in commission : choose thou the
lords that shall compose it, and get ye to your
work. Speed ye, man ! Before the sun shall rise
and set again, bring me his head that I may see it."

** According to the king's command, so shall it
be. Wiirt please your majesty to order that the
Seal be now restored to me, so that I may forth
upon the business? "

• • The Seal I Who keepeth the Seal but thou ? "

** nease your majesty, you did take it from me
two days since, saying it should no more do its
office till your own royal hand should use it upon
tie Duke of Norfolk's warrant."

** Why, so in sooth I did ; I do remember it. . . • .

What did I with it ! I am very feeble So

oft these days doth my memory play the traitor with
me 'Tis strange, strange — "

The king dropped into inarticulate mumblings,
shaking his gray head weakly from time to time, and
g^ropingly trying to recollect what he had done with

70 The Prince and the Pauper

the Seal. At last my Lord Hertford ventured to
kneel and offer information—

"Sire, if that I may be so bold, here be several
that do remember with me how that you gave the
Great Seal into the hands of his Highness the Prince
of Wales to keep against the day that — "

"True, most true!" interrupted the king. "Fetch
it! Go : time flieth !"

Lord Hertford flew to Tom, but returned to the
king before very long, troubled and empty-handed.
He delivered himself to this effect :

"It grieveth me, my lord the king, to bear so
heavy and unwelcome tidings; but it is the will of
God that the prince's affliction abideth still, and he
cannot recall to mind that he received the Seal. So
came I quickly to report, thinking it were waste of
precious time, and little worth withal, that any
should attempt to search the long array of chambers
and saloons that belong unto his royal high — "

A groan from the king interrupted my lord at this
point. After a little while his majesty said, with a
deep sadness in his tone :

"Trouble him no more, poor child. The hand
of God lieth heavy upon him, and my heart goeth
out in loving compassion for him, and sorrow that I
may not bear his burden on mine own old trouble-
weighted shoulders, and so bring him peace."

He closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and pres-
ently was silent. After a time he opened his eyes
again, and gazed vacantly around until his glance

The Prince and the Pauper 71

rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instandy
his face flushed with wrath :

"What, thou here yet! By the glory of God,
an' thou gettest not about that traitor's business,
thy mitre shall have holiday the morrow for lack of
a head to grace withal ! ' '

The trembling Chancellor answered :

' * Good your majesty, I cry you mercy ! I but
waited for the Seal."

** Man, hast lost thy wits? The small Seal which
aforetime I was wont to take with me abroad Heth in
my treasury. And, since the Great Seal hath flown
away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy wits? Be-
gone ! And hark ye, — come no more till thou do
bring his head."

The poor Chancellor was not long in removing
himself from this dangerous vicinity; nor did the
commission waste time in giving the royal assent to
the work of the slavish Parliament, and appointing
the morrow for the beheading of the premier peer
of England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk.*

* See Note 5, at end of volume.

CHAPTER IX.

THE RIVER PAGEANT

AT nine in the evening the whole vast river-front
of the palace was blazing with light. The river
itself, as far as the eye could reach citywards, was
so thickly covered with watermen's boats and with
pleasure-barges, all fringed with colored lanterns,
and gently agitated by the waves, that it resembled
a glowing and limitless garden of flowers stirred to
soft motion by summer winds. The grand terrace
of stone steps leading down to the water, spacious
enough to mass the army of a German principality
upon, was a picture to see, with its ranks of royal
halberdiers in polished armor, and its troops of
brilliantly costumed servitors flitting up and down,
and to and fro, in the hurry of preparation.

Presently a command was given, and immediately
all living creatures vanished from the steps. Now
the air was heavy with the hush of suspense and
expectancy. As far as one's vision could carry, he
might see the myriads of people in the boats rise up,
and shade their eyes from the glare of lanterns and
torches, and gaze toward the palace.

(72)

The Prince and the Pauper 73

A file of forty or fifty state barges drew up to the
steps. They were richly gilt, and their lofty prows
and sterns were elaborately carved. Some of them
were decorated with banners and streamers; some
with clpth-of-gold and arras embroidered with coats-
of-arms ; others with silken flags that had number-
less little silver bells fastened to them, which shook
out tiny showers of joyous music whenever the
breezes fluttered them ; others of yet higher preten-
sionsy since they belonged to nobles in the prince's
immediate service, had their sides picturesquely
fenced with shields gorgeously emblazoned with
armorial bearings. Each state barge was towed by
a tender. Besides the rowers, these tenders carried
each a number of men-at-arms in glossy helmet and
breastplate, and a company of musicians.

The advance-guard of the expected procession
now appeared in the great gateway, a troop of hal-
berdiers. "They were dressed in striped hose of
black and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sides with
silver roses, and doublets of murrey and blue cloth,
embroidered on the front and back with the three
feathers, the prince's blazon, woven in gold. Their
halberd staves were covered with crimson velvet,
fastened with gilt nails, and ornamented with gold
tassels. Filing off on the right and left, they formed
two long lines, extending from the gateway of the
palace to the water's edge. A thick, rayed cloth or
carpet was then unfolded, and laid down between
them by attendants in the gold-and-crimson liveries

74 The Prince ana the Pauper

of the prince. This done, a flourish of trumpets
resounded from within. A lively prelude arose from
the musicians on the water; and two ushers with
white wands marched with a slow and stately pace
from the portal. They were followed by an officer
bearing the civic mace, after whom came another
carrying the city's sword; then several sergeants of
the city guard, in their full accouterments, and with
badges on their sleeves; then the Garter king-at-
arms, in his tabard; then several knights of the
Bath, each with a white lace on his sleeve; then
their esquires; then the judges, in their robes of
scarlet and coifs ; then the Lord High Chancellor of
England, in a robe of scarlet, open before, and
purfled with minever; then a deputation of alder-
men, in their scarlet cloaks; and then the heads of
the different civic Companies, in their robes of state.
Now came twelve French gentlemen, in splendid
habiliments, consisting of pourpoints of white
damask barred with gold, short mantles of crimson
velvet lined with violet taffeta, and carnation-colored
hautS'de-chausseSy and took their way down the
steps. They were of the suite of the French am-
bassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliers of
the suite of the Spanish ambassador, clothed in
black velvet, unrelieved by any ornament. Follow-
ing these came several great English nobles with
their attendants."

There was a flourish of trumpets within ; and the
prince's uncle, the future great Duke of Somerset,

The Prince and the Pauper 75

emerged from the gateway, arrayed in a ** doublet
of black cloth-of-gold, and a cloak of crimson satin
flowered with gold, and ribanded with nets of
silver." He turned, doffed his plumed cap, bent
his body in a low reverence, and began to step
backward, bowing at each step. A prolonged
trumpet-blast followed, and a proclamation, ** Way
for the high and mighty, the Lord Edward, Prince
of Wales ! ' ' High aloft on the palace walls a long
line of red tongues of flame leaped forth with a
thunder-crash ; the massed world on the river burst
into a mighty roar of welcome ; and Tom Canty,
the cause and hero of it all, stepped into view, and
slightly bowed his princely head.

He was ** magnificently habited in a doublet of
white satin, with a front-piece of purple cloth-of-
tissue, powdered with diamonds, and edged with
ermine. Over this he wore a mantle of white cloth-
of-gold, pounced with the triple-feather crest, lined
with blue satin, set with pearls and precious stones,
and fastened with a clasp of brilliants. About his
neck hung the order of the Garter, and several
princely foreign orders;" and wherever light fell
upon him jewels responded with a blinding flash.
O, Tom Canty, born in a hovel, bred in the gutters
of London, familiar with rags and dirt and misery,
what a spectacle is this 1

CHAPTER X.

THE PRINCE IN THE TOILS

W /E left John Canty dragging the rightful prince
VV into Offal Court, with a noisy and delighted
mob at his heels. There was but one person in it
who offered a pleading word for the captive, and he
was not heeded ; he was hardly even heard, so great
was the turmoil. The prince continued to struggle
for freedom, and to rage against the treatment he
was suffering, until John Canty lost what litde
patience was left in him, and raised his oaken cudgel
in a sudden fury over the prince's head. The single
pleader for the lad sprang to stop the man's arm,
and the blow descended upon his own wrist. Canty
roared out:

••Thou'lt meddle, wilt thou? Then have thy
reward."

His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler's

head ; there was a groan, a dim form sank to the

ground among the feet of the crowd, and the next

moment it lay there in the dark alone. The mob

pressed on, their enjoyment nothing disturbed by

this episode.

(76)

The Prince and the Pauper 71

Presently the prince found himself in John Canty' s
abode, with the door closed against the outsiders. By
the vague light of a tallow candle which was thrust
into a bottle, he made out the main features of the
loathsome den, and also of the occupants of it.
Two frowsy girls and a middle-aged woman cowered
against the wall in one corner, with the aspect of
animals habituated to harsh usage, and expecting
and dreading it now. From another corner stole a
withered hag with streaming gray hair and malignant
eyes. John Canty said to this one :

"Tarry! There's fine mummeries here. Mar
them not till thou'st enjoyed them; then let thy
hand be heavy as thou wilt. Stand forth, lad.
Now say thy foolery again, an' thou'st not forgot
it. Name thy name. Who art thou?"

The insulted blood mounted to the little prince's
cheek once more, and he lifted a steady and indig-
nant gaze to the man's face, and said:

•* 'Tis but ill-breeding in such as thou to com-
mand me to speak. I tell thee now, as I told thee
before, I am Edward, Prince of Wales, and none
other/'

The stunning surprise of this reply nailed the
hag's feet to the floor where she stood, and almost
took her breath. She stared at the prince in stupid
amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son that
he burst into a roar of laughter. But the effect
upon Tom Canty' s mother and sisters was different.
Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to

6

78 The Prince and the Pauper

distress of a different sort. They ran forward with
woe and dismay in their faces, exclaiming :

"Oh, poor Tom, poor lad !"

The mother fell on her knees before the prince,
put her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed yearn-
ingly into his face through her rising tears. Then
she said :

"Oh, my poor boy! thy foolish reading hath
wrought its woful work at last, and ta'en thy wit away.
Ah! why didst thou cleave to it when I so warned
thee 'gainst it? Thou'st broke thy mother's heart."

The prince looked into her face, and said gently :

"Thy son is well and hath not lost his wits,
good dame. Comfort thee; let me to the palace
where he is, and straightway will the king my father
restore him to thee."

"The king thy father! Oh, my child! unsay
these words that be freighted with death for thee,
and ruin for all that be near to thee. Shake off this
grewsome dream. Call back thy poor wandering:
memory. Look upon me. Am not I thy mother
that bore thee, and loveth thee?"

The prince shook his head, and reluctantly said :

"God knoweth I am loath to grieve thy heart;
but truly have I never looked upon thy face before."

The woman sank back to a sitting posture on the
floor, and, covering her eyes with her hands, gave
way to heart-broken sobs and waitings.

"Let the show go on!" shouted Canty. "What,
Nan ! what, Bet ! Mannerless wenches ! will ye stand

The Prince and the Pauper 79

in the prince's presence? Upon your knees, ye
pauper scum, and do him reverence!"

He followed this with another horse-laugh. The
girls began to plead timidly for their brother ; and
Nan said :

•'An* thou wilt but let him to bed, father, rest
and sleep will heal his madness; prithee, do."

•* Do, father," said Bet; ** he is more worn than
is his wont. To-morrow will he be himself again,
and will beg with diligence, and come not empty
home again."

This remark sobered the father's joviality, and
brought his mind to business. He turned angrily
upon the prince, and said :

**The morrow must we pay two pennies to him
that owns this hole; two pennies mark ye, — all this
money for a half-year's rent, else out of this we go.
Show what thou'st gathered with thy lazy begging."

The prince said :

" Offend me not with thy sordid matters. I teU
thee again I am the king's son."

A sounding blow upon the prince's shoulder from
Canty's broad palm sent him staggering into good*
wife Canty's arms, who clasped him to her breast,
and sheltered him from a pelting rain of cuffs and
slaps by interposing her own person.

The frightened girls retreated to their comer ; but
the grandmother stepped eagerly forward to assist
her son. The prince sprang away from Mrs. Canty,
exclaiming :

80 The Prince and tbe Pauper

*'Thou shalt not suffer for me, madam. Let
tbese swine do their will upon me alone."

This speech infuriated the swine to such a degree
that they set about their work without waste of time.
Between them they belabored the boy right soundly,
and then gave the girls and their mother a beating
for showing sympathy for the victim.

**Now," said Canty, "to bed, all of ye. The
entertainment has tired me."

The light was put out, and the family retired. As
soon as the snorings of the head of the house and
his mother showed that they were asleep, the young
girls crept to where the prince lay, and covered him
tenderly from the cold with straw and rags ; and their
mother crept to him also, and stroked his hair, and
cried over him, whispering broken words of comfort
and compassion in his ear the while. She had saved
a morsel for him to eat also; but the boy's pains
had swept away all appetite, — at least for black and
tasteless crusts. He was touched by her brave and
costly defense of him, and by her commiseration;
and he thanked her in very noble and princely
words, and begged her to go to her sleep and try to
forget her sorrows. And he added that the king
his father would not let her loyal kindness and de-
votion go unrewarded. This return to his "mad-
ness" broke her heart anew, and she strained him
to her breast again and again and then went back,
drowned in tears, to her bed.

As she lay thinking and mourning, the suggestion

The Prince and the Pauper 81

began to creep into her mind that there was an un*
definable something about this boy that was lacking
in Tom Canty, mad or sane. She could not describe
it, she could not tell just what it was, and yet her
sharp mother-instinct seemed to detect it and per-
ceive it. What if the boy were really not her son,
after all? Oh, absurd! She almost smiled at the
idea, spite of her griefs and troubles. No matter,
she found that it was an idea that would not
"down," but persisted in haunting her. It pur-
sued her, it harassed her, it clung to her, and re-
fused to be put away or ignored. At last she per-
ceived that there was not going to be any peace for
her until she should devise a test that should prove,
clearly and without question, whether this lad was
her son or not, and so banish these wearing and
worrying doubts. Ah, yes, this was plainly the
right way out of the difficulty ; therefore she set her
wits to work at once to contrive that test. But it
was an easier thing to propose than to accomplish.
She turned over in her mind one promising test
after another, but was obliged to relinquish them
all — none of them were absolutely sure, absolutely
perfect ; and an imperfect one could not satisfy her.
Evidently she was racking . her head in vain — it
seemed manifest that she must give the matter up.
While this depressing thought was passing through
her mind, her ear caught the regular breathing of
the boy, and she knew he had fallen asleep. And

while she listened, the measured breathing was
6

82 The Prince and the Pauper

broken by a soft, startled cry, such as one utters
in a troubled dream. This chance occurrence fur-
nished her instantly with a plan worth all her labored
tests combined. She at once set herself feverishly,
but noiselessly, to work to relight her candle, mut*
tering to herself, ''Had I but seen him then, I
should have known ! Since that day, when he was
little, that the powder burst in his face, he hath
never been startled of a sudden out of his dreams
or out of his thinkings, but he hath cast his hand
before his eyes, even as he did that day, and not as
others would do it, with the palm inward, but always
with the palm turned outward — I have seen it a ^
hundred times, and it hath never varied nor ever
failed. Yes, I shall soon know now!"

By this time she had crept to the slumbering
boy's side, with the candle shaded in her hand. She
bent heedfuUy and warily over him, scarcely breath-
ing, in her suppressed excitement, and suddenly
flashed the light in his face and struck the floor
by his ear with her knuckles. The sleeper's eyes
sprung wide open, and he cast a startled stare about
him — but he made no special movement with his
hands.

The poor woman was smitten almost helpless with
surprise and grief; but she contrived to hide her
emotions, and to soothe the boy to sleep again;
then she crept apart and communed miserably with
herself upon the disastrous result of her experiment.
She tried to believe that her Tom's madness had

The Prince and the Pauper 83

banished this habitual gesture of his; but she could
not do it. " No," she said, " his hands are not
mad, they could not unlearn so old a habit in so
brief a time. Oh, this is a heavy day for me !"

Still, hope was as stubborn now as doubt had
been before; she could not bring herself to accept
the verdict of the test; she must try the thing
again — ^the failure must have been only an acci-
dent; so she startled the boy out of his sleep a
second and a third time, at intervals — with the
same result which had marked the first test — then
she dragged herself to bed, and fell sorrowfully
asleep, saying, " But I cannot give him up — oh,
no, I cannot, I cannot — he must be my boy !"

The poor mother's interruptions having ceased,
and the prince's pains having gradually lost their
power to disturb him, utter weariness at last sealed
his eyes in a profound and restful sleep. Hour
after hour slipped away, and still he slept like the
dead. Thus four or five hours passed. Then his
stupor began to lighten. Presently, while half asleep
and half awake, he murmured:

" Sir William !"

After a moment :

"Ho, Sir William Herbert! Hie thee hither,'

and list to the strangest dream that ever Sir

William I Dost hear ? Man, I did think me changed

to a pauper, and Ho there ! Guards ! Sir

William! What! is there no groom of the chamber
in waiting? Alack it shall go hard with — "

F

84 The Prince and the Pauper

••What aileth thee?" asked a whisper near him.
•• Who art thou calling?"

' • Sir William Herbert. Who art thou ?' '

••I? Who should I be, but thy sister Nan? Oh,
Tom, I had forgot! Thou'rt mad yet — poor lad
thou'rt mad yet, would I had never woke to know it
again ! But, prithee, master thy tongue, lest we be
all beaten till we die ! "

The startled prince sprang partly up, but a sharp
reminder from his stiffened bruises brought him to
himself, and he sunk back among his foul straw with
a moan and the ejaculation :

•* Alas, it was no dream, then !"

In a moment all the heavy sorrow and misery
which sleep had banished were upon him again, and
he realized that he was no longer a petted prince in
a palace, with the adoring eyes of a nation upon
him, but a pauper, an outcast, clothed in rags,
prisoner in a den fit only for beasts, and consorting
with beggars and thieves.

In the midst of his grief he began to be conscious
of hilarious noises and shoutings, apparently but a
block or two away. The next moment there were
several sharp raps at the door ; John Canty ceased
from snoring and said :

• • Who knocketh ? What wilt thou ?' '

A voice answered :

•* Know'st thou who it was thou laid thy cudgel
on?"

*• No. Neither know I, nor care."

The Prince and the Pauper 85

•'Belike thou 'It change thy note eftsoons. An'
thou would save thy neck, nothing but flight may
stead thee. The man is this moment delivering up
the ghost. 'Tis the priest, Father Andrew!"

•* God-a-mercy !" exclaimed Canty. He roused
his family, and hoarsely commanded, ** Up with ye
all and fly — or bide where ye are and perish !''

Scarcely five minutes later the Canty household were
in the street and flying for their lives. John Canty
held the prince by the wrist, and hurried him along
the dark way, giving him this caution in a low voice :

"' Mind thy tongue, thou mad fool, and speak not
our name. I will choose me a new name, speedily,
to throw the law's dogs off the scent. Mind thy
tongue, I tell thee!"

He growled these words to the rest of the family :

•* If it so chance that we be separated, let each
make for London bridge ; whoso findeth himself as
far as the last linen-draper's shop on the bridge, let
him tarry there till the others be come, then will we
flee into Southwark together."

At this moment the party burst suddenly out of
darkness into light ; and not only into light, but into
the midst of a multitude of singing, dancing, and
shouting people, massed together on the river
frontage. There was a line of bonfires stretching
as far as one could see, up and down the Thames ;
London bridge was illuminated; Southwark bridge
likewise ; the entire river was aglow with the flash
and sheen of colored lights, and constant explosions

86 The Prince and the Pauper

of fireworks filled the skies with an intricate com-
mingling of shooting splendors and a thick rain of
dazzling sparks that almost turned night into day;
everywhere were crowds of revelers; all London
seemed to be at large.

John Canty delivered himself of a furious curse
and commanded a retreat; but it was too late. He
and his tribe were swallowed up in that swarming
hive of humanity, and hopelessly separated from
each other in an instant. We are not considering
that the prince was one of his tribe; Canty still kept
his grip upon him. The prince's heart was beating
high with hopes of escape now. A burly waterman,
considerably exalted with liquor, found himself
rudely shoved by Canty in his efforts to plow
through the crowd ; he laid his great hand on Canty's
shoulder and said :

"Nay, whither so fast, friend? Dost canker thy
soul with sordid business when all that be leal men
and true make holiday?"

"Mine affairs are mine own, they concern thee
not," answered Canty, roughly; "take away thy
hand and let me pass."

"Sith that is thy humor, thou'lt not pass till
thou'st drunk to the Prince of Wales, I tell thee
that," said the waterman, barring the way resolutely.

"Give me the cup, then, and make speed, make
speed."

Other revelers were interested by this time. They
cried out :

The Prince and the Pauper 87

'•The loving-cup, the loving-cup! make the sour
knave drink the loving-cup, else will we feed him to
the fishes."

So a huge loving-cup was brought; the water-
man, grasping it by one of its handles, and with his
other hand bearing up the end of an imaginary nap-
kin, presented it in due and anctent form to Canty ^
who had to grasp the opposite handle with one of his
hands and take off the lid with the other, according
to ancient custom.* This left the prince hand-free
for a second, of course. He wasted no time, but dived
among the forest of legs about him and disappeared.
In another moment he could not have been harder to
find, under that tossing sea of life, if its billows had
been the Atlantic's and he a lost sixpence.

He very soon realized this fact, and straightway
busted himself about his own affairs without further
thought of John Canty. He quickly realized another
thing, too. To wit, that a spurious Prince of Wales
was being feasted by the city in his stead. He
easily concluded that the pauper lad, Tom Canty,
had deliberately taken advantage of his stupendous
opportunity and become a usurper.

Therefore there was but one course to pursue —
find his way to the Guildhall, make himself known,
and denounce the impostor. He also made up his
mind that Tom should be allowed a reasonable time
for spiritual preparation, and then be hanged, drawn,
and quartered, according to the law and usage of
the day, in cases of high treason.

* See Note 6, at end of volume.

CHAPTER XL

AT GUILDHALL

TTTiE royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet,
I took its stately way down the Thames through
the wilderness of illuminated boats. The air was
laden with music; the river banks were beruffled
with joy-flames ; the distant city lay in a soft lumin-
ous glow from its countless invisible bonfires ; above
it rose many a slender spire into the sky, incrusted
with sparkling lights, wherefore in their remoteness
they seemed like jeweled lances thrust aloft ; as the
fleet swept along, it was greeted from the banks with
a continuous hoarse roar of cheers and the ceaseless
flash and boom of artillery.

To Tom Canty, half buried in his silken cushions,
these sounds and this spectacle were a wonder un-
speakably sublime and astonishing. To his little
friends at his side, the Princess Elizabeth and the
Lady Jane Grey, they were nothing.

Arrived at the Dowgate, the fleet was towed up

the limpid Walbrook (whose channel has now been

for two centuries buried out of sight under acres of

buildings) to Bucklersbury, past houses and under

(88)

The Prince and the Pauper 89

bridges populous with merry-makers and brilliantly
lighted, and at last came to a halt in a basin where
now is Barge Yard, in the center of the ancient city
of London. Tom disembarked, and he and his
gallant procession crossed Cheapside and made a
short march through the Old Jewry and Basinghall
street to the Guildhall.

Tom and his little ladies were received with due
ceremony by the Lord Mayor and the Fathers of
the City, in their gold chains and scarlet robes of
state, and conducted to a rich canopy of state at the
head of the great hall, preceded by heralds making
proclamation, and by the Mace and the City Sword.
The lords and ladies who were to attend upon Tom
and his two small friends took their places behind
their chairs.

At a lower table the court grandees and other
guests of noble degree were seated, with the mag-
nates of the city ; the commoners took places at a
multitude of tables on the main floor of the hall.
From their lofty vantage-ground, the giants Gog and
Magog, the ancient guardians of the city, contem-
plated the spectacle below them with eyes grown
familiar to it in forgotten generations. There was a
bugle-blast and a proclamation, and a fat butler
appeared in a high perch in the leftward wall, fol-
lowed by his servitors bearing with impressive
solemnity a royal Baron of Beef, smoking hot and
ready for the knife.

After grace, Tom (being instructed) rose — and

90 The Prince and the Pauper

the whole house with him — and drank from a portly
golden loving-cup with the Princess Elizabeth; from
her it passed to the Lady Jane, and then traversed
the general assemblage. So the banquet began.

By midnight the revelry was at its height. Now
came one of those picturesque spectacles so admired
in that old day. A description of it is still extant in
the quaint wording of a chronicler who witnessed it :

''Space being made, presently entered a baron
and an earl appareled after the Turkish fashion in
long robes of bawdkin powdered with gold ; hats on
their heads of crimson velvet, with great rolls of
gold, girded with two swords, called scimitars, hang-
ing by great bawdricks of gold. Next came yet
another baron and another earl, in two long gowns
of yellow satin, traversed with white satin, and in
every bend of white was a bend of crimson satin,
after the fashion of Russia, with furred hats of gray
on their heads ; either of them having an hatchet in
their hands, and boots viithpyies** (points a foot
long), " turned up. And after them came a knight,
then the Lord High Admiral, and with him five
nobles, in doublets of crimson velvet, voyded low
on the back and before to the cannell-bone, laced
on the breasts with chains of silver; and, over that,
short cloaks of crimson satin, and on their heads
hats after the dancers' fashion, with pheasants'
feather in them. These were appareled after the
fashion of Prussia. The torch-bearers, which were

The Prince and the Pauper 91

about an hundred, were appareled in crimson satin
and green, like Moors, their faces black. Next
came in a mommarye. Then the minstrels, which
were disguised, danced; and the lords and ladies
did wildly dance also, that it was a pleasure to
behold."

And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon
this "wild" dancing, lost in admiration of the daz-
zling commingling of kaleidoscopic colors which the
whirling turmoil of gaudy figures below him pre-
sented, the ragged but real little Prince of Wales was
proclaiming his rights and his wrongs, denouncing
the impostor, and clamoring for admission at the
gates of Guildhall! The crowd enjoyed this episode
prodigiously, and pressed forward and craned their
necks to see the small rioter. Presently they began
to taunt him and mock at him, purposely to goad
him into a higher and still more entertaining fury.
Tears of mortification sprung to his eyes, but he
stood his ground and defied the mob right royally.
Other taunts followed, added mockings stung him,
and he exclaimed :

"I tell ye again, you pack of unmannerly curs, I
am the Prince of Wales I And all forlorn and friend-
less as I be, with none to give me word of grace or
help me in my need, yet will not I be driven from
my ground, but will maintain it !''

"Though thou be prince or no prince, *tis all one,
thou be'st a gallant lad, and not friendless neither I
Here stand I by thy side to prove it; and mind I

92 The Prince and the Pauper

tell thee thou might'st have a worser friend than
Miles Hendon and yet not tire thy legs with seeking.
Rest thy small jaw, my child, I talk the language of
these base kennel-rats like to a very native."

The speaker was a sort of Don Caesar de Bazan in
dress, aspect, and bearing. He was tall, trim-built,
muscular. His doublet and trunks were of rich
material, but faded and threadbare, and their gold-
lace adornments were sadly tarnished ; his ruff was
rumpled and damaged ; the plume in his slouched
hat was broken and had a bedraggled and disrepu-
table look ; at his side he wore a long rapier in a
rusty iron sheath; his swaggering carriage marked
him at once as a rufHer of the camp. The speech
of this fantastic figure was received with an ex-
plosion of jeers and laughter. Some cried, ** 'Tis
another prince in disguise 1" ** 'Ware thy tongue,
friend, belike he is dangerous!" ** Marry, he look-
eth it — mark his eye!" ** Pluck the lad from him
— to the horse-pond wi' the cub!"

Instantly a hand was laid upon the prince, under
the impulse of this happy thought; as instantly the
stranger's long sword was out and the meddler went
to the earth under a sounding thump with the flat of
it. The next moment a score of voices shouted
'*Kill the dog! kill him! kill him!" and the mob
closed in on the warrior, who backed himself against
a wall and began to lay about him with his long
weapon like a madman. His victims sprawled this
way and that, but the mob-tide poured over their

The Prince and tbe Pauper . 93

prostrate torm^ and dashed itself against the cham*
pion with undiminished fury. His moments seemed
numbered* his destruction certain* wbjen suddenly a
trumpet-blast sounded, a voice shouted, ''Way for
the king's messenger 1" and a troop of horsemen
came charging down upon the mob, who fled out of
harm's reach as fast as their legs could carry them.
The bold stranger caught up the prince in his arms,
and was spon fsu: away from danger and the multi-
tude.

Return w& within the GuildhaU, Suddenly* high
above the jubilant roar and thunder o£ th& revel,
broke the clear peal o£ a buc^-tiote. There was
in3l;ant silence,-^ a deep hush; tbeiai a single voice
rose — • that of the messenger f ro«a the palace-^ and
begai^ ta pipe forth a proc.Umatipii:» the whole
multitude standing, listening. The closing words,
solemnly pcoapuniced* were:

••The king ia dead!'*

The groat assemblage bent tibek kmda vpon. their
breasts with one accord ; reiminied so, in profound
silence), a few moments; then atl ^nk upon their
knees in a body, stretched out tbeic handa toward
Tom, and a mighty shout burst forth that seemed to
shake the building:

•• Long live the IdngT*

Poor Tom's dazed eyes wandered abroad over this
stupefying spectacle, and finally rested dreamily
upon the kneeling princesses beside him a moment,
then upon the Earl of Hertford. A sudden purpose

94 The Prince and the Pauper

dawned in his face. He said, in a low tone, at Lord
Hertford's ear:

•'Answer me truly, on thy faith and honor 1
Uttered I here a command, the which none but a
king might hold privilege and prerogative to utter,
would such commandment be obeyed, and none rise
up to say me nay?"

*' None, my liege, in all these realms. In thy
person bides the majesty of England. Thou art the
king — thy word is law."

Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and
with great animation :

** Then shall the king's law be law of mercy, from
this day, and never more be law of blood ! Up
from thy knees and away ! To the Tower and say
the king decrees the Duke of Norfolk shall not
die!"*

The words were caught up and carried eagerly
from lip to lip far and wide over the hall, and as
Hertford hurried from the presence, another pro-
digious shout burst forth :

"The reign of blood is ended 1 Long live Ed-
ward, king of England T'

* See Note 7, at end of volmiiiew

CHAPTER XIL

THE PRINCE AND HIS DELIVERER

AS soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince
were clear of the mob, they struck down
through back lanes and alleys toward the river.
Their way was unobstructed until they approached
London Bridge ; then they plowed into the multitude
again, Hendon keeping a fast grip upon the prince's
— no, the king's — wrist. The tremendous news
was already abroad, and the boy learned it from a
thousand voices at once — "The king is deadl"
The tidings struck a chill to the heart of the poor
little waif, and sent a shudder through his frame.
He realized the greatness of his loss, and was filled
with a bitter grief; for the grim tyrant who had
been such a terror to others had always been gentle
with him. The tears sprung to his eyes and blurred
all objects. For an instant he felt himself the most
forlorn, outcast, and forsaken of God's creatures —
then another cry shook the night with its far-reaching
thunders: ''Long like King Edward the Sixth!'*
and this made his eyes kindle, and thrilled him with
pride to his fingers' ends. **Ah," he thought,
•* how grand and strange it seems — I AM king!"

(95)

^^ thoughts,

^E bridgy wsi

^L be narrow

^^^^^^ were born

96 The Prince and the Pauper

Our friends threaded their way slowly through the
throngs upon the Bridge. This structure, which had
stood for six hundred years, and had been a noisy
and populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curi-
ous aRair, for a closely packed rank of stores and
shops, with family quarters overhead, stretched along
both sides of it, from one bank of the river to the
other. The Bridge was a sort of town to itself; it
had its tnn, its beer houses, its bakeries, its haber-
dasheries, its food markets, its manufacturing indus-
tries, and efen its church. It looked upon the two
neighbors which it linked together — -London and
Southwark — as being well enough, as suburbs, but
not otherwise particulariy important. It was a close
corporation, so to speak; it was a narrow town,
of a single street a fifth of a mile long, its popula-
tion was but a village population, and everybody in
ft knew all his fellow townsmen intimately, and had
known tfieir fathers and mothers before them — and
all their little family affairs into the bat^n. It had
its aristocracy, of course — its fine old families of
butchers, and bakers, and what-not, who had occu-
pied the same old premises for five or six hundred
years, and knew the great history of the Bridge from
be^nning to end, and all its strange legends; and
who always talked bridgy talk, and thought bridgy
thoughts, and lied in a long, level, direct, substantial
bridgy way. It was just the sort of population to
be narrow and ignorant and self-conceited. Children
were born on the Bridge, were reared there, grew to

The Prince and ilie Pauper 97

old age and finally died without ever having set a
foot upon any part of the world but London Bridge
alone. Such people would naturally imagine that
the mighty and interminable procession which moved
through its street night and day, with its confused
roar of shouts and cries, its neighings and bellow-
iogs and hleatings and its muffled thunder-tramp,
waa the oixe great thing in this world, and themselves
somehow the proprietors of it. And so they were
in effect — at least they could exhibit it from their
windows^ and did -^^ for a consideration**- whenever
a retumiag king or hero gave it a fleeting splendor,
for there wa9 00 place like it for affording a
losigi alraight» uninterrupted view of marching
columns.

Men borfi and reared upon the Bridge found life
unendurably duU and inane elsewhere. History tells
of one of the^ who left the Bridge at the age of
SQventy*Qae and retired to thet country. But he
CQukl only fret and tos$ in his bed ; be could not go
tQ sleep, the deep stillnei^s was so painful> so awful,
so oppressive. When he was worn out with it^ at
l^tj, he fled back ta hi$ old home, a leaa and hag-
gard specter, and fell peacefully ta rest and pleasant
dreams^ under the lulU(% music d tib/e lasihii^ waters
and the boom and crash and thunder of London
BrWjfe.

In the timesi of which we are writing, the Bridge

furnished ** object lessons" in English history, for

it9^ children-^- namely, the Uvid and decaying head*^
7

98 The Prince and the Pauper

of renowned men impaled upon iron spikes atop of
its gateways. But we digress.

Hendon's lodgings were in the little inn on the
Bridge. As he neared the door with his small
friend, a rough voice said :

**So, thou'rt come at last! Thou'lt not escape
again, I warrant thee; and if pounding thy bones to
a pudding can teach thee somewhat, thou 'It not
keep us waiting another time, mayhap " — and John
Canty put out his hand to seize the boy.

Miles Hendon stepped in the way, and said :

•*Not too fast, friend. Thou art needlessly
rough, methinks. What is the lad to thee?"

* * If it be any business of thine to make and med*
die in others' affairs, he is my son."

•• 'Tis a lie!" cried the little king, hotly.

*• Boldly said, and I believe thee, whether thy
small head-piece be sound or cracked, my boy.
But whether this scurvy ruffian be thy father or no,
'tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and
abuse, according to his threat, so thou prefer to
abide with me."

** I do, I do — I know him not, I loathe him, and
will die before I will go with him."

" Then 'tis settled, and there is nought more to
say."

"We will see, as to that!" exclaimed John
Canty, striding past Hendon to get at the boy;
" by force shall he —"

** If thou do but touch him, thou animated offal.

The Prince and the Pauper 99

I will spit thee like a goose !" said Hendon, barring
the way and laying his hand upon his sword hilt.
Canty drew back, **Now mark ye," continued
Hendon, '* I took this lad under my protection
when a mob of such as thou would have mishandled
him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert
him now to a worser fate? — for whether thou art his
father or no, — and sooth to say, I think it is a lie —
a decent swift death were better for such a lad than
life in such brute hands as thine. So go thy ways,
and set quick about it, for I like not much bandying
of words, being not overpatient in my nature."

John Canty moved off, muttering threats and
curses, and was swallowed from sight in the crowd.
Hendon ascended three flights of stairs to his room,
with his charge, after ordering a meal to be sent
thither. It was a poor apartment, with a shabby
bed and some odds and ends of old furniture in it,
and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly
candles. The little king dragged himself to the bed
and lay down upon it, almost exhausted with hunger
and fatigue. He had been on his feet a good part
of a day and a night, for it was now two or three
o'clock in the morning, and had eaten nothing
meantime. He murmured drowsily:

" Prithee, call me when the table is spread/' and
sunk into a deep sleep immediately.

A smile twinkled in Hendon 's eye, and he said to
himself:

By the mass, the little beggar takes to one's

G

««

100 Tlie Prince snd the Pauper

qoarters and usui^ one'« bed with a& natural afnd
easy a grace ^s tf he owned them — wMi never a
by-yonr-leave or 90-please*it-you, or anything of
the sort. In fais diseased ravings he called himself
the Prince <rf Wales, and bravely doth he keep up
the character. Poor little friendless rat, doubtless
his mind has been disordered with ill usage. Well,
I will be his friend ; I have saved him, and it draw-
eth me strongly to him ; already I love the bold-
tongued littfe rascal. How soldier-like he faced the
smutty rabble and Hutig back his hrgh defiance!
And what a tomely, sweet and gentle fate he hath,
now that sle^ hath conjured away its troubles and
its griefs, I will teach him, I will cure his malady;
yea, I will be his elder brother, and care for him
and watch over him ; and whoso would shame him
or do him hort, may order his shroud, for though I
be burnt for it be ^hall need it ! '*

He bent over the boy and contemplated him Math
kind and pitying interest, tapping the young cheek
tenderly and smoothing back the tangled curls with
his great brown hand. A slight shiver passed over
the boy's form, Hendon muttered :

•* See, now, how like a man it was to let him lie
here uncovered and fill his body with deadly rheums.
Now what shall I do? 'Twill wake him to take him
up and put him within the bed, and he sorely need-
eth sleep."

He looked about for extra covering, but finding
none, doffed his doublet and wrapped the lad in it,

• « a « • 4 },

Hie Prince Md tii;' Pzin)er : - ..iCH

- _ » • *

8Ayi&g> * * I am used io mpping air and scant ap-
l^ard^ 'tis little I sbdl miad the cold '' — then walked
up and down the room to keep his blood in motion^
soliioquidng as before.

*' His injured miiid persoades htm he is Prince of
Wales; 'twill be odd to have a Prince of Wales still
with tis^ iKyw that he that wat the prince is prince
mo more, but king -^^ for this poor tnind is set upon
tte one fantasy, and will not reason out that now it
should cast by the prince and call itself the king. • • ^
If my fadier Ih^edi still, after these Mven years that
I 4)ave heard nought from home in my foreign
diangeoti, he t^ill welcome tii^e poor lad and give him
generous shelter for my sake ; so will my good eld^
brother, Arthur; my other broths, Hi^h — but I
will crack his crown^ dn' he interfere, tbe fox-
beatted^ ill-conditioned aiiiftial! Yes, thither will
we fare— and straightway, too."

A servant ^nteited with a ^smoking meal, disposed
it upon a small deal table, placed the chairs^ and
took his diq>art«re, leavii^ sitck cheap lodgers as
tiiest to vnSti apon themselves*. The door slammed
after him-, aiid the tioise woke the boy, who sprung
to a sitting posture, and shot a glad glance about
him ; then a grieved look came into his face atid he
murmured to himsdf) with « deep sigh, ** Alack, it
was but a dream. Woe is me." Next he noticed
Mites Hendon's doublet ^-glanced from that to
Hendon, comprehended the sacrifice that had been
made for him, and said, gendy:

•

* •

•

-li .•• ••• •

.•<<9i ; •! i V^'Pn9Ct and the Pauper

•• Thou art good to me, yes, thou art very good
to me. Take it and put it on — I shall not need it

more/*

Then he got up and walked to the washstand in
the corner, and stood there waiting. Hendon said
in a cheery voice :

*' We'll have a right hearty sup and bite now, for
everything is savory and smoking hot, and that and
thy nap together will make thee a little man again,
never fear!'*

The boy made no answer, but bent a steady look,
that was filled with grave surprise, and also some-
what touched with impatience, upon the tall knight
of the sword. Hendon was puzzled, and said:

'•What's amiss?"

** Good sir, I would wash me/'

'•Oh, is that alll Ask no permission of Miles
Hendon for aught thou cravest. Make thyself per-
fectly free here and welcome, with all that are his
belongings/'

Still the boy stood, and moved not; more, he
tapped the floor once or twice with his small im-
patient foot. Hendon was wholly perplexed. Said
he:

" Bless us, what is it?"

" Prithee, pour the water, and make not so many
words!'*

Hendon, suppressing a horse-laugh, and saying to
himself, "By all the saints, but this is admirable!"
stepped briskly forward and did the small insolent' s

The Prince and the Pauper 103

bidding; then stood by, in a sort of stupefaction,
until the command, ** Come — the towel!'* woke
him sharply up. He took up a towel from under
the boy's nose and handed it to him, without com-
ment. He now proceeded to comfort his own face
with a wash, and while he was at it his adopted child
seated himself at the table and prepared to fall to.
Hendon dispatched his ablutions with alacrity, then
drew back the other chair and was about to place
himself at table, when the boy said, indignantly:

** Forbear 1 Wouldst sit in the presence of the
king?"

This blow staggered Hendon to his foundations.
He muttered to himself, ** Lo, the poor thing's
madness is up with the time ! it hath changed with
the great change that is come to the realm, and now
in fancy is he king! Good lack, I must humor the
conceit, too — there is no other way — faith, he
would order me to the Tower, else!"

And pleased with this jest, he removed the chair
from the table, took his stand behind the king, and
proceeded to wait upon him in the courtliest way he
was capable of.

When the king ate, the rigor of his royal dignity
relaxed a little, and with his growing contentment
came a desire to talk. He said :

" I tliink thou callest thyself Miles Hendon, if I
heard thee aright?"

•*Yes, sire," Miles replied; then observed to
himself, " If I must humor the poor lad's madness,

104 The Prince and ttie Paupei

I must sire him, I must majesty him» I must not go
by halves, I must stick at nothing that belongeth to
the part I play, else shall I play it ill and work evil
to this charitable and kindly cause."

The king warmed his heart with a second glass of
wine, and said: ** I would know thee — tell me thy
story. Thou hast a gallant way with thee, and a
noble — art nobly born?"

"We are of the tail of the nobility, good your
majesty. My father is a baronet — one of the
smaller lords, by knight service*-* Sir Richard Hen-
don, of Hendon Hall, by Monk's Holm in Kent."

* * The name has escaped my memory. Go on —
tell me thy story."

•• 'Tis not much, your majesty, yet perchance it
n^y beguile a short half hour for want of a better.
My father. Sir Richard, is very rich, and of a most
generous nature. My mother died whilst I was yet
a boy. I have two brothers : Arthur, my elder, with
a soul like to his father's; and Hugh, younger than
I, a mean spirit, covetous, treacherous, vicious,
underhanded — a reptile. Such was he from the
cradle ; such was he ten years past, when I last saw
him*— a ripe rascal at nineteen, I being twenty then,
aod Arthur twenty-two. There is none other of us
but the Lady Edith, my cousin — she was sixteen,
then — beautiful, gentle, good, the daughter of an

* He refers to the order of baronets, or baronettes, — the barantf
minores^ as distinct from the parliamentary barons ;— not, it neef*
hardly be said, the baronets of later creation.

The Prince and the Pauper lOS

earl, the last of her race, heiress of a great fortune
and a lapsed title. My father was her guardian. I
loved her and she loved me ; but she was betrothed
to Arthur from the cradle, and Sir Richard would
not suffer the contract to be broken. Arthur loved
another maid, and bad« us be of g^od cheer and
hold fast to the hope that delay and luck together
would some day give success to our iseversd causes.
Hugh loved the Lady Edith's fortune, though in
truth he toid it was herself he loved *^ but then 'twas
his way, alway, to say one thing and mean the
other. But he lost his arts upon the girl ; he could
deceive my father, but none else. My father loved
him best of us all, and trusted and believed him;
for he was the youngest child and others hated him
-^ these qualities being in all ages sufficient to win a
parent's dearest love; and he had a smooth pec^
suasive tongue, with sui admirable gift of lying •^^
and these be qualities which do mightily assist a
blind affection to cozen itself. I was wild -^ in troth
I might go yet farther and say ^very wild, though
'tw^ a wildness of an innocent sort, since it hurt
none but me, brought shame to none, nor loss, nor
had in it any taint of crime or baseness, or what
might not beseem mine honorable degree*

•• Yet did my brother Hugh turn these faults to
good account — he seeing that our brother Arthur's
hesdth was but indifferent, and hoping the worst
might work him profit were I swept out of the path
•—so,— but 'twere a long tale, good my liege, and

106 The Prince and tbe Pauper

little worth the telling. Briefly, then, this brothel
did deftly magnify my faults and make them crimes ;
ending his base work with finding a silken ladder in
mine apartments — conveyed thither by his own
means — and did convince my father by this, and
suborned evidence of servants and other lying
knaves, that I was minded to carry off my Edith
and marry with her, in rank defiance of his will.

** Three years of banishment from home and
England might make a soldier and a man of me, my
father said, and teach me some degree of wisdom.
I fought out my long probation in the continental
wars, tasting sumptuously of hard knocks, privation,
and adventure ; but in my last battle I was taken
captive, and during the seven years that have waxed
and waned since then, a foreign dungeon hath har-
bored me. Through wit and courage I won to the
free air at last, and fled hither straight; and am but
just arrived, right poor in purse and raiment, and
poorer still in knowledge of what these dull seven
years have wrought at Hendon Hall, its people and
belongings. So please you, sir, my meager tale is
told."

•*Thou hast been shamefully abused I" said
the little king, with a flashing eye. **But I will
right thee — by the cross will II The king hath
said it.''

Then, fired by the story of Miles* wrongs, he
loosed his tongue and poured the history of his own
recent misfortunes into the ears of his astonished

The Pnnce and fhe Pauper 107

listener. When he had finished. Miles said to him-
self:

^^Loy what an imagination he hath I Verily this
is no common mind ; else, crazed or sane, it could
not weave so straight and gaudy a tale as this out of
the airy nothings wherewith it hath wrought this
curious romaunt. Poor ruined little head, it shall
not lack friend or shelter whilst I bide with the
living. He shall never leave my side ; he shall be
my pet, my little comrade. And he shall be cured 1
— aye, made whole and sound — then will he make
himself a name — and proud shall I be to say, * Yes,
he IS mine — I took him, a homeless little rag-
amuffin, but I saw what was in him, and I said his
name would be heard someday — behold him, ob-
serve him — was I right?"

The kmg spoke — in a thoughtful, measured voice :

** Thou didst save me injury and shame, perchance
my life, and so my crown. Such service demandeth
rich reward Name thy desire, and so it be within
the compass of my royal power, it is thine/*

This fantastic suggestion startled Hendon out of
his revery. He was about to thank the king and
put the matter aside with saying he had only done
his duty and desired no reward, but a wiser thought
came into his head, and he asked leave to be silent a
few moments and consider the gracious ofier — an
idea which the king gravely approved, remarkii^
that it was best to be not too hasty with a thing ol
such great import

108 The Prince and the Pauper

Miles reflected during some moments, then said to
himself, **Yes, that is the thing to do — by any
other means it were impossible to get at it — and
certes, this hour's experiei»ce has taught me 'twould
be most wearing and inconvenient to continue it as
it is. Yes, I will propose it; 'twas a happy acci-
dent that I did not throw the chance away." Then
he dropped upon one knee and said :

'* My poor service went not beyond the limit of a
subject's simple duty, and therefore hath no merit;
but since your majesty is pleased to hold it worthy
some reward » I take heart oi grace to make petition
to this effect. Near four hundred years ago, as
your grace knoweth, there being ill blood betwixt
John, king of England, and the king of France, it
was decreed that two champions should fight to-
gether in the lists, and so settle the dispute by what
is called the arbitrament of God. These two kings,
and the Spamsh king, being assembled to witness
and judge the conflict, the French champion ap-
peared ; but so redoubtable was he that our English
knights refused to measure weapons with him. So
the matter, which was a weighty one, was like to go
against tiie English monarch by default. Now in
the Tower lay the Lord de Courcy, the mightiest
arm in England, stripped of his honors and posses-
sions, and wasting with long captivity. Appeal was
made to him ; he gave assent, and came forth ar-
rayed for battle ; but no sooner did the Frenchman
glimpse his huge frame and hear his famous name

\

' I «*rr» " ■ v*^

RISE, SIR MILES I

'^ < ^

• • •
» «> •

•
to

to to
to •>
to i-

w «> •

•

W

to 6

c • » »

•
•

• to b
. to. - \
fc «. to ^

*• •- Mk.

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■^.^' :

*•
•

b V

to to ""to

The Prince and the Pauper 109

but he fled away, and the French king's cause was
lost. King John restored De Courcy's titles and
possessions, and said, * Name thy wish and thou
shalt have it, though it cost me half my kingdom;'
whereat De Courcy, kneeling, as I do now, made
answer, ' This, then, I ask, my liege ; that I and my
successors may have and hold the privilege of re-
maining covered in the presence of the kings of
England, henceforth while the throne shall last.'
The boon was granted, as your majesty knoweth;
and there hath been no time, these four hundred
years, that that line has failed of an heir; and so,
even unto this day, the head of that ancient house
still weareth his hat or helm before the king's
majesty, without let or hindrance, and this none
other may do.* Invoking this precedent in aid of
my prayer, I beseech the king to grant to me but
this one grace and privilege — to my more than
sufficient reward — and none other, to wit: that I
and my heirs, forever, may sit in the presence of
the majesty of England !"

** Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, knight," said the king,
gravely — giving the accolade with Hendon's sword
— *• rise, and seat thyself. Thy petition is granted.
While England remains, and the crown continues,
the privilege shall not lapse."

His majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon
dropped into a chair at table, observing to himself,

* The lords of Kmgsale, descendants of De G>ttrcy, sdll en}oy this
smioiis privil^e.

110 The Prince and the Pauper

'* 'Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought me a
mighty deliverance ; my legs are grievously wearied.
An' I had not thought of that> I must have had to
stand for weeks, till my poor lad's wits are cured."
After a little he went on, ** And so I am become a
knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows!
A most odd and strange position, truly, for one so
matter-of-fact as L I will not laugh-— no, God
forbid, for this thing which is so substanceless to
me is real to him. And to me, also, in one way, it
is not a falsity, for it reflects witli truth the sweet
and generous spirit that is in him." After a pause:
** Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title be-
fore folk I — there'd be a merry contrast betwixt my
glory and my raiment I But no matter; let him
call me what he will, so it please him ; I shall be
content."

CHAPTER Xni.

THE DISAPPBARAMCB OP THB FSINCS

A HEAVY drowsiness presently fell upon the two
comrades. The king saidr

*• Remove these rags " — meaning his clothing.

Hendon disappareled the boy without dissent or
remark, tucked him up in bed, then glanced about
the room, saying to himself, ruefully, ** He hath
taken my bed again, as before — marry, what shall
/do?*' The little king observed his perplexity, and
dissipated it with a word. He said, sleepily:

"Thou wilt sleep athwart the. door, and guard
it.*' In a moment more he was out of his troubles,
in a deep slumber.

" Dear heart, he should have been bom a king!'*
muttered Hendon, admiringly; **he playeth the
part to a marvel.**

Then he stretched himself across the door, on the
floor, saying contentedly:

*'I have lodged worse for seven years; 'twould
be but ill gratitude to Him above to find fault with
this/*

He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared. Toward

(HI)

112 The Prince and the Pauper

noon he rose, uncovered his unconscious ward — a
section at a time — and took his measure with a
string. The king awoke, just as he had completed
his work, complained of the cold, and asked what
he was doing.

•• 'Tis done now, my liege,*' said Hendon; *•!
have a bit of business outside, but will presently re-
turn; sleep thou again — thou needest it. There —
let me cover thy head also — thou 'It be warm the
sooner.'*

The king was back in dreamland before this
speech was ended. Miles slipped softly out, «nd
slipped as softly in again, in the course of thirty or
forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of
boy's clothing, of cheap material, and showing signs
of wear ; but tidy, and suited to the season of the
year. He seated himself, and began to overhaul his
purchase, mumbling to himself:

** A longer purse would have got a better sort,
but when one has not the long purse one must be
content with what a short one may do —

*' 'There was a woman in our town.
In our town did dweU '—

'* He Stirred, methinks — I must sing in a less
thunderous key ; 'tis not good to mar his sleep, with
this journey before him and he so wearied out, poor

chap. This garment — 'tis well enough — a

stitch here and another one there will set it aright.
This other is better, albeit a stitch or two will not
come amiss in it, likewise These be very good

The Prince and the Pauper II3

and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and
dry — an odd new thing to him, belike, since he has
doubtless been used to foot it bare, winters and

summers the same Would thread were bread,

seeing one getteth a year's sufficiency for a farthing,
and such a brave big needle without cost, for mere
love. Now shall I have the demon's own time to
thread it 1"

And so he had. He did as men have always
done, and probably always will do, to the end of
time — held the needle still, and tried to thrust the
thread through the eye, which is the opposite of a
woman's way. Time and time again the thread
missed the mark, going sometimes on one side of
the needle, sometimes on the other, sometimes
doubling up against the shaft ; but he was patient,
having been through these experiences before, when
he was soldiering. He succeeded at last, and took
up the garment that had lain waiting, meantime,
across his lap, and began his work. **TheinnJs
paid — the breakfast that is to come, included — and
there is wherewithal left to buy a couple of donkeys
and meet our little costs for the two or three days
betwixt this and the plenty that awaits us at Hendon
Hall —

<* *She loved her hus'—

•* Body o* me ! I have driven the needle under

my nail ! It matters little — 'tis not a novelty

— yet 'tis not a convenience, neither We shall

8

114 The Prince and tbe Pauper

be merry there, little one, never doubt itl Thy
troubles will vanish there» and likewise thy sad dis-
temper—

'^ 'She Icved her husband deaiileet
But anodier man '•—

*• These be noble large stitches T' — holding the
garment up and viewing it admiringly — ** they have
a grandeur and a majesty that do cause these small
stingy ones of the tailor-man to look mighty paltry
and plebeian —

'* ' She loved her husband dearQee,
But another man he loved she/ —

*• Marry, 'tis done — a goodly piece of work,
too, and wrought with expedition. Now will I
wake him, apparel him, pour for him, feed him,
and then will we hie us to the mart by the Tabard
inn in Southwark and — be pleased to rise, my
liege i — he answereth not — what ho, my liege! —
of a truth must I profane his sacred person with a
touch, sith his slumber is deaf to speech. WhatT*

He threw back the covers — the boy was gone 1

He stared about him in speechless astonishment
for a moment; noticed for the first time that his
ward's ragged raiment was also missing, then he
began to rage and storm, and shout for the inn-
keeper. At that moment a servant entered with the
breakfast.

** Explain, thou limb of Satan, or thy time is
comeT' roared the man of war, and made so savage

The Prince and the Pauper 115

a spring toward the waiter that this latter could not
find hia tongue, for the instant, for fright and sur-
prise. *• Where is the boy?'*

In disjointed and trembling syllables the man gave
the information desired.

••You were hardly gone from the place, your
worship, when a youth came running and said it
was your worship's will that the boy come to you
straight, at the bridge-end on the Southwark side. I
brought him hither ; and when he woke the lad and
gave his message, the lad did grumble some little
for being disturbed • so early,* as he called it, but
straightway trussed on his rags and went with the
youth, only saying it had been better manners that
your worship came yourself, not sent a stranger —
and so — '*

••And so thou*rt a fool! — a fool, and easily
cozened — hang all thy breed I Yet mayhap no
hurt is done. Possibly no harm is meant the boy.
I will go f etth him. Make the table ready. Stay I
the coverings of the bed were disposed as if one lay
beneath them — happened that by accident?"

*• I know not, good your worship. I saw the
youth meddle with them — he that came for the
boy.'*

••Thousand deaths! *twas done to deceive me —
*tis plain 'twas done to gain time. Hark ye 1 Was
that youth alone?"

•• All alone, your worship."
•Art sure?'*

116 The Prince and the Pauper

•• Sure, your worship.'*

*• Collect thy scattered wits — bethink thee — take
time, man."

After a moment's thought, the servant said :

" When he came, none came with him; but now
I remember me that as the two stepped into the
throng of the Bridge, a ruffian-looking man pluiiged
out from some near place ; and just as he was join-
ing them — "

•• What then /—out with it!" thundered the im-
patient Hendon, interrupting.

•• Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed
them in, and I saw no more, being called by my
master, who was in a rage because a joint that the
scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all
the saints to witness that to blame me for that mis-
carriage were like holding the unborn babe to judg-
ment for sins com — "

* Out of my sight, idiot 1 Thy prating drives me
mad! Hold! whither art flying? Canst not bide
still an instant? Went they toward Southwark?"

•*Even so, your worship — for, as I said before,
as to that detestable joint, the babe unborn is no
whit more blameless. than — '*

•'Art htr^yet/ And prating still? Vanish, lest
I throttle thee!" The servitor vanished. Hendon
followed after him, passed him, and plunged down
the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, *• *Tis
that scurvy villain that claimed he was his son. I
have lost thee, my poor little mad master — it is a

The Prince and the Pauper 117

bitter thought — and I had come to love thee so I
No ! by book and bell, not lost I Not lost, for I
will ransack the land till I find thee again. Poor
child, yonder is his breakfast — and mine, but I
have no hunger now — so, let the rats have it —
speed, speed! that is the wordl" As he wormed
his swift way through the noisy multitudes upon the
Bridge, he several times said to himself — clinging
to the thought as if it were a particularly pleasing
one: "He grumbled, but he went — he went, yes,
because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet
lad — he would ne'er have done it for another, I
know it well 1 ' '

CHAPTER XIV.

"LE ROI EST MORT— VIVE LE ROI"

TOWARD daylight of the same morning, Tom
Canty stirred out of a heavy sleep and opened
his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few moments,
trying to analyze his confused thoughts and impres-
sions, and get some sort of meaning out of them,
then suddenly he burst out in a rapturous but
guarded voice:

" I see it all, I see it all ! Now God be thanked,
I am, indeed, awake at last ! Come, joy ! vanish,
sorrow ! Ho, Nan ! Bet ! kick off your straw and
hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your
unbelieving ears the wildest madcap dream that ever
the spirits of night did conjure up to astonish

the soul of man withal ! Ho, Nan, I say !

Betr

A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said:
"Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?"

" Commands ? Oh, woe is me, I know thy

voice ! Speak, thou — who am I ?**

"Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the
Prince of Wales, to-day art thou my most gracious

liege, Edward, king of England."

(ii8)

The Prince and the Pauper 119

Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmur-
ing plaintively :

•* Alack, it was no dream ! Go to thy rest, sweet
sir — leave me to my sorrows."

Tom slept again, and after a time he had this
pleasant dream. He thought it was summer and he
was playing, all alone, in the fair meadow called
Goodman's Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high,
with long red whiskers and a humped back, appeared
to him suddenly and said, **Dig, by that stump."
He did so, and found twelve bright new pennies —
wonderful riches ! Yet this was not the best of it ;
for the dwarf said :

** I know thee. Thou art a good lad and deserv-
ing; thy distresses shall end, for the day of thy re-
ward is come. Dig here every seventh day, and
thou shalt find always the same treasure, twelve
bright new pennies. Tell none — keep the secret."

Then the dwarf vanished, and Tom flew to Offal
Court with his prize, saying to himself, ** Every
night will I g^ve my father a penny ; he will think I
begged it, it will glad his heart, and I shall no more
be beaten. One penny every week the good priest
that teacheth me shall have ; mother, Nan and Bet
the other four. We be done with hunger and rags
now, done with fears and frets and savage usage."

In his dream he reached his sordid home all out
of breath, but with eyes dancing with grateful en-
thusiasm ; cast four of his pennies into his mother'9
lap and cried out:

120 The Prince and the Pauper

*• They are for thee 1 — all of them, every one ! —
for thee and Nan and Bet — and honestly come by,
not begged nor stolen !"

The happy and astonished mother strained him to
her breast and exclaimed :

•* It waxeth late — -may it please your majesty to
rise?"

Ah, that was not the answer he was expecting.
The dream had snapped asunder — he was awake.

He opened his eyes — the richly clad First Lord
of the Bedchamber was kneeling by his couch. The
gladness of the lying dream faded away — the poor
boy recognized that he was still a captive and a
king. The room was filled with courtiers clothed in
purple mantles — the mourning color — and with
noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed
and gazed out from the heavy silken curtains upon
this fine company.

The weighty business of dressing began, and one
courtier after another knelt and paid his court and
offered to the little king his condolences upon his
heavy loss, while the dressing proceeded. In the
beginning, a shirt was taken up by the Chief Equerry
in Waiting, who passed it to the First Lord of the
Buckhounds, who passed it to the Second Gentle-
man of the Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head
Ranger of Windsor Forest, who passed it to the
Third Groom of the Stole, who passed it to the
Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, who
passed it to the Master of the Wardrobe, who passed

The Prince and the Pauper 121

it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it to the
Constable of the Tower, who passed it to the Chief
Steward of the Household, who passed it to the
Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed it to the
Lord High Admiral of England, who passed it to
the Archbishop of Canterbury, who passed it to
the First Lord of the Bedchamber, who took what
was left of it and put it on Tom. Poor little wonder-
ing chap, it reminded him of passing buckets at a
fire.

Each garment in its turn had to go through this
slow and solemn process ; consequently Tom grew
very weary of the ceremony ; so weary that he felt
an almost gushing gratefulness when he at last saw
his long silken hose begin the journey down the line
and knew that the end of the matter was drawing
near. But he exulted too soon. The first Lord of
the Bedchamber received the hose and was about to
encase Tom's legs in them, when a sudden flush
invaded his face and he hurriedly hustled the things
back into the hands of the Archbishop of Canter-
bury with an astounded look and a whispered,
** See, my lord!" — pointing to a something con-
nected with the hose. The Archbishop paled, then
flushed, and passed the hose to the Lord High Ad-
miral, whispering, *' See, my lord!" The Admiral
passed the hose to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer,
and had hardly breath enough in his body to ejacu-
late, ''See, my lord!" The hose drifted backward
along the line, to the Chief Steward of the House-

122 The Prince and the Pauper

hold 9 the Constable of the Tower , Norroy King-at-
ArmSy the Master of the Wardrobe, the Chancellor
Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, the Third Groom
of the Stole, the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest,
the Second Gentleman of the Bedchamber, the First
Lord of the Buckhounds, — accompanied always
with that amazed and frightened * * See ! see ! ' ' — till
they finally reached the hands of the Chief Equerry
in Waiting, who gazed a moment, with a pallid face,
upon what had caused all this dismay, then hoarsely
whispered, **Body of my life, a tag gone from a
truss point I — to the Tower with the Head Keeper
of the King's Hose!" — after which he leaned upon
the shoulder of the First Lord of the Buckhounds to
re-gather his vanished strength while fresh hose,
without any damaged strings to them, were brought.
But all things must have an end, and so in time
Tom Canty was in a condition to get out of bed.
The proper official poured water, the proper official
engineered the washing, the proper official stood by
with a towel, and by and by Tom got safely through
the purifying stage and was ready for the services of
the Hairdresser-royal. When he at length emerged
from his master's hands, he was a gracious figure
and as pretty as a girl, in his mantle and trunks of
purple satin, and purple-plumed cap. He now
moved in state toward his breakfast room, through
the midst of the courtly assemblage; and as he
passed, these fell back, leaving his way free, and
dropped upon their knees.

The Prince and the Pauper 123

After breakfast he was conducted, with regal
ceremony, attended by his great officers and his
guard of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners bearing gilt
battle-axes, to the throne-room, where he proceeded
to transact business of state. His ** uncle," Lord
Hertford, took his stand by the throne, to assist the
royal mind with wise counsel.

The body of illustrious men named by the late
king as his executors, appeared, to ask Tom's ap
proval of certain acts of theirs — rather a form, and
yet not wholly a form, since there was no Protector
as yet. The Archbishop of Canterbury made report
of the degree of the Council of Executors concern-
ing the obsequies of his late most illustrious majesty,
and finished by reading the signatures of the execu-
tors, to wit: the Archbishop of Canterbury; the
Lord Chancellor of England; William Lord St.
John; John Lord Russell; Edward Earl of Hert-
ford; John Viscount Lisle; Cuthbert Bishop of
Durham —

Tom was not listening — an earlier clause of the
document was puzzling him. At this point he turned
and whispered to Lord Hertford :

* ' What day did he say the burial hath been ap*-
pointed for?"

The 1 6th of the coming month, my liege,"
Tis a strange folly. Will he keep?"

Poor chap, he was still new to the customs of
royalty ; he was used to seeing the forlorn dead of
Offal Court hustled out of the way with a very

<«

44 I'

124 The Prince and the Pauper

different sort of expedition. However, the Lord
Hertford set his mind at rest with a word or two.

A secretary of state presented an order of the
Council appointing the morrow at eleven for the re-
ception of the foreign ambassadors, and desired the
king's assent.

Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford,
who whispered :

** Your majesty will signify consent. They come
to testify their royal masters* sense of the heavy
calamity which hath visited your grace and the realm
of England.*'

Tom did as he was bidden. Another secretary
began to read a preamble concerning the expenses
of the late king's household, which had amounted to
;f 2 8, GOO during the preceding six months — a sum
so vast that it made Tom Canty gasp ; he gasped
again when the fact appeared that ;^20,ooo of this
money were still owing and unpaid;* and once more
when it appeared that the king's coffers were about
empty, and his twelve hundred servants much em-
barrassed for lack of the wages due them. Tom
spoke out, with lively apprehension.

•• We be going to the dogs, *tis plain. *Tis meet
and necessary that we take a smaller house and set
the servants at large, sith they be of no value but to
make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass
the spirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming
any but a doll, that hath nor brains nor hands to

* Hume.

The Prince and the Pauper 125

help itself withal. I remember me of a small house
that standeth over against the fish-market, by Bill-
ingsgate — '*

A sharp pressure upon Tom's arm stopped his
foolish tongue and sent a blush to his face ; but no
countenance there betrayed any sign that this strange
speech had been remarked or given concern.

A secretary made report that forasmuch as the
late king had provided in his will for conferring the
ducal degree upon the iEarl of Hertford and raising
his brother. Sir Thomas Seymour, to the peerage,
and likewise Hertford's son to an earldom, together
with similar aggrandizements to other great servants
of the crown, the Council had resolved to hold a
sitting on the i6th of February for the delivering
and confirming of these honors ; and that meantime
the late king not having granted, in writing, estates
suitable to the support of these dignities, the
council, knowing his private wishes in that regard,
had thought proper to grant to Seymour ** 500
pound lands," and to Hertford's son ** 800 pound
lands, and 300 pound of the next bishop's lands
which should fall vacant," — his present majesty
being willing.*

Tom was about to blurt out something about the
propriety of paying the late king's debts first before
squandering all this money; but a timely touch
upon his arm, from the thoughtful Hertford, saved
him this indiscretion; wherefore he gave the royal

*Hiiaie.
9

126 The Prince and the Pauper

assent, without spoken comment, but with much in-
ward discomfort. While he sat reflecting a moment
over the ease with which he was doing strange and
glittering miracles, a happy thought shot into his
mind : why not make his mother Duchess of Offal
Court and give her an estate? But a sorrowful
thought swept it instantly away ; he was only a king
in name, these grave veterans and great nobles were
his masters ; to them his mother was only the crea-
ture of a diseased mind ; they would simply listen to
his project with unbelieving ears, then send for the
doctor.

The dull work went tediously on. Petitions weie
read, and proclamations, patents, and all manner of
wordy, repetitious, and wearisome papers relating to
the public business ; and at last Tom sighed pathetic-
ally and murmured to himself, ** In what have I
offended, that the good God should take me away
from the fields and the free air and the sunshine, to
shut me up here and make me a king and afllict me
so?" Then his poor muddled head nodded a while,
and presently dropped to his shoulder; and the
business of the empire came to a standstill for want
of that august factor, the ratifying power. Silence
ensued around the slumbering child, and the sages
of the realm ceased from their deliberations.

During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoyable hour,
by permission of his keepers, Hertford and St.
John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the little Lady
Jane Grey ; though the spirits of the princesses were

The Prince and the Pauper 127

rather subdued by the mighty stroke that had fallen
upon the royal house ; and at the end of the visit
his •* elder sister " — afterward the ** Bloody Mary **
of history — chilled him with a solemn interview
which had but one merit in his eyes, its brevity*.
He had a few moments to himself, and then a slim
lad of about twelve years of age was admitted to his
presence, whose clothing, except his snowy rulBF and
the laces about his wrists, was of black, — doublet,
hose and all. He bore no badge of mourning but a
knot of purple ribbon on his shoulder. He ad-
vanced hesitatingly, with head bowed and bare, and
dropped upon one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat
still and contemplated him soberly for a moment.
Then he said :

••Rise, lad. Who art thou? What wouldst have?"

The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with
an aspect of concern in his face. He said :

• • Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord.
I am thy whipping-boy."

'* My whipping-hoy 7**

"The same, your grace. I am Humphrey —
Humphrey Marlow."

Tom perceived that here was some one whom his
keepers ought to have posted him about. The
situation was delicate. What should he do? — pre-
tend he knew this lad, and then betray, by his every
utterance, that he had never heard of him before?
No, that would not do. An idea came to his relief:
accidents like this might be likely to happen with

128 The Prince and the Pauper

some frequency, now that business urgencies would
often call Hertford and St. John from his side, they
being members of the council of executors ; there-
fore perhaps it would be well to strike out a plan
himself to meet the requirements of such emergen-
cies. Yes, that would be a wise course — he would
practice on this boy, and see what sort of success he
might achieve. So he stroked his brow, perplexedly,
a moment or two, and presently said :

** Now I seem to remember thee somewhat — but
my wit is clogged and dim with suffering — "

** Alack, my poor master!" ejaculated the whip-
ping-boy, with feeling; adding, to himself, •*In
truth 'tis as they said — his mind is gone — alas,
poor soul! But misfortune catch me, how am I
forgetting ! they said one must not seem to observe
that aught is wrong with him."

** 'Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with
me these days," said Tom. ** But mind at not — I
mend apace — a little clew doth often serve to bring
me back again the things and names which had
escaped me. [And not they, only, forsooth, but
e'en such as I ne'er heard before — as this lad shall
see.] Give thy business speech."

** 'Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I
touch upon it, an' it please your grace. Two days
gone by, when your majesty faulted thrice in your
Greek — in the morning lessons, — dost remember
it?"

* Y-e-s — methinks I do. [It is not much of a

The Prince and the Pauper 129

lie — an' I had meddled with the Greek at all, I had
not faulted simply thrice, but forty times.] Yes, I
do recall it now — go on."

— * * The master, being wroth with what he termed
such slovenly and doltish work, did promise that he
would soundly whip me for it — and — "

**Whip tAee /'* said Tom, astonished out of his
presence of mind. •'Why should he whip (Aee for
faults of mine?"

•* Ah, your grace forgetteth again. He always
scourgeth me, when thou dost fail in thy lessons."

**True, true — I had forgot. Thou teachest me
in private — then if I fail, he argueth that thy office
was lamely done, and — "

•'Oh, my liege, what words are these? I, the
humblest of thy servants, presume to teach (kee f**

" Then where is thy blame? What riddle is this?
Am I in truth gone mad, or is it thou? Explain —
speak out."

**But, good your majesty, there's nought that
needeth simplifying. None may visit the sacred
person of the Prince of Wales with blows ; where-
fore when he faulteth, 'tis I that take them; and
meet it is and right, for that it is mine office and my
livelihood.*

Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to him-
self, ** Lo, it is a wonderful thing, — a most strange
and curious trade ; I marvel they have not hired a
boy to take my combings and my dressings for me

* See Note 8, at end of volmne.
9

130 The Prince and the Pauper

— would heaven they would ! — an' they will do this
thing, I will take my lashings in mine own person,
giving God thanks for the change." Then he said
aloud:

** And hast thou been beaten, poor friend, accord-
ing to the promise?'*

** No, good your majesty, my punishment was
appointed for this day, and peradventure it may be
annulled, as unbefitting the season of mourning
that is come upon us; I know not, and so have
made bold to come hither and remind your grace
about your gracious promise to intercede in my
behalf—"

With the master? To save thee thy whipping?"
Ah, thou dost remember!"
My memory mendeth, thou seest. Set thy
mind at ease — thy back shall go unscathed — I will
see to it."

** Oh, thanks, my good lord!" cried the boy,
dropping upon his knee again. *' Mayhap I have
ventured far enow; and yet "

Seeing Master Humphrey hesitate, Tom encour-
aged him to go on, saying he was ** in the granting
mood."

**Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my
heart. Sith thou are no more Prince of Wales but
king, thou canst order matters as thou wilt, with
none to say thee nay ; wherefore it is not in reason
that thou wilt longer vex thyself with dreary studies,
but wilt burn thy books and turn thy mind to things

41

The Prince and the Pauper 131

less irksome. Then am I ruined, and mine orphan
sisters with met'*

Ruined? Prithee, how?"
My back is my bread, O my gracious liege ! if
it go idle, I starve. An* thou cease from study,
mine office is gone, thou'lt need no whipping-boy.
Do not turn me away!'*

Tom was touched with this pathetic distress. He
said, with a right royal burst of generosity:

** Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine
office shall be permanent in thee and thy line, for-
ever." Then he struck the boy a light blow on the
shoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming,
*• Rise, Humphrey Marlow, Hereditary Grand Whip-
ping-Boy to the ro3ral house of England I Banish
sorrow — I will betake me to my books again, and
study so ill that they must in justice treble thy wage,
so mightily shall the business of thine office be aug-
mented."

The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly:

** Thanks, oh, most noble master, this princely
lavishness doth far surpass my most distempered
dreams of fortune. Now shall I be happy all my
days, and all the house of Marlow after me."

Tom had wit enough to perceive that here was a

lad who could be useful to him. He encouraged

Humphrey to talk, and he was nothing loath. He

was delighted to believe that he was helping in

Tom's •'cure"; for always, as soon as he had

finished calling back to Tom's diseased mind the
I

132 The Prince and the Pauper

various particulars of his experiences and adventures
in the royal schoolroom and elsewhere about the
palace, he noticed that Tom was then able to '* re-
call" the circumstances quite clearly. At the end
of an hour Tom found himself well freighted with
very valuable information concerning personages and
matters pertaining to the court; so he resolved to
draw instruction from this source daily ; and to this
end he would give order to admit Humphrey to the
royal closet whenever he might come, provided the
majesty of England was not engaged with other
people.

Humphrey had hardly been dismissed when my
Lord Hertford arrived with more trouble for Tom.
He said that the lords of the Council, fearing that
some overwrought report of the king's damaged
health might have leaked out and got abroad, they
deemed it wise and best that his majesty should
begin to dine in public after a day or two — his
wholesome complexion and vigorous step, assisted
by a carefully guarded repose of manner and ease
and grace of demeanor, would more surely quiet the
general pulse — in case any evil rumors had gone
about — than any other scheme that could be devised.

Then the earl proceeded, very delicately, to in-
struct Tom as to the observances proper to the stately
occasion, under the rather thin disguise of '* remind-
ing" him concerning things already known to him;
but to his vast gratification it turned out that Tom
needed very little help in this line — he had been

The Prince and the Pauper 133

making use of Humphrey in that direction, for
Humphrey had mentioned tha.t within a few days he
was to begin to dine in public ; having gathered it
from the swift-winged gossip of the court, Tom
kept these facts to himself, however.

Seeing the royal memory so improved, the earl
ventured to apply a few tests to it, in an apparently
casual way, to find out how far its amendment had
progressed. The results were happy, here and there,
in spots — spots where Humphrey's tracks remained
— and, on the whole, my lord was greatly pleased
and encouraged. So encouraged was he, indeed,
that he spoke up and Said in a quite hopeful voice :

**Now ami persuaded that if your majesty will
but tax your memory yet a little further, it will re-
solve the puzzle of the Great Seal — a loss which
was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day,
since its term of service ended with our late lord's
life. May it please your grace to make the trial?"

Tom was at sea — a Great Seal was a something
which he was totally unacquainted with. After a
moment's hesitation he looked up innocently and
asked:

•• What was it like, my Lx)rd?''

The earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering
to himself, ** Alack, his wits are flown again! — it
was ill wisdom to lead him on to strain them ' ' —
then he deftly turned the talk to other matters, with
the purpose of sweeping the unlucky Seal out of
Tom's thoughts — a purpose which easily succeeded.

CHAPTER XV.

TOM AS KING

'THE next day the foreign ambassadors came, with
■ their gorgeous trains; and Tom, throned in
awful state, received them. The splendors of the
scene delighted his eye and fired his imagination at
first, but the audience was long and dreary, and so
were most of the addresses — wherefore, what began
as a pleasure, grew into weariness and homesickness
by and by, Tom said the words which Hertford
put into his mouth from time to time, and tried
hard to acquit himself satisfactorily, but he was too
new to such things, and too ill at ease to accomplish
more than a tolerable success. He looked suffi-
ciently like a king, but he was ill able to feel like
one. He was cordially glad when the ceremony was
ended.

The larger part of his day was ** wasted " — as he
termed it, in his own mind — in labors pertaining to
his royal office. Even the two hours devoted to
certain princely pastimes and recreations were rather
a burden to him than otherwise, they were so fet-
tered by restrictions and ceremonious observances.

(134)

The Prince and the Pauper 13 5

However, he had a private hour with his whipping-
boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both
entertainment and needful information out of it.

The third day of Tom Canty' s kingship came and
went much as the others had done, but there was a
lifting of his cloud in one way — he felt less uncom-
fortable than at first ; he was getting a little used to
his circumstances and surroundings ; his chains still
galled, but not all the time; he found that the
presence and homage of the great afflicted and em-
barrassed him less and less sharply with every hour
that drifted over his head.

But for one single dread, he could have seen the
fourth day approach without serious distress — the
dining in public ; it was to begin that day. There
were greater matters in the programme — for on that
day he would have to preside at a Council which
would take his views and commands concerning the
policy to be pursued toward various foreign nations
scattered far and near over the great globe ; on that
day, too, Hertford would be formally chosen to the
grand office of Lord Protector ; other things of note
were appointed for that fourth day also, but to Tom
they were all insignificant compared with the ordeal
of dining all by himself with a multitude of curious
eyes fastened upon him and a multitude of mouths
whispering comments upon his performance, — and
upon his mistakes, if he should be so unlucky as to
make any.

Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so

136 The Prince and the Pauper

it came. It found poor Tom low-spirited and ab-
sent-minded, and this mood continued ; he could not
shake it o£f« The ordinary duties of the morning
dragged upon his hands, and wearied him. Once
more he felt the sense of captivity heavy upon him.

Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience
chamber, conversing with the Earl of Hertford and
duly awaiting the striking of the hour appointed for
a visit of ceremony from a considerable number of
great officials and courtiers.

After a little while Tom, who had wandered to a
window and become interested in the life and move-
ment of the great highway beyond the palace gates

— and not idly interested, but longing with all his
heart to take part in person in its stir and freedom

— saw the van of a hooting and shouting mob of
disorderly men, women, and children of the lowest
and poorest degree approaching from up the road.

'• I would I knew what 'tis about !" he exclaimed,
with all a boy's curiosity in such happenings.

"Thou art the king!" solemnly responded the
earl, with a reverence. ** Have I your grace's leave
to act?"

*' Oh, blithely, yes ! Oh, gladly, yes !" exclaimed
Tom, excitedly, adding to himself with a lively sense
of satisfaction, " In truth, being a king is not all
dreariness — it hath its compensations and con-

veniences."

The earl called a page, and sent him to the cap-
tain of the guard with the order :

The Prince and the Pauper 137

** Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made con-
cerning the occasion of its movement. By the
king's command I"

A few seconds later a long rank of the royal
guards, cased in flashing steel, filed out at the gates
and formed across the highway in front of the
multitude. A messenger returned, to report that
the crowd were following a man, a woman, and a
young girl to execution for crimes committed against
the peace and dignity of the realm.

Death — and a violent death — for these poor un-
fortunates ! The thought wrung Tom's heartstrings.
The spirit of compassion took control of him, to the
exclusion of all other considerations; he never
thought of the offended laws, or of the grief or loss
which these three criminals had inflicted upon their
victims, he could think of nothing but the scaffold
and the grisly fate hanging over the heads of the
condemned. His concern made him even forget,
for the moment, that he was but the false shadow of
a king, not the substance ; and before he knew it he
had blurted out the command :

** Bring them here !"

Then he blushed scarlet, and a sort of apology
sprung to his lips ; but observing that his order had
wrought no sort of surprise in the earl or the waiting
page, he suppressed the words he was about to
utter. The page, in the most matter-of-course way,
made a profound obeisance and retired backward
out of the room to deliver the command. Tom

1)8 The Prince and the Pauper

experienced a glow of pride and a renewed sense of
the compensating advantages of the kingly office.
He said to himself, "Truly it is like what I used to
feel when I read the old priest's tales, and did im-
agine mine own self a prince, giving law and com-
mand to all, saying, * Do this, do that,' while none
durst offer let or hindrance to my will."

Now the doors swung open; one high-sounding
title after another was announced, the personages
owning them followed, and the place was quickly
half filled with noble folk and finery. But Tom was
hardly conscious of the presence of these people, so
wrought up was he and so intensely absorbed in
that other and more interesting matter. He seated
himself, absently, in his chair of state, and turned
his eyes upon the door with manifestations of im-
patient expectancy ; seeing which, the company for*
bore to trouble him, and fell to chatting a mixture
of public business and court gossip one with
another.

In a little while the measured tread of military
men was heard approaching, and the culprits entered
the presence in charge of an under-sheriff and es-
corted by a detail of the king's guard. The civil
officer knelt before Tom, then stood aside ; the three
doomed persons knelt also, and remained so; the
guard took position behind Tom's chair. Tom
scanned the prisoners curiously. Something about
the dress or appearance of the man had stirred a
vague memory in him. ** Methinks I have seen this

The Prince and the Pauper 1)9

man ere now but the when or the where fail

me" — such was Tom's thought. Just then the man
glanced quickly up, and quickly dropped his face
again, not being able to endure the awful port of
sovereignty ; but the one full glimpse of the face,
which Tom got, was sufficient. He said to himself :
** Now is the matter clear; this is the stranger that
plucked Giles Witt out of the Thames, and saved
his life that windy, bitter first day of the New Year
— a brave, good deed — pity he hath been doing

baser ones and got himself in this sad case I

have not forgot the day, neither the hour; by reason
that an hour after, upon the stroke of eleven, I did
get a hiding by the hand of Gammer Canty which
was of so goodly and admired severity that all that
went before or followed after it were but fondlings
and caresses by comparison."

Tom now ordered that the woman and the girl be
removed from the presence for a little time ; then
addressed himself to the under-sheriff, saying:

•* Good sir, what is this man's oiffense?'*

The officer knelt, and answered :

" So please your majesty, he hath taken the life
of a subject by poison."

Tom's compassion for the prisoner, and admira^
tion of him as the daring rescuer of a drowning boy,
experienced a most damaging shock.

The thing was proven upon him?" he asked.
Most clearly, sire."

Tom sighed, and said:

«l

140 The Prince and the Pauper

"Take him away — he hath earned his death.
'Tis a pity, for he was a brave heart — na — na, I
mean he hath the look of it !"

The prisoner clasped his hands together with sud-
den energy, and wrung them despairingly, at the
same time appealing imploringly to the **king" in
broken and terrified phrases :

** Oh, my lord the king, an' thou canst pity the
lost, have pity upon me! I am innocent — neither
hath that wherewith I am charged been more than
but lamely proved — yet I speak not of that; the
judgment is gone forth against me and may not
suffer alteration; yet in mine extremity I beg a
boon, for my doom is more than I can bear. A
grace, a grace, my lord the king ! in thy royal com-
passion grant my prayer — give commandment that
I be hanged!"

Tom was amazed. This was not the outcome he
had looked for.

•• Odds my life, a strange boon I Was it not the
fate intended thee?"

•* Oh, good my liege, not so! It is ordered that
I be boiled alive /* '

The hideous surprise of these words almost made
Tom spring from his chair. As soon as he could
recover his wits he cried out :

"Have thy wish, poor soul! an' thou had pois-
oned a hundred men thou shouldst not sulGfer so
miserable a death."

The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and

The Prince and the Pauper 141

burst into passionate expressions of gratitude — end-
ing with :

** If ever thou shouldst know misfortune — which
God forbid ! — may thy goodness to me this day be
remembered and requited ! ' '

Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford, and said :

** My lord, is it believable that there was warrant
for this man's ferocious doom?"

**It is the law, your grace — for poisoners. In
Germany coiners be boiled to death in oil — not cast
in of a sudden, but by a rope let down into the oil
by degrees, and slowly ; first the feet, then the legs,
then—"

**Oh, prithee, no more, my lord, I cannot bear
it!" cried Tom, covering his eyes with his hands to
shut out the picture. ** I beseech your good lord-
ship that order be taken to change this law — oh,
let no more poor creatures be visited with its tor-
tures."

The earl's face showed profound gratification, for
he was a man of merciful and generous impulses — a
thing not very common with his class in that fierce
age. He said :

"These your grace's noble words have sealed its
doom. History will remember it to the honor of
your royal house."

The under-sheriff was about to remove his
prisoaer; Tom gave him a sign to wait; then he
said:

Good sir, I would look into this matter further.

« i

xo

142 The Prince and the Pauper

The man has said his deed was but lamely proved.
Tell me what thou knowest."

"If the king's grace please, it did appear upon
the trial, that this man entered into a house in the
hamlet of Islington where one lay sick — three wit-
nesses say it was at ten of the clock in the morning
and two say it was some minutes later — the sick
man being alone at the time, and sleeping — and
presently the man came forth again, and went his
way. The sick man died within the hour, being
torn with spasm and retchings."

"Did any see the poison given? Was poison
found?"

Marry, no, my liege."

Then how doth one know there was poison
given at all?"

"Please your majesty, the doctors testified that
none die with such symptoms but by poison."

Weighty evidence, this — in that simple age. Tom
recognized its formidable nature, and said :

"The doctor knoweth his trade — belike they
were right. The matter hath an ill look for this
poor man."

"Yet was not this all, your majesty; there is
more and worse. Many testified that a witch, since
gone from the village, none know whither, did fore-
tell, and speak it privately in their ears, that the
sick man would die by poison — and more, that a
stranger would give it — a stranger with brown hair
and clothed in a worn and common garb ; and surely

• «

• «

The Prince and the Pauper 143

this prisoner doth answer woundily to the bill . Please ,
your majesty, to give the circumstance that solemn
weight which is its due, seeing it vf^s foretold."

This was an argument of tremendous force, in
that superstitious day. Tom felt that the thing was
settled ; if evidence was worth an)^hing, this poor
fellow's guilt was proved. Still he offered the pris-
oner a chance, saying :

•• If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, speak."

** Nought thet will avafl, my king. I am inno-
cent, yet cannot I make it appear. I have no
friends, else might I show that I was not in Islington
that day ; so also might I show that at that hour
they name I was above a league away, seeing I was
at Wapping Old Stairs; yea more, my king, for I
could show, that while they say I was taking life, I
was saving it. A drowning boy — * '

''Peace! SherijGf, name the day the deed was
done!"

"At ten in the -morning, or some minutes later,
the first day of the new year, most illustrious — "

"Let the prisoner go free — it is the king's
will!"

Another blush followed this unregal outburst, and
he covered his indecorum as well as h^ could by
adding :

"It enrageth me that a man should be hanged
upon such idle, hare-brained evidence!"

A low buzz of admiration swept through the
assemblage. It was not admiration of the decree

144 The Prince and the Pauper

that had been delivered by Tom, for the propriety
or expediency of pardoning a convicted poisoner
was a thing which few there would have felt justified
in either admitting or admiring — no, the admiration
was for the intelligence and spirit which Tom had
displayed. Some of the low- voiced remarks were
to this effect :

** This is no mad king — he hath his wits sound."

* * How sanely he put his questions — how like his
former natural self was this abrupt, imperious dis-
posal of the matter ! "

** God be thanked his infirmity is spent! This is
no weakling, but a king. He hath borne himself
like to his own father."

The air being filled with applause, Tom's ear
necessarily caught a little of it. The effect which
this had upon him was to put him greatly at his
ease, and also to charge his system with very gratify-
ing sensations.

However, his juvenile curiosity soon rose superior
to these pleasant thoughts and feelings; he was
eager to know what sort of deadly mischief the
woman and the little girl could have been about; so,
by his command the two terrified and sobbing crea-
tures were brought before him.

** What is it that these have done?" he inquired
of the sheriff.

"Please, your majesty, a black crime is charged
upon them, and clearly proven ; wherefore the judges
have decreed, according to the law, that they be

The Prince and the Pauper 145

hanged. They sold themselves to the devil — such
is their crime."

Tom shuddered. He had been taught to abhor
people who did this wicked thing. Still, he was not
going to deny himself the pleasure of feeding his
curiosity, for all that ; so he asked :

** Where was this done? — and when?"

**On a midnight, in December — in a ruined
church, your majesty."

Tom shuddered again.

** Who was there present?"

** Only these two, your grace — and that other.**

•• Have these confessed?"

'* Nay, not so, sire — they do deny it."
Then, prithee, how was it known?"
Certain witnesses did see them wending thither,
good your majesty; this bred the suspicion, and
dire effects have since confirmed and justified it. In
particular, it is in evidence that through the wicked
power so obtained, they did invoke and bring about
a storm that wasted all the region round about.
Above forty witnesses have proved the storm ; and
sooth one might have had a thousand, for all had
reason to remember it, sith all had suffered by it."

**Certes this is a serious matter." Tom turned
this dark piece of scoundrelism over in his mind a
while, then asked:

** Suffered the woman, also, by the storm?"

Several old heads among the assemblage nodded

their recognition of the wisdom of this question.
10

«<

146 The Prince and the Pauper

The sheriff, however, saw nothing consequential in
the inquiry; he answered » with simple directness:

** Indeed, did she, your majesty, and most right-
eously, as all aver. Her habitation was swept away,
and herself and child left shelterless."

* * Methinks the power to do herself so ill a turn
was dearly bought. She had been cheated, had she
paid but a farthing for it; that she paid her soul,
and her child's, argueth that she is mad; if she is
mad she knoweth not what she doth, therefore
sinneth not."

The elderly heads nodded recognition of Tom's
wisdom once more, and one individual murmured,
** An' the king be mad himself, according to report,
then is it a madness of a sort that would improve
the sanity of some I wot of, if by the gentle provi-
dence of God they could but catch it."

•• What age hath the child?" asked Tom.
Nine years, please your majesty."
By the law of England may a child enter into
covenant and sell itself, my lord?" asked Tom,
turning to a learned judge.

••The law doth not permit a child to make or
meddle in any weighty matter, good my liege, hold-
ing that its callow wit unfitteth it to cope with the
riper wit and evil schemings of them that are its
elders. The devil may buy a child, if he so choose,
and the child agree thereto, but not an Englishman
— in this latter case the contract would be null and
void."

• «

The Prince and the Pauper 147

*' It seemeth a rude unchristian thing, and ill con-
trived, that English law denieth privileges to English-
men, to waste them on the devil!" cried Tom, with
honest heat.

This novel view of the matter excited many smiles,
and was stored away in many heads to be repeated
about the court as evidence of Tom's originality as
well as progress toward mental health.

The elder culprit had ceased from sobbing, and
was hanging upon Tom's words with an excited
interest and a growing hope. Tom noticed this,
and it strongly inclined his sympathies toward her
in her perilous and unfriended situation. Presently
he asked :

*• How wrought they, to bring the storm?"

•• By pulling off their stockings y sire."

This astonished Tom, and also fired his curiosity
to fever heat. He said, eagerly:

• * It is wonderful ! Hath it always this dread
effect?"

** Always, my liege — at least if the woman desire
it, and utter the needful words, either in her mind
or with her tongue."

Tom turned to the woman, and said with impetu-
ous zeal:

•* Exert thy power — I would see a storm 1"

There was a sudden paling of cheeks in the super-
stitious assemblage, and a general, though unex-
pressed, desire to get out of the place — all of which
was lost upon Tom, who was dead to everything but

148 Tbe Prince and the Pauper

the proposed cataclysm. Seeing a puzzled and
astonished look in the woman's face, he added, ex-
citedly :

•* Never fear — thou shalt be blameless. More —
thou shalt go free — none shall touch thee. Exert
thy power."

**0, my lord the king, I have it not — I have
been falsely accused.**

**Thy fears stay thee. Be of good heart, thou
shalt suffer no harm. Make a storm — it mattereth
not how small a one — I require nought great or
harmful, but indeed prefer the opposite — do this
and thy life is spared — thou shalt go out free, with
thy child, bearing the king's pardon, and safe from
hurt or malice from any in the realm."

The woman prostrated herself, and protested, with
tears, that she had no power to do the miracle, else
she would gladly win her child's life alone, and be
content to lose her own, if by obedience to the
king's command so precious a grace might be ac-
quired.

Tom urged — the woman still adhered to her
declarations. Finally, he said:

**I think the woman hath said true. An* my
mother were in her place and gifted with the devil's
functions, she had not stayed a moment to call her
storms and lay the whole land in ruins, if the saving
of my forfeit life were the price she got! It is
argument that other mothers are made in like
mould. Thou art free, good wife — thou and thy

The Prince and the Pauper 149

child — for I do think thee innocent. Now thou'st
nought to fear, being pardoned — pull off thy stock-
ings ! — an* thou canst make me a storm, thou shalt
be rich!"

The redeemed creature was loud in her gratitude,
and proceeded to obey, while Tom looked on with
eager expectancy, a little marred by apprehension ;
the courtiers at the same time manifesting decided
discomfort and uneasiness. The woman stripped
her own feet and her little girl's also, and plainly
did her best to reward the king's generosity with an
earthquake, but it was all a failure and a disap-
pointment. Tom sighed, and said :

"There, good soul, trouble thyself no further,
thy power is departed out of thee. Go thy way in
peace ; and if it return to thee at any time, forget
me not, but fetch me a storm."*

* See Notes to Chapter 15 at the end of the vQlnme.

CHAPTER XVL

THE STATE DINNER

THE dinner hour drew near — yet, strangely
enough, the thought brought but slight dis-
comfort to Tom, and hardly any terror. The morn-
ing's experiences had wonderfully built up his
confidence ; the poor little ash-cat was already more
wonted to his strange garret, after four days' habit,
than a mature person could have become in a full
month. A child's facility in accommodating itself
to circumstances was never more strikingly illus-
trated.

Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banquet-
ing room and have a glance at matters there while
Tom IS being made ready for the imposing occa-
sion. It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars
and pilasters, and pictured walls and ceilings. At
the door stand tall guards, as rigid as statues,
dressed in rich and picturesque costumes, and bear-
ing halberds. In a high gallery which runs all
around the place is a band of musicians and a
packed company of citizens of both sexes, in bril-
liant attire. In the center of the room, upon a

(150)

The Prince and the Pauper 151

raised platform, is Tom's table. Now let the
ancient chronicler speak :

**A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod,
and along with him another bearing a tablecloth,
which, after they have both kneeled three times with
the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table,
and after kneeling again they both retire ; then come
two others, one with the rod again, the other with a
saltcellar, a plate, and bread; when they have
kneeled as the others had done, and placed what
was brought upon the table, they too retire with the
same ceremonies performed by the first; at last
come two nobles, richly clothed, one bearing a
tasting-knife, who, after prostrating themselves in
the most graceful manner, approach and rub the
table with bread and salt, with as much awe as if
the king had been present.'**

So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down
the echoing corridors we hear a bugle-blast, and the
indistinct cry, •'Place for the king! way for the
king's most excellent majesty!" These sounds are
momently repeated — they grow nearer and nearer
— and presently, almost in our faces, the martial
note peals and the cry rings out, **Way for the
king!" At this instant the shining pageant appears,
and files in at the door, with a measured march.
Let the chronicler speak again :

** First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of

* Leigh Hunt's <*The Town," p. 408, quotation from an early
tourist.

152 The Prince and the Pauper

the Garter, all richly dressed and bareheaded ; next
comes the Chancellor, between two, one of which
carries the royal scepter, the other the Sword of
State in a red scabbard, studded with golden fleur-
de-lis, the point upwards ; next comes the King him-
self—whom, upon his appearing, twelve trumpets
and many drums salute with a great burst of wel-
come, whilst all in the galleries rise in their places,
crying * God save the King ! ' After him come
nobles attached to his person, and on his right and
left march his guard of honor, his fifty Gentlemen
Pensioners, with gilt battle-axes."

This was all fine and pleasant. Tom's pulse beat
high and a glad light was in his eye. He bore him-
self right gracefully, and all the more so because he
was not thinking of how he was doing it, his mind
being charmed and occupied with the blithe sights
and sounds about him — and besides, nobody can
be very ungraceful in nicely-fitting beautiful clothes
after he has grown a little used to them — especially
if he is for the moment unconscious of them. Tom
remembered his instructions, and acknowledged his
greeting with a slight inclination of his plumed head,
and a courteous ** I thank ye, my good people."

He seated himself at table without removing his
cap; and did it without the least embarrassment:
for to eat with one's cap on was the one solitary
royal custom upon which the kings and the Cantys
met upon common ground, neither party having any
advantage over the other in the matter of old

The Prince and the Pauper 153

familiarity with it. The pageant broke up and
grouped itself picturesquely, and remained bare-
headed.

Now, to the sound of gay music, the Yeomen of
the Guard entered, — ** the tallest and mightiest men
in England, they being selected in this regard" —
but we will let the chronicler tell about it :

* ' The Yeomen of the Guard entered bareheaded,
clothed in scarlet, with golden roses upon their
backs ; and these went and came, bringing in each
turn a course of dishes, served in plate. These
dishes were received by a gentleman in the same
order they were brought, and placed upon the table,
while the taster gave to each guard a mouthful to
eat of the particular dish he had brought, for fear
of any poison."

Tom made a good dinner, notwithstanding he was
conscious that hundreds of eyes followed each mor-
sel to his mouth and watched him eat it with an
interest which could not have been more intense if
it had been a deadly explosive and was expected to
blow him up and scatter him all over the place. He
was careful not to hurry, and equally careful not to
do anything whatever for himself, but wait till the
proper official knelt down and did it for him. He
got through without a mistake — flawless and
precious triumph.

When the meal was over at last and he marched
away in the midst of his bright pageant, with the
happy noises in his ears of blaring bugles, rolling

1S4 The Prince and the Pauper

drums, and thundering acclamations, he telt that if
he had seen the worst of dining in public, it was an
ordeal which he would be glad to endure several
times a day if by that means he could but buy him-
self free from some of the more formidable require-
ments of his royal office.

CHAPTER XVII.

FOO-FOO THE FIRST

MILES HENDON hurried along toward the
Southwark end of the bridge, keeping a sharp
lookout for the persons he sought, and hoping and
expecting to overtake them presently. He was dis-
appointed in this, however. By asking questions,
he was enabled to track them part of the way
through Southwark; then all traces ceased, and he
was perplexed as to how to proceed. Still, he con-
tinued his efforts as best he could during the rest
of the day. Nightfall found him leg-weary, half
famished, and his desire as far from accomplishment
as ever; so he supped at the Tabard inn and went
to bed, resolved to make an early start in the morn-
ing, and give the town an exhaustive search. As
he lay thinking and planning, he presently began to
reason thus : The boy would escape from the ruffian,
his reputed father, if possible ; would he go back to
London and seek his former haunts? No, he would
not do that, he would avoid recapture. What, then,
would he do? Never having had a friend in the
world, or a protector, until he met Miles Hendon,

(155)

156 The Prince and the Pauper

he would naturally try to find that friend again»
provided the effort did not require him to go toward
London and danger. He would strike for Hendon
Hall, that is what he would do, for he knew Hendon
was homeward bound, and there he might expect to
find him. Yes, the case was plain to Hendon — he
must lose no more time in Southwark, but move at
once through Kent, toward Monk's Holm, searching
the wood and inquiring as he went. Let us return
to the vanished little king now.

The rufHan, whom the waiter at the inn on the
Bridge saw " about to join ' ' the youth and the king«
did not exactly join them, but fell in close behind
them and followed their steps. He said nothing.
His left arm was in a sling, and he wore a large
green patch over his left eye; he limped slightly,
and used an oaken staff as a support. The youth
led the king a crooked course through Southwark,
and by and by struck into the high road beyond.
The king was irritated now, and said he would stop
here — it was Hendon 's place to come to him, not
his to go to Hendon. He would not endure such
insolence ; he would stop where he was. The youth
said:

•• Thou'lt tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded
in the wood yonder? So be it, then."

The king's manner changed at once. He cried
out:

•• Wounded? And who hath dared to do it? But
that is apart; lead on, lead on I Faster, sirrah! art

The Prince and the Pauper 157

shod with lead? Wounded, is he? Now though the
doer of it be a duke's son, he shall rue it!*'

It was some distance to the wood, but the space
^as speedily traversed. The youth looked about
him, discovered a bough sticking in the ground,
with a small bit of, rag tied to it, then led the way
into the forest, watching for similar boughs and
finding them at intervals ; they were evidently guides
to the point he was aiming at. By and by an open
place was reached, where were the charred remains
of a farmhouse, and near them a barn which was
falling to ruin and decay. There was no sign of
life anywhere, and utter silence prevailed. The
youth entered the barn, the king following eagerly
upon his heels. No one there ! The king shot a
surprised and suspicious glance at the youth, and
asked:

••Where is he?"

A mocking laugh was his answer. The king was
in a rage in a moment ; he seized a billet of wood
aijd was in the act of charging upon the youth when
another mocking laugh fell upon his ear. It was
from the lame ruffian, who had been following at a
distance. The king turned and said angrily :

Who art thou? What is thy business here?"
Leave thy foolery," said the man, •* and quiet
thyself. My disguise is none so good that thou
canst pretend thou knowest not thy father through
it."

••Thou art not my father. I know thee not. I

n

4<

158 The Prince and the Pauper

am the king. If thou hast hid my servant, find him
for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for what thou hast
done."

John Canty replied, in a stern and measured
voice :

"It is plain thou art mad, and I am loth to
punish thee ; but if thou provoke me, I must. Thy
prating doth no harm here, where there are no ears
that need to mind thy follies, yet is it well to prac-
tice thy tongue to wary speech, that it may do no
hurt when our quarters change. I have done a
murder, and may not tarry at home — neither shalt
thou, seeing I need thy service. My name is
changed, for wise reasons; it is Hobbs — John
Hobbs ; thine is Jack — charge thy memory accord-
ingly. Now, then, speak. Where is thy mother?
Where are thy sisters ? They came not to the place
appointed — knowest thou whither they went?"

The king answered, sullenly :

** Trouble me not with these riddles. My mother
is dead; my sisters are in the palace."
^ 'I'he youth near by burst into a derisive laugh,
and the king would have assaulted him, but Canty —
or Hobbs, as he now called himself — prevented
him, and said :

** Peace, Hugo, vex him not; his mind is astray,
and thy ways fret him. Sit thee down. Jack, and
quiet thyself; thou shalt have a morsel to eat,

anon."

Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together^ in low

The Prince and the Pauper 159

voices, and the king removed himself as far as he
could from their disagreeable company. He with-
drew into the twilight of the farther end of the barn,
where he found the earthen floor bedded a foot deep
with straw. He lay down here, drew straw over
himself in lieu of blankets, and was soon absorbed
in thinking. He had many griefs, but the minor
ones were swept almost into forgetfulness by the
supreme one, the loss of his father. To the rest of
the world the name of Henry VHI. brought a shiver,
and suggested an ogre whose nostrils breathed de-
struction and whose hand dealt scourgings and
death ; but to this boy the name brought only sen-
sations of pleasure, the figure it invoked wore a
countenance that was all gentleness and affection.
He called to mind a long succession of loving pas-
sages between his father and himself, and dwelt
fondly upon them, his unstinted tears attesting how
deep and real was the grief that possessed his heart.
As the afternoon wasted away, the lad, wearied with
his troubles, sunk gradually into a tranquil and heal-
ing slumber.

After a considerable time — he could not tell how
long — his senses struggled to a half -consciousness,
and as he lay with closed eyes vaguely wondering
where he was and what had been happening, he
noted a murmurous sound, the sullen beating of rain
upon the roof. A snug sense of comfort stole over
him, which was rudely broken, the next moment,
by a chorus of piping cackles and coarse laughter.

160 The Prince and the Pauper

It startled him disagreeably, and he unmuffled his
head to see whence this interruption proceeded. A
grim and unsightly picture met his eye. A bright
fire was burning in the middle of the floor, at the
other end of the barn ; and around it, and lit weirdly
up by the red glare, lolled and sprawled the motliest
company of tattered gutter-scum and ruffians, of
both sexes, he had ever read or dreamed of. There
were huge, stalwart men, brown with exposure, long-
haired, and clothed in fantastic rags; there were
middle-sized youths, of truculent countenance, and
similarly clad; there were blind mendicants, with
patched or bandaged eyes; crippled ones, with
wooden legs and crutches; there was a villain-
looking peddler with his pack; a knife-grinder, a
tinker, and a barber-surgeon, with the implements
of their trades; some of the females were hardly-
grown girls, some were at prime, some were old and
wrinkled hags, and all were loud, brazen, foul-
mouthed ; and all soiled and slatternly ; there were
three sore-faced babies; there were a couple of
starveling curs, with strings about their necks, whose
office was to lead the blind.

The night was come, the gang had just finished
feasting, an orgy was beginning, the can of liquor
was passing from mouth to mouth. A general cry
broke forth :

•* A song! a song from the Bat and Dick Dot-
and-go-One!"

One of the blind men got up, and made ready by

The Prince and the Pauper 161

casting aside the patches that sheltered his excellent
eyes, and the pathetic placard which recited the
cause of his calamity. Dot-and-go-One disencum-
bered himself of his timber leg and took his place,
upon sound and healthy limbs, beside his fellow-
rascal ; then they roared out a rollicking ditty, and
were re-enforced by the whole crew, at the end of
each stanza, in a rousing chorus. By the time the
last stanza was reached, the half -drunken enthusiasm
had risen to such a pitch, that everybody joined in
and sang it clear through from the beginning, pro-
ducing a volume of villainous sound that made the
rafters quake. These were the inspiring words :

* Bien Darkmans then, Bouse Mort and Ken,
The bien Coves bings awast,
On Chates to trine by Rome Coves dine
For his long lib at last.
Bing'd out bien Morts and toure, and toore,
Bing out of the Rome vile bine,
And toure the Cove that doy'd your duds.
Upon the Chates to trine." *

Conversation followed ; not in the thieves' dialect
of the song, for that was only used in talk when
unfriendly ears might be listening. In the course of
it it appeared that * * John Hobbs ' ' was not alto-
gether a new recruit, but had trained in the gang at
some former time. His later history was called for,
and when he said he had "accidentally'' killed a
man, considerable satisfaction was expressed ; when

• From **The English Rogue *' : London, 1665.
11

162 The Prince and the Pauper

he added that the man was a priest, he was roundly
applauded, and had to take a drink with everybody.
Old acquaintances welcomed him joyously, and new
ones were proud to shake him by the hand. He
was asked why he had *' tarried away so many
months. ' ' He answered :

** London is better than the country, and s^er
these late years, the laws be so bitter and so dili-
gently enforced. An' I had not had that accident,
I had stayed there. I had resolved to stay, and
never more venture country-wards — but the accident
has ended that."

He inquired how many persons the gang num-
bered now. The ** Ruffler," or chief, answered:

"Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, files,
clapperdogeons and maunders, counting the dells
and doxies and other morts.* Most are here, the
rest are wandering eastward, along the winter lay.
We follow at dawn."

* * I do not see the Wen among the honest folk
about me. Where may he be?"

**Poor lad, his diet is brimstone now, and over
hot for a delicate taste. He was killed in a brawl,
somewhere about midsummer. ' *

** I sorrow to hear that; the Wen was a capable
man, and brave."

•*That was he, truly. Black Bess, his dell, is
of us yet, but absent on the eastward tramp ; a

♦ Canting terms for various kinds of thieves, beggars, and vaga-
bonds, and their female companions.

The Prince and the Pauper I63

fine lass, of nice ways and orderly conduct, none
ever seeing her drunk above four days in the
seven."

•* She was ever strict — I remember it well — a
goodly wench and worthy all commendation. Her
mother was more free and less particular ; a trouble-
some and ugly tempered beldame, but furnished
with a wit above the common."

•* We lost her through it. Her gift of palmistry
and other sorts of fortune-telling begot for her at
last a witch's name and fame. The law roasted her
to death at a slow fire. It did touch me to a sort of
tenderness to see the gallant way she met her lot —
cursing and reviling all the crowd that gaped and
gazed around her, whilst the flames licked upward
toward her face and catched her thin locks and
crackled about her old gray head — cursing them,
said I? — cursing them! why an' thou shouldst live
a thousand years thou'dst never hear so masterful a
cursing. Alack, her art died with her. There be
base and weakling imitations left, but no true bias*
phemy."

The Ruffler sighed ; the listeners sighed in sym-
pathy; a general depression fell upon the company
for a moment, for even hardened outcasts like these
are not wholly dead to sentiment, but are able to
feel a fleeting sense of loss and affliction at wide
intervals and under peculiarly favoring circum-
stances — as in cases like to this, for instance, when
genius and culture depart and leave no heir. How"

164 The Prince and the Pauper

ever, a deep drink all round soon restored the spirits
of the mourners.

*• Have any other of our friends fared hardly?"
asked Hobbs.

"Some — yes. Particularly new comers — such '

as small husbandmen turned shiftless and hungry
upon the world because their farms were taken from
them to be changed to sheep ranges. They begged,
and were whipped at the cart's tail, naked from the
girdle up, till the blood ran; then set in the stocks
to be pelted; they begged again, were whipped
again, and deprived of an ear; they begged a third
time — poor devils, what else could they do? — and
were branded on the cheek with a red-hot iron, then j

sold for slaves ; they ran away, were hunted down,
and hanged. 'Tis a brief tale, and quickly told.
Others of us have fared less hardly. Stand forth,
Yokel, Burns, and Hodge — show your adorn-
ments!"

These stood up and stripped away some of their
rags, exposing their backs, criss-crossed with ropy
old welts left by the lash ; one turned up his hair
and showed the place where a left ear had once ,

been; another showed a brand upon his shoulder —
the letter V — and a mutilated ear; the third said :

•* I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with
loving wife and kids — now am I somewhat different
in estate and calling; and the wife and kids are
gone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in — in
the other place — but the kindly God be thanked.

The Prince and the Pauper 165

they bide no more in England! My good old
blameless mother strove to earn bread by nursing
the sick; one of these died, the doctors knew not
how, so my mother was burned for a witch, whilst
my babes looked on and wailed. English law! —
up, all, with your cups! — now altogether and with
a cheer ! — drink to the merciful English law that
delivered her from the English hell! Thank you,
mates, one and all. I begged, from house to house
— I and the wife — bearing with us the hungry
kids — but it was crime to be hungry in England —
so they stripped us and lashed us through three
towns. Drink ye all again to the merciful English
law! — for its lash drank deep of my Mary's blood
and its blessed deliverance came quick. She lies
there, in the potter's field, safe from all harms.
And the kids — well, whilst the law lashed me from
town to town, they starved. Drink lads — only a
drop — a drop to the poor kids, that never did any
creature harm. I begged again — begged for a
crust, and got the stocks and lost an ear — see,
here bides the stump; I begged again, and here is
the stump of the other to keep me minded of it.
And still I begged again, and was sold for a slave —
here on my cheek under this stain, if I washed it
off, ye might see the red S the branding-iron left
there! A slave! Do ye understand that word!
An English slave ! — that is he that stands before
ye. I have run from my master, and when I am
found — the heavy curse of heaven fall on the law

A I

166 The Prince and the Pauper

of the land that hath commanded it I — I shall
hang!''*

A ringing voice came through the murky air :

** Thou shalt not I — and this day the end of that
law is come!'*

All turned, and saw the fantastic figure of the
little king approaching hurriedly ; as it emerged into
the light and was clearly revealed, a general explo-
sion of inquiries broke out :

•* Who is it? What is it? Who art thou, mani-
kin?"

The boy stood unconfused in the midst of all
those surprised and questioning eyes, and answered
with princely dignity :

** I am Edward, king of England."

A wild burst of laughter followed, partly of
derision and partly of delight in the excellence of
the joke. The king was stung. He said sharply:

•• Ye mannerless vagrants, is this your recognition
of the royal boon I have promised?"

He said more, with angry voice and excited
gesture, but it was lost in a whirlwind of laughter
and mocking exclamations. ** John Hobbs" made
several attempts to make himself heard above the
din, and at last succeeded — saying:

** Mates, he is my son, a dreamer, a fool, and stark
mad — mind him not — he thinketh he is the king."

**I am the king," said Edward, turning toward
him, ** as thou shalt know to thy cost, in good time,

* See Note lo, at end of volume.

The Prince and the Pauper 167

Thou hast confessed a murder — thou shalt swing
for It."

^^ Thou' It betray me! — thouf An' I get my
hands upon thee — * '

• • Tut-tut ! ' ' said the burly Ruffler, interposing in
time to save the king, and emphasizing this service
by knocking Hobbs down with his fist, **hast re-
spect for neither kings nor Rufflers? An' thou insult
my presence so again, I'll hang thee up myself."
Then he said to his majesty, '• Thou must make no
threats against thy mates, lad ; and thou must guard
thy tongue from saying evil of them elsewhere. Be
king, if it please thy mad humor, but be not harm-
ful in it. Sink the title thou hast uttered, — 'tis
treason ; we be bad men, in some few trifling ways,
but none among us is so base as to be traitor to his
king; we be loving and loyal hearts, in that regard.
Note if I speak truth. Now — all together: 'Long
live Edward, king of England I * *'

•* Long live Edward, King of England !"

The response came with such a thundergust from
the motley crew that the crazy building vibrated to
the sound. The little king's face lighted with
pleasure for an instant, and he slightly inclined his
head and said with grave simplicity :

'* I thank you, my good people."

This unexpected result threw the company into
convulsions of merriment. When something like
quiet was presently come again, the RufBer said,
firmly, but with an accent of good nature:

168 The Prince and the Pauper

•• Drop it, boy, 'tis not wise, nor well. Humor
thy fancy, if thou must, but choose some other
title."

A tinker shrieked out a suggestion :

•* Foo-foo the First, king of the Mooncalves!"

The title **took" at once, every throat re-
sponded, and a roaring shout went up, of:

•• Long live Foo-foo the First, king of the Moon-
calves!" followed by hootings, cat-calls, and peals
of laughter.

*' Hale him forth, and crown himl"

••Robe him!"

* • Sceptre him ! ' '

••Throne him!"

These and twenty other cries broke out at once;
and almost before the poor little victim could draw
a breath he was crowned with a tin basin, robed in a
tattered blanket, throned upon a barrel, and sceptred
with the tinker's soldering-iron. Then all flung
themselves upon their knees about him and sent up
a chorus of ironical wailings, and mocking supplica-
tions, while they swabbed their eyes with their soiled
and ragged sleeves and aprons :

Be gracious to us, O sweet king!"
Trample not upon thy beseeching worms, O
noble majesty!"

•* Pity thy slaves, and comfort them with a royal
kick!"

•* Cheer us and warm us with thy gracious rays,
O flaming sun of sovereignty!"

«•

The Prince and the Pauper 169

•* Sanctify the ground with the touch of thy foot,
that we may eat the dirt and be ennobled !"

** Deign to spit upon us, O sire, that our chil-
dren's children may tell of thy princely condescen-
sion, and be proud and happy forever!"

But the humorous tinker made the ** hit " of the
evening and carried off the honors. Kneeling, he
pretended to kiss the king's foot, and was indig-
nantly spurned ; whereupon he went about begging
for a rag to paste over the place upon his face which
had been touched by the foot, saying it must be
preserved from contact with the vulgar air, and that
he should make his fortune by going on the highway
and exposing it to view at the rate of a hundred
shillings a sight. He made himself so killingly
funny that he was the envy and admiration of the
whole mangy rabble.

Tears of shame and indignation stood in the little
monarch's eyes; and the thought in his heart was,
** Had I offered them a deep wrong they could not
be more cruel — yet have I proffered nought but to
do them a kindness — and it is thus they use me
for it!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PRINCE WITH THE TRAMPS

THE troop of vagabonds turned out at early
dawn, and set forward on their march. There
was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground under
foot, and a winter chill in the air. All gayety was
gone from the company; some were sullen and
silent, some were irritable and petulant, none were
gentle-humored, all were thirsty.

The Ruffler put ••Jack" in Hugo's charge, with
some brief instructions, and commanded John Canty
to keep away from him and let him alone ; he also
warned Hugo not to be too rough with the lad.

After a while the weather grew milder, and the
clouds lifted somewhat. The troop ceased to shiver,
and their spirits began to improve. They grew
more and more cheerful, and finally began to chaff
each other and insult passengers along the highway.
This showed that they were awaking -to an apprecia-
tion of life and its joys once more. The dread in
which their sort was held was apparent in the fact
that everybody gave them the road, and took their
ribald insolences meekly, without venturing to talk

back. They snatched linen from the hedges, occa-

(170)

The Prince and the Pauper 171

sionally, in full view of the owners, who made no
protest, but only seemed grateful that they did not
take the hedges, too.

By and by they invaded a small farmhouse and
made themselves at home while the trembling farmer
and his people swept the larder clean to furnish a
breakfast for them. They chucked the housewife
and her daughters under the chin while receiving the
food from their hands, and made coarse jests about
them, accompanied with insulting epithets and bursts
of horse-laughter. They threw bones and vege^
tables at the farmer and his sons, kept them dodg-
ing all the time, and applauded uproariously when a
good hit was made. They ended by buttering the
head of one of the daughters who resented some of
their familiarities. When they took their leave they
threatened to come back and burn the house over
the heads of the family if any report of their doings
got to the ears of the authorities.

About noon, after a long and weary tramp, the
gang came to a halt behind a hedge on the outskirts
of a considerable village. An hour was allowed for
rest, then the crew scattered themselves abroad to
enter the village at different points to ply their vari-
ous trades. "Jack" was sent with Hugo. They
wandered hither and thither for some time, Hugo
watching for opportunities to do a stroke of busi-
ness but finding none — so he finally said :

"I see nought to steal; it is a paltry place
Wherefore we will beg."

172 The Prince and the Pauper

*' We, forsooth! Follow thy trade — it befits
thee. But / will not beg."

••Thou'lt not beg!" exclaimed Hugo, eyeing the
king with surprise. ** Prithee, since when hast thou
reformed?"

•• What dost thou mean?"

**Mean? Hast thou not begged the streets of
London all thy life?"

••I? Thou idiot!"

•* Spare thy compliments — thy stock will last the
longer. Thy father says thou hast begged all thy
days. Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you will even
make so bold as to say he lied," scoffed Hugo.
Him you call my father? Yes, he lied."
Come, play not thy merry game of madman so
far, mate ; use it for thy amusement, not thy hurt.
An' I tell him this, he will scorch thee finely for it."

•* Save thyself the trouble. I will tell him."

I like thy spirit, I do in truth ; but I do not ad-
mire thy judgment. Bone-rackings and bastings be
plenty enow in this life, without going out of one's
way to invite them. But a truce to these matters ;
/ believe your father. I doubt not he can lie ; I
doubt not he doth lie, upon occasion, for the best of
us do that ; but there is no occasion here. A wise
man does not waste so good a commodity as lying
for nought. But come ; sith it is thy humor to give
over begging, wherewithal shall we busy ourselves?
With robbing kitchens?"

The king said, impatiently:

The Prince and the Pauper 173

** Have done with this folly — you weary meT*

Hugo replied, with temper:

**Now harkee, mate; you will not beg, you will
not rob ; so be it. But I will tell you what you will
do. You will play decoy whilst /beg. Refuse, an'
you think you may venture ! ' '

The king was about to reply contemptuously,
when Hugo said, interrupting:

"Peace! Here comes one with a kindly face.
Now will I fall down in a fit. When the stranger
runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall upon your
knees, seeming to weep ; then cry out as if all the
devils of misery were in your belly, and say, * Oh,
sir, it is my poor afflicted brother, and we be friend-
less; o* God's name cast through your merciful eyes
one pitiful look upon a sick, forsaken, and most
miserable wretch; bestow one little penny out of
thy riches upon one smitten of God and ready to
perish!' — and mind you, keep you on wailing, and
abate not till we bilk him of his penny, else shall
you rue it.

Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and
groan, and roll his eyes, and reel and totter about;
and when the stranger was close at hand, down he
sprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to
writhe and wallow in the dirt, in seeming agony,

*' O dear, O dear I" cried the benevolent stranger.
'*Oh, poor soul, poor soul, how he doth suffer!
There — let me help thee up."

'*0, noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a

vou rue It."

i

174 The Prince and the Pauper

princely gentleman — but it giveth me cruel pain to
touch me when I am taken so. My brother there
will tell your worship how I am racked with anguish
when these fits be upon me. A penny, dear sir, a
penny, to buy a little food ; then leave me to my
sorrows."

** A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless
creature * ' — and he fumbled in his pocket with
nervous haste and got them out. •* There, poor
lad, take them, and most welcome. Now come
hither, my boy, and help me carry thy stricken
brother to yon house, where — "

•* I am not his brother," said the king, interrupt-
ing.

••What! not his brother?"

•'Oh, hear him!" groaned Hugo, then privately
ground his teeth. •* He denies his own brother —
and he with one foot in the grave !"

•'Boy, thou art indeed hard of heart, if this is
thy brother. For shame ! — and he scarce able to
move hand or foot. If he is not thy brother, who
is he, then?"

** A beggar and a thief ! He has got your money
and has picked your pocket likewise. An* thou
wouldst do a healing miracle, lay thy staff over his
shoulders and trust Providence for the rest."

But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. In a
moment he was up and off like the wind, the gentle-
man following after and raising the hue and cry
lustily as he went. The king, breathing deep grati-

The Prince and the Pauper 175

tude to Heaven for his own release, fled in the oppo-
site direction and did not slacken his pace until he
was out of harm's reach. He took the first road
that offered, and soon put the village behind him.
He hurried along, as briskly as he could, during
several hours, keeping a nervous watch over his
shoulder for pursuit ; but his fears left him at last,
and a grateful sense of security took their place.
He recognized now that he was hungry ; and also
very tired. So he halted at a farmhouse; but when
he was about to speak, he was cut short and driven
rudely away. His clothes were against him.

He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and
was resolved to put himself in the way of light treat-
ment no more. But hunger is pride's master; so
as the evening drew near, he made an attempt at
another farmhouse; but here he fared worse than
before; for he was called hard names and was
promised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on
promptly.

The night came on, chilly and overcast ; and still
the footsore monarch labored slowly on. He was
obliged to keep moving, for every time he sat down
to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone with the
cold. All his sensations and experiences, as he
moved through the solemn gloom and the empty
vastness of the night, were new and strange to him.
At intervals he heard voices approach, pass by, and
fade into silence ; and as he saw nothing more of
the bodies they belonged to than a sort of formless

176 The Prince and the Pauper

drifting blur, there was something spectral and un«
canny about it all that made him shudder. Occa-
sionally he caught the twinkle of a light — always
far away, apparently — almost in another world; if
he heard the tinkle of a sheep's bell, it was vague,
distant, indistinct; the muiSed lowing of the herds
floated to him on the night wind in vanishing
cadences, a mournful sound; now and then came
the complaining howl of a dog over viewless ex-
panses of field and forest ; all sounds were remote ;
they made the little king feel that all life and activity
were far removed from him, and that he stood soli-
tary, companionless, in the center of a measureless
solitude.

He stumbled along, through the grewsome fasci-
nations of this new experience, startled occasionally
by the soft rustling of the dry leaves overhead, so
like human whispers they seemed to sound ; and by
and by he came suddenly upon the freckled light of
a tin lantern near at hand. He stepped back into
the shadows and waited. The lantern stood by the
open door of a barn. The king waited some time —
there was no sound, and nobody stirring. He got
so cold, standing still, and the hospitable barn
looked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk
everything and enter. He started swiftly and stealth-
ily, and just as he was crossing the threshold he
heard voices behind him. He darted behind a cask,
within the barn, and stooped down. Two farm
laborers came in, bringing the lantern with them,

The Prince and the Pauper 177

and fell to work, talking meanwhile. Whilst they
moved about with the Hght, the king made good use
of his eyes and took the bearings of what seemed to
be a good sized stall at the further end of the place,
purposing to grope his way to it when he should be
left to himself. He also noted the position of a pile
of horse blankets, midway of the route, with the
intent to levy upon them for the service of the
crown of England for one night.

By and by the men finished and went away,
fastening the door behind them and taking the lan-
tern with them. The shivering king made for the
blankets, with as good speed as the darkness would
allow ; gathered them up and then groped his way
safely to the stall. Of two of the blankets he made
a bed, then covered himself with the remaining two.
He was a glad monarch now, though the blankets
were old and thin, and not quite warm enough; and
besides gave out a pungent horsy odor that was
almost suffocatingly powerful.

Although the king was hungry and chilly, he was
also so tired and so drowsy that these latter in-
fluences soon began to get the advantage of the
former, and he presently dozed off into a state of
semi-consciousness. Then, just as he was on the
point of losing himself wholly, he distinctly felt
something touch him ! He was broad awake in a
moment, and gasping for breath. The cold horror
of that mysterious touch in the dark almost made

his heart stand still. He lay motionless, and listened,
12

178 The Prince and the Pauper

scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and there
was no sound. He continued to listen, and wait,
during what seemea a long time, but still nothing
stirred, and there was no sound. So he began to
drop into a drowse once more at last; and all at
once he felt that mysterious touch again ! It was a
grisly thing, this light touch from this noiseless and
invisible presence ; it made the boy sick with ghostly
fears. What should he do? That was the ques-
tion; but he did not know how to answer it.
Should he leave these reasonably comfortable quar-
ters and fly from this inscrutable horror? But fly
whither? He could not get out of the barn; and
the idea of scurrying blindly hither ^nd thither in
the dark, within the captivity of the four walls, with
this phantom gliding after him, and visiting him with
that soft hideous touch upon cheek or shoulder at
every turn, was intolerable. But to stay where he
was, and endure this living death all night — was
that better? No. What, then, was there left to
do? Ah, there was but one course; he knew it
well — he must put out his hand and find that
thing !

It was easy to think this ; but it was hard to brace
himself up to try it. Three times he stretched his
hand a little way out into the dark gingerly ; and
snatched it suddenly back, with a gasp — not be-
cause it had encountered anything, but because he
had felt so sure it was just going to. But the fourth
time he groped a little further, and his hand lightly

The Prince and the Pauper 179

swept against something soft and warm. This petri-
fied him nearly with fright — his mind was in such a
state that he could imagine the thing to be nothing
else than a corpse, newly dead and still warm. He
thought he would rather die than touch it again.
But he thought this false thought because he did not
know the immortal strength of human curiosity. lii
no long time his hand was tremblingly groping again
— against his judgment, and without his consent —
but groping persistently on, just the same. It en-
countered a bunch of long hair; he shuddered, but
followed up the hair and found what seemed to be a
warm rope; followed up the rope and found an
innocent calf ! — for the rope was not a rope at all,
but the calf's tail.

The king was cordially ashamed of himself for
having gotten all that fright and misery out of so
paltry a matter as a slumbering calf ; but he need
not have felt so about it, for it was not the calf that
frightened him but a dreadful non-existent some-
thing which the calf stood for ; and any other boy,
in those old superstitious times, would have acted
and suffered just as he had done.

The king was not only delighted to find that the
creature was only a calf, but delighted to have the
calf's company ; for he had been feeling so lonesome
and friendless that the company and comradeship of
even| this humble animal was welcome. And he
had been so buffeted, so rudely entreated by his
own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to feel

180 The Prince and the Pauper

that he was at last in the society of a fellow creature
that had at least a soft heart and a gentle spirit,
whatever loftier attributes might be lacking. So he
resolved to waive rank and make friends with the
calf.

While stroking its sleek, warm back — for it lay
near him and within easy reach — it occurred to him
that this calf might be utilized in more ways than
one. Whereupon he re-arranged his bed, spreading
it down close to the calf; then he cuddled himself
up to the calf's back, drew the covers up over him-
self and his friend, and in a minute or two was as
warm and comfortable as he had ever been in the
downy couches of the regal palace of Westminster.

Pleasant thoughts came at once ; life took on a
cheerfuller seeming. He was free of the bonds of
servitude and crime, free of the companionship of base
and brutal outlaws; he was warm, he was sheltered;
in a word, he was happy. The night wind was
rising; it swept by in fitful gusts that made the old
barn quake and rattle, then its forces died down at
intervals, and went moaning and wailing around
corners and projections — but it was all music to the
king, now that he was snug and comfortable ; let it
blow and rage, let it batter and bang, let it moan
and wail, he minded it not, he only enjoyed it. He
merely snuggled the closer to his friend, in a luxury
of warm contentment, and drifted blissfully out of
consciousness into a deep and dreamless sleep that
was full of serenity and peace. The distant dogs

The Prince and the Pauper 181

howled, the melancholy kine complained, and the
winds went on raging, whilst furious sheets of rain
drove along the roof; but the majesty of England
slept on undisturbed, and the calf did the same, it
being a simple creature and not easily troubled by
storms or embarrassed by sleeping with a king.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE PRINCE WITH THE PEASANTS

WHEN the king awoke in the early morning, he
found that a wet but thoughtful rat had crept
into the place during the night and made a cosy
bed for itself in his bosom. Being disturbed now,
it scampered away. The boy smiled, and said,
* * Poor fool, why so fearful ? I am as forlorn as
thou. 'Twould be a shame in me to hurt the help-
less, who am myself so helpless. Moreover, I owe
you thanks for a good omen ; for when a king has
fallen so low that the very rats do make a bed of
him, it surely meaneth that his fortunes be upon the
turn, since it is plain he can no lower go."

He got up and stepped out of the stall, and just
then he heard the sound of children's voices. The
barn door opened and a couple of little girls came
in. As soon as they saw him their talking and
laughing ceased, and they stopped and stood still,
gazing at him with strong curiosity ; they presently
began to whisper together, then they approached
nearer, and stopped again to gaze and whisper. By
and by they gathered courage and began to discuss

him aloud. One said :

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The Prince and the Pauper I83

*• He hath a comely face,"

The other added :

••And pretty hair/*

•* But is ill clothed enow."

•* And how starved he looketh."

They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and
about him, examining him minutely from all points,
as if he were some strange new kind of animal ; but
warily and watchfully the while, as if they half feared
he might be a sort of animal that would bite, upon
occasion. Finally they halted before him, holding
each other's hands for protection, and took a good
satisfying stare with their innocent eyes ; then one
of them plucked up all her courage and inquired
with honest directness :
Who art thou, boy?"
I am the king," was the grave answer.

The children gave a little start, and their eyes
spread themselves wide open and remained so dur-
ing a speechless half -minute. Then curiosity broke
the silence :

•' The king ? What king?"

••The king of England."

The children looked at each other — then at him
— then at each other again — wonderingly, per-
plexedly — then one said :

••pidst hear him, Margery? — he saith he is the
king. Can that be true?"

•• How can it be else but true. Prissy? Would he
say a lie? For look you, Prissy, an' it were not

184 The Prince and the Pauper

true, it would be a He. It surely would be. Now
think on't. For all things that be not true, be lies
^— thou canst make nought else out of it."

It was a good, tight argument, without a leak
in it anywhere; and it left Prissy 's half-doubts not
a leg to stand on. She considered a moment,
then put the king upon his honor with the simple
remark :

** If thou art truly the king, then I believe thee."

*• I am truly the king."

This settled the matter. His majesty's royalty
was accepted without further question or discussion,
and the two little girls began at once to inquire into
how he came to be where he was, and how he came
to be so unroyally clad, and whither he was bound,
and all about his affairs. It was a mighty relief to
him to pour out his troubles where they would not
be scoffed at or doubted ; so he told his tale with
feeling, forgetting even his hunger for the time ; and
it was received with the deepest and tenderest sym-
pathy by the gentle little maids. But when he got
down to his latest experiences and they learned how
long he had been without food, they cut him short
and hurried him away to the farmhouse to find a
breakfast for him.

The king was cheerful and happy now, and said
to himself, ** When I am come to mine own again, I
wir always honor little children, remembering how
that these trusted me and believed in me in my time
of trouble ; whilst they that were older, and thought

The Prince and the Pauper 185

themselves wiser, mocked at me and held me for a
liar."

The children's mother received the king kindly,
and was full of pity ; for his forlorn condition and
apparently crazed intellect touched her womanly
heart. She was a widow, and rather poor ; conse-
quently she had seen trouble enough to enable her
to feel for the unfortunate. She imagined that the
demented boy had wandered away from his friends
or keepers ; so she tried to find out whence he had
come, in order that she might take measures to re-
turn him; but all her references to neighboring
towns and villages, and all her inquiries in the same
line, went for nothing — the boy's face, and his
answers, too, showed that the things she was talking
of were not familiar to him. He spoke earnestly
and simply about court matters; and broke down,
more than once, when speaking of the late king
**his father"; but whenever the conversation
changed to baser topics, he lost interest and became
silent.

The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did
not give up. As she proceeded with her cooking,
she set herself to contriving devices to surprise the
boy into betraying his real secret. She talked about
cattle — he showed no concern ; then about sheep —
the same result — so her guess that he had been a
shepherd boy was an error ; she talked about mills ;
and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and
tradesmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails,

186 The Prince and the Pauper

and charitable retreats; but no matter, she was
baffled at all points. Not altogether, either; for
she argued that she had narrowed the thing down to
domestic service. Yes, she was sure she was on the
right track now — he must have been a house ser-
vant. So she led up to that. But the result was
discouraging. The subject of sweeping appeared to
weary him; fire-building failed to stir him; scrub-
bing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm. Then the
goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and rather
as a matter of form, upon the subject of cooking.
To her surprise, and her vast delight, the king's face
lighted at once ! Ah, she had hunted him down at
last, she thought; and she was right proud, too, of
the devious shrewdness and tact which had accom-
plished it.

Her tired tongue got a chance to rest now ; for the
king's, inspired by gnawing hunger and the fragrant
smells that came from the sputtering pots and pans,
turned itself loose and delivered itself up to such an
eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsome dishes,
that within three minutes the woman said to herself,
**Of a truth I was right — he hath holpen in a
kitchen!" Then he broadened his bill of fare, and
discussed it with such appreciation and animation,
that the goodwife said to herself, * * Good lack !
how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones
withal? For these belong only upon the tables of
the rich and great. Ah, now I see ! ragged outcast
as he is, he must have served in the palace before

The Prince and the Pauper 187

his reason went astray ; yes, he must have helped in
the very kitchen of the king himself ! I will test
him/'

Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told
the king to mind the cooking a moment — hinting
that he might manufacture and add a dish or two, if
he chose — then she went out of the room and gave
her children a sign to follow after. The king mut-
tered :

** Another English king had a commission like to
this, in a bygone time — it is nothing against my
dignity to undertake an office which the great Alfred
stooped to assume. But I will try to better serve
my trust than he; for he let the cakes burn.*'

The intent was good, but the performance was not
answerable to it; for this king, like the other one,
soon fell into deep thinkings concerning his vast
affairs, and the same calamity resulted — the cook-
ery got burned. The woman returned in time to
save the breakfast from entire destruction ; and she
promptly brought the king out of his dreams with a
brisk and cordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how
troubled he was over his violated trust, she softened
at once and was all goodness and gentleness toward
him.

The boy made a hearty and satisfying meal, and
was greatly refreshed and gladdened by it. It was a
meal which was distinguished by this curious feature,
that rank was waived on both sides; yet neither
recipient of the favor was aware that it had been

188 The Prince and the Pauper

■

extended. The goodwife had intended to feed this
young tramp with broken victuals in a corner, like
any other tramp, or like a dog; but she was so re-
morseful for the scolding she had given him, that
she did what she could to atone for it by allowing
him to sit at the family table and eat with his bet-
ters, on ostensible terms of equality with them ; and
the king, on his side, was so remorseful for having
broken his trust, after the family had been so kind
to him, that he forced himself to atone for it by
humbling himself to the family level, instead of re-
quiring the woman and her children to stand and
wait upon him while he occupied their table in the
solitary state due his birth and dignity. It does us
all good to unbend sometimes. This good woman
was made happy all the day long by the applauses
she got out of herself for her magnanimous conde-
scension to a tramp ; and the king was just as self-
complacent over his gracious humility toward a
humble peasant woman.

When breakfast was over, the housewife told the
king to wash up the dishes. This command was a
staggerer for a moment, and the king came near
rebelling ; but then he said to himself, * * Alfred the
Great watched the cakes ; doubtless he would have
washed the dishes, too — therefore will I essay it."

He made a sufficiently poor job of it ; and to his
surprise, too, for the cleaning of wooden spoons
and trenchers had seemed an easy thing to do. It
was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, but

The Prince and the Pauper 189

he finished it at last. He was becoming impatient to
get away on his journey now ; however, he was not
to lose this thrifty dame's society so easily. She
furnished him some little odds and ends of employ-
ment, which he got through with after a fair
fashion and with some credit. Then she set him
and the little girls to paring some winter apples;
but he was so awkward at this service that she retired
him from it and gave him a butcher knife to grind.
Afterward she kept him carding wool until he began
to think he had laid the good King Alfred about far
enough in the shade for the present, in the matter
of showy menial heroisms that would read pic-
turesquely in story-books and histories, and so he
was half minded to resign. And when, just after
the noonday dinner, the goodwife gave him a basket
of kittens to drown, he did resign. At least he was
just going to resign — for he felt that he must draw
the line somewhere, and it seemed to him that to
draw it at kitten-drowning was about the right thing
— when there was an interruption. The interrup-
tion was John Canty — with a peddler's pack on his
back — and Hugo !

The king discovered these rascals approaching the
front gate before they had had a chance to see him ;
so he said nothing about drawing the line, but took
up his basket of kittens and stepped quietly out
the back way, without a word. He left the creatures
in an outhouse, and hurried on into a narrow lane at
the rear.

CHAPTER XX,

THE PRINCE AND THE HERMIT

THE high hedge hid him from the house now ; and
so, under the impulse of a deadly, fright, he let
out all his forces and sped toward a wood in the dis-
tance. He never looked back until he had almost
gained the shelter of the forest ; then he turned and
descried two figures in the distance. That was
sufficient; he did not wait to scan them critically,
but hurried on, and never abated his pace till he was
far within the twilight depths of the wood. Then
he stopped ; being persuaded that he was now toler-
ably safe. He listened intently, but the stillness was
profound and solemn — awful, even, and depressing
to the spirits. At wide intervals his straining ear
did detect sounds, but they were so remote, and
hollow, and mysterious, that they seemed not to be
real sounds, but only the moaning and complaining
ghosts of departed ones. So the sounds were yet
more dreary than the silence which they interrupted.
It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where
he was, the rest of the day ; but a chill soon invaded
his perspiring body, and he was at last obliged to
resume movement in order to get warm. He struck

(190)

The Prince and the Pauper 191

straight through the forest, hoping to pierce to a
road presently, but he was disappointed in this. He
traveled on and on; but the farther he went, the
denser the wood became, apparently. The gloom
began to thicken, by and by, and the king realized
that the night was coming on. It made him shudder
to think of spending it in such an uncanny place ;
so he tried to hurry faster, but he only made the
less speed, for he could not now see well enough to
choose his steps judiciously ; consequently he kept
tripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and
briers.

And how glad he was when at last he caught the
glimmer of a light ! He approached it warily, stop-
ping often to look about him and listen. It came
from an unglazed window-opening in a little hut.
He heard a voice now, and felt a disposition to run
and hide ; but he changed his mind at once, for this
voice was praying, evidently. He glided to the one
window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe, and
stole a glance within. The room was small; its
floor was the natural earth, beaten hard by use ; in
a corner was a bed of rushes and a ragged blanket
or two; near it was a pail, a cup, a basin, and two
or three pots and pans ; there was a short bench and
a three-legged stool ; on the hearth the remains of a
fagot fire were smouldering; before a shrine, which
was lighted by a single candle, knelt an aged man,
and on an old wooden box at his side lay an open
book and a human skull. The man was of large.

192 The Prince and the Pauper

bony frame ; his hair and whiskers were very long
and snowy white ; he was clothed in a robe of sheep-
skins which reached from his neck to his heels.

**A holy hermit!" said the king to himself;
** now am I indeed fortunate."

The hermit rose from his knees ; the king knocked.
A deep voice responded :

•'Enter! — but leave sin behind, for the ground
whereon thou shalt stand is holy I ' '

The king entered, and paused. The hermit turned
a pair of gleaming, unrestful eyes upon him, and
said:

••Who art thou?"

•* I am the king," came the answer, with placid
simplicity.

••Welcome, king!" cried the hermit, with enthu-
siasm. Then, bustling about with feverish activity,
and constantly saying '•Welcome, welcome," he
arranged his bench, seated the king on it, by the
hearth, threw some fagots on the fire, and finally fell
to pacing the floor, with a nervous stride.

* • Welcome ! Many have sought sanctuary here,
but they were not worthy, and were turned away.
But a king who casts his crown away, and despises
the vain splendors of his office, and clothes his body
in rags, to devote his life to holiness and the morti-
fication of the flesh — he is worthy, he is welcome I
— here shall he abide all his days till death come."
The king hastened to interrupt and explain, but the
hermit paid no attention to him — did not even hear

The Prince and the Pauper 193

him, apparently, but went right on with his talk,
with a raised voice and a growing energy. * * And
thou shalt be at peace here. None shall find out
thy refuge to disquiet thee with supplications to
return to that empty and foolish life which God hath
moved thee to abandon. Thou shalt pray here;
thou shalt study the Book ; thou shalt meditate upon
the follies and delusions of this world, and upon the
sublimities of the world to come; thou shalt feed
upon crusts and herbs, and scourge thy body with
whip's daily, to the purifying of thy soul. Thou
shalt wear a hair shirt next thy skin; thou shalt
drink water only; and thou shalt be at peace; yes,
wholly at peace ; for whoso comes to seek thee shall
go his way again baffled ; he shall not find thee, he
shall not molest thee."

The old man, still pacing back and forth, ceased
to speak aloud, and began to mutter. The king
seized this opportunity to state his case ; and he did
it with an eloquence inspired by uneasiness and ap-
prehension. But the hermit went on muttering, and
gave no heed. And still muttering, he approached
the king and said, impressively:

•* 'Sh ! I will tell you a secret !" He bent down
to impart it, but checked himself, and assumed a
listening attitude. After a moment or two he went
on tiptoe to the window-opening, put his head out
and peered around in the gloaming, then came tip-
toeing back again, put his face close down to the

king's and whispered:
18

194 The Prince and the Pauper

" I am an archangel !"

The king started violently, and said to himself,
*• Would God I were with the outlaws again; for lo,
now am I the prisoner of a madman ! ' ' His appre-
hensions were heightened, and they showed plainly
in his face. In a low, excited voice, the hermit
continued :

** I see you feel my atmosphere ! There's awe in
your face ! None may be in this atmosphere and
not be thus affected ; for it is the very atmosphere
of heaven. I go thither and return, in the twinkling
of an eye. I was made an archangel on this very
spot, it is five years ago, by angels sent from heaven
to confer that awful dignity. Their presence filled
this place with an intolerable brightness. And they
knelt to me, king ! yes, they knelt to me ! for I was
greater than they. I have walked in the courts of
heaven, and held speech with the patriarchs. Touch
my hand — be not afraid — touch it. There — now
thou hast touched a hand which has been clasped by
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob ! For I have walked
in the golden courts, I have seen the Deity face to
face!" He paused, to give this speech effect; then
his face suddenly changed, and he started to his feet
again, saying, with angry energy, **Yes, I am an
archangel ; a mere archangel /-—I that might have
been pope! It is verily true. I was told it from
heaven in a dream, twenty years ago; ah, yes, 1
was to be pope ! — and I should have been pope, for
Heaven had said it — but the king dissolved my

The Prince and the Pauper 195

religious house, and I, poor obscure unfriended
monk, was cast homeless upon the world, robbed of
my mighty destiny!" Here he began to mumble
again, and beat his forehead in futile rage, with his
fist; now and then articulating a venomous curse,
and now and then a pathetic ** Wherefore I am
nought but an archangel — I that should have been
pope ! ' '

So he went on for an hour, while the poor little
king sat and suffered. Then all at once the old
man's frenzy departed, and he became all gentle-
ness. His voice softened, he came down out of his
clouds, and fell to prattling along so simply and so
humanely, that he soon won the king's heart com-
pletely. The old devotee moved the boy nearer to
the fire and made him comfortable; doctored his
small bruises and abrasions with a deft and tender
hand ; and then set about preparing and cooking a
supper — chatting pleasantly all the time, and occa-
sionally stroking the lad's cheek or patting his head,
in such a gently caressing way that in a little while
all the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel
were changed to reverence and affection for the man.

This happy state of things continued while the
two ate the supper; then, after a prayer before the
shrine, the hermit put the boy to bed, in a small ad-
joining room, tucking him in as snugly and lovingly
as a mother might; and so, with a parting caress,
left him and sat down by the fire, and began to poke
the brands about in an absent and aimless way

X

<(
«s
<<
<«
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196 The Prince and the Pauper

Presently he paused ; then tapped his forehead sev-
eral times with his fingers, as if trying to recall some
thought which had escaped from his mind. Ap-
parently he was unsuccessful. Now he started
quickly up, and entered his guest's room, and said:

Thou art king?"

Yes," was the response, drowsily uttered

What king?"

Of England."

Of England. Then Henry is gone !"

Alack, it is so. I am his son."
A black frown settled down upon the hermit's
face, and he clenched his bony hands with a vindic-
tive energy. He stood a few moments, breathing
fast and swallowing repeatedly, then said in a husky
voice :

•• Dost know it was he that turned us out into the
world houseless and homeless?"

There was no response. The old man bent down
and scanned the boy's reposeful face and listened to
his placid breathing. * * He sleeps — sleeps soundly ; ' '
and the frown vanished away and gave place to an
expression of evil satisfaction. A smile flitted across
the dreaming boy's features. The hermit muttered,
**So — his heart is happy;" and he turned away.
He went stealthily about the place, seeking here and
there for something; now and then halting to listen,
now and then jerking his head around and casting a
quick glance toward the bed ; and always muttering,
always mumbling to himself. At last he found what

The Prince and the Pauper 197

he seemed to want — a rusty old butcher knife and
a whetstone. Then he crept to his place by the
fire, sat himself down, and began to whet the knife
softly on the stone, still muttering, mumbling, ejacu-
lating. The winds sighed around the lonely place,
the mysterious voices of the night floated by out of
the distances. The shining eyes of venturesome
mice and rats peered out at the old man from cracks
and coverts, but he went on with his work, rapt, ab*
sorbed, and noted none of these things.

At long intervals he drew his thumb along the
edge of his knife, and nodded his head with satisfac-
tion. ** It grows sharper," he said; ** yes, it grows
sharper."

He took no note 6f the flight of time, but worked
tranquilly on, entertaining himself with his thoughts,
which broke out occasionally in articulate speech :

•* His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us —
and is gone down into the eternal fires ! Yes, down
into the eternal fires ! He escaped us — but it was
God's will, yes it was God's will, we must not
repine. But he hath not escaped the fires ! no, he
hath not escaped the fires, the consuming, unpity-
ing, remorseless fires — and they are everlasting!"

And so he wrought; and still wrought; mum-
bling — chuckling a low rasping chuckle at times —
and at times breaking again into words :

** It was his father that did it all. I am but an
archangel — but for him, I should be pope!"

The king stirred. The hermit sprang noiselessly

198 The Prince and the Pauper

to the bedside, and went down upon his knees,
bending over the prostrate form with his knife up-
lifted. The boy stirred again; his eyes came open
for an instant, but there was no speculation in them,
they saw nothing; the next moment his tranquil
breathing showed that his sleep was sound once
more.

The hermit watched and listened for a time, keep-
ing his position and scarcely breathing; then he
slowly lowered his arm, and presently crept away,
saying :

•* It is long past midnight — it is not best that he
should cry out, lest by accident some one be pass-
mg.'

He glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, a
thong there, and another one yonder ; then he re-
turned, and by careful and gentle handling he
managed to tie the king's ankles together without
waking him. Next he essayed to tie the wrists; he
made several attempts to cross them, but the boy
always drew one hand or the other away, just as the
cord was ready to be applied ; but at last, when the
archangel was almost ready to despair, the boy
crossed his hands himself, and the next moment
they were bound. Now a bandage was passed under
the sleeper's chin and brought up over his head and
tied fast — and so softly, so gradually, and so deftly
were the knots drawn together and compacted, that
the boy slept peacefully through it all without
stirring.

CHAPTER XXI.

HENDON TO THE RESCUE

THE old man glided away, stooping, stealthily,
cat-like, and brought the low bench. He
seated himself upon it, half his body in the dim and
flickering light, and the other half in shadow; and
so, with his craving eyes bent upon the slumbering
boy, he kept his patient vigil there, heedless of the
drift of time, and softly whetted his knife, and
mumbled and chuckled ; and in aspect and attitude
he resembled nothing so much as a grizzly, mon-
strous spider, gloating over some hapless insect that
lay bound and helpless in his web.

After a long while, the old man, who was still
gazing, — yet not seeing, his mind having settled
into a dreamy abstraction, — observed on a sudden,
that the boy's eyes were open — wide open and
staring ! — staring up in frozen horror at the knife.
The smile of a gratified devil crept over the old
man's face, and he said, without changing his atti-
tude or occupation :

** Son of Henry the Eighth, hast thou prayed?"
The boy struggled helplessly in his bonds ; and at
the same time forced a smothered sound through his

(199)

200 The Prince and the Pauper

closed jaws, which the hermit chose to interpret as
an affiriiiative answer to his question.

"Then pray again. Pray the prayer for the
dying!"

A shudder shook the boy's frame, and his face
blenched. Then he struggled again to free himself
— turning and twisting himself this way and that;
tugging frantically, fiercely, desperately — but use-
lessly — to byrst his fetters; and all the while the
old ogre smiled down upon him, and nodded his
head, and placidly whetted his knife, mumbling,
from time to time, **The moments are precious,
they are few and precious — pray the prayer for the
dying!"

The boy uttered a despairing groan, and ceased
from his struggles, panting. The tears came, then,
and trickled, one after the other, down his face; but
this piteous sight wrought no softening effect upon
the savage old man.

The dawn was coming now ; the hermit observed
it, and spoke up sharply, with a touch of nervous
apprehension in his voice :

**I may not indulge this ecstasy longer! The
night is already gone. It seems but a moment —
only a moment; would it had endured a year!
Seed of the Church's spoiler, close thy perishing
eyes, an' thou fearest to look upon "

The rest was lost in inarticulate mutterings. The
old man sank upon his knees, his knife in his hand,
and bent himself over the moaning boy —

The Prince and the Pauper 201

Hark! There was a sound of voices near the
cabin — the knife dropped from the hermit's hand;
he cast a sheepskin over the boy and started up,
trembling. The sounds increased, and presently the
voices became rough and angry; then came blows,
and cries for help ; then a clatter of swift footsteps
retreating. Immediately came a succession of thun
dering knocks upon the cabin door, followed by :

** HuUo-o-o ! Open ! And despatch, in the name
of all the devils!"

Oh, this was the blessedest sound that had ever
made music in the king's ears; for it was Miles
Hendon's voice !

The hermit, grinding his teeth in impotent rage,
moved swiftly out of the bedchamber, closing the
door behind him ; and straightway the king heard a
talk, to this effect, proceeding from the " chapel " :

** Homage and greeting, reverend sir! Where is
the boy — my boy?"
What boy, friend?"

What boy! Lie me no lies, sir priest, play
me no deceptions ! — I am not in the humor for it.
Near to this place I caught the scoundrels who I
judged did steal him from me, and I made them
confess ; they said he was at large again, and they
had tracked him to your door. They showed me
his very footprints. Now palter no more ; for look
you, holy sir, an' thou produce him not — Where
is the boy?"

** Oh, good sir, peradventure you mean the ragged

202 The Prince and the Pauper

regal vagrant that tarried here the night. If such as
you take interest in such as he, know, then, that I
have sent him of an errand. He will be back anon.*'

'* How soon? How soon? Come, waste not the
time — cannot I overtake him ? How soon will he
be back?"

•• Thou needst not stir; he will return quicldy."

•' So be it then. I will try to wait. But stop ! —
you sent him of an errand? — you! Verily, this is
a lie — he would not go. He would pull thy old
beard, an' thou didst offer him such an insolence.
Thou hast lied, friend; thou hast surely lied! He
would not go for thee nor for any man."

" For any man — no; haply not. But I am not
a man."

*• What! Now o* God's name what art thou,
then?"

** It is a secret — mark thou reveal it not. I am
an archangel!"

There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles
Hendon — not altogether unprofane — followed by:

*'This doth well and truly account for his com-
plaisance ! Right well I knew he would budge nor
hand nor foot in the menial service of any mortal ;
but lord, even a king must obey when an archangel
gives the word o' command ! Let me — 'sh ! What
noise was that?"

All this while the king had been yonder, alternately
quaking with terror and trembling with hope ; and
all the while, too, he had thrown all the strength he

The Prince and the Pauper 203

could into his anguished moanings, constantly ex-*
pecting them to reach Hendon's ear, but always
realizing, with bitterness, that they failed, or at least
made no impression. So this last remark of his
servant came as comes a reviving breath from fresh
fields to the dying; and he exerted himself once
more, and with all his energy, just as the hermit was
saying :

'* Noise? I heard only the wind.'*

" Mayhap it was. Yes, doubtless that was it. I
have been hearing it faintly all the — there it is
again ! It is not the wind ! What an odd sound I
Come, we will hunt it out!"

Now the king's joy was nearly insupportable.
His tired lungs did their utmost — and hopefully,
too — but the sealed jaws and the muffling sheepskin
sadly crippled the effort. Then the poor fellow's
heart sank, to hear the hermit say :

'* Ah, it came from without — I think from the
copse yonder. Come, I will lead the way."

The king heard the two pass out talking ; heard
their footsteps die quickly away — then he was alone
with a boding, brooding, awful silence.

It seemed an age till he heard the steps and voices
approaching again — and this time he heard an
added sound — the trampling of hoofs, apparently.
Then he heard Hendon say :

"I will not wait longer. I cannot wait longer.
He has lost his way in this thick wood. Which
direction took he? Quick — point it out to me."

204 The Prince and the Pauper

•* He — but wait; I will go with thee."

*• Good — good ! Why, truly thou are better than
thy looks. Marry, I do think there's not another
archangel with so right a heart as thine. Wilt ride ?
Wilt take the wee donkey that's for my boy, or wilt
thou fork thy holy legs over this ill-conditioned slave
of a mule that I have provided for myself? — and
had been cheated in, too, had he cost but the in-
different sum of a month's usury on a brass farthing
let to a tinker out of work."

•*No — ride thy mule, and lead thine ass; I am
surer on mine own feet, and will walk."

•' Then, prithee, mind the little beast for me while
I take my life in my hands and make what success I
may toward mounting the big one."

Then followed a confusion of kicks, cuffs, tramp-
lings and plungings, accompanied by a thunderous
intermingling of volleyed curses, and finally a bitter
apostrophe to the mule, which must have broken its
spirit, for hostilities seemed to cease from that
moment.

With unutterable misery the fettered little king
heard the voices and footsteps fade away and die
out. All hope forsook him now for the moment,
and a dull despair settled down upon his heart.
** My only friend is deceived and got rid of," he
said; *' the hermit will return and — " He finished
with a gasp ; and at once fell to struggling so frantic-
ally with his bonds again, that he shook off the
smothering sheepskin.

The Prince and the Pauper 205

And now he heard the door open ! The sound
chilled him to the marrow — already he seemed to
feel the knife at his throat. Horror made him close
his eyes ; horror made him open them again — and
before him stood John Canty and Hugo !

He would have said "Thank God!" if his jaws
had been free.

A moment or two later his limbs were at liberty,
and his captors each gripping him by an arm, were
hurrying him with all speed through the forest.

X4

CHAPTER XXII.

A VICTIM OP TREACHERY

ONCE more •'King Foo-Foo the First** was
roving with the tramps and outlaws, a butt
for their coarse jests and dull-witted railleries, and
sometimes the victim of small spitefulnesses at the
hands of Canty and Hugo when the Ruffler's back
was turned. None but Canty and Hugo really dis-
liked him. Some of the others liked him, and all
admired his pluck and spirit. During two or three
days, Hugo, in whose ward and charge the king
was, did what he covertly could to make the boy
uncomfortable ; and at night, during the customary
orgies, he amused the company by putting small
indignities upon him — always as if by accident.
Twice he stepped upon the king's toes — accident-
ally — and the king, as became his royalty, was
contemptuously unconscious of it and indifferent to
it; but the third time Hugo entertained himself in
that way, the king felled him to the ground with a
cudgel, to the prodigious delight of the tribe.
Hugo, consumed with anger and shame, sprang up,

seized a cudgel, and came at his small adversary in

(ao6)

The Prince and the Pauper 207

a fury. Instantly a ring was formed around the
gladiators, and the betting and cheering began. But
poor Hugo stood no chance whatever. His frantic
and lubberly 'prentice-work found but a poor market
for itself when pitted against an arm which had been
trained by the first masters of Europe in single-stick,
quarter-staff, and every art and trick of swordsman-
ship. The little king stood, alert but at graceful
ease, and caught and turned aside the thick rain of
blows with a facility and precision which set the
motley on-lookers wild with admiration ; and every
now and then, when his practiced eye detected an
opening, and a lightning-swift rap upon Hugo's
head followed as a result, the storm of cheers and
laughter that swept the place was something wonder-
ful to hear. At the end of fifteen minutes, Hugo,
all battered, bruised, and the target for a pitiless
bombardment of ridicule, slunk from the field ; and
the unscathed hero of the fight was seized and borne
aloft upon the shoulders of the joyous rabble to the
place of honor beside the Ruffier, where with vast
ceremony he was crowned King of the Game-Cocks ;
his meaner title being at the same time solemnly
canceled and annulled, and a decree of banishment
from the gang pronounced against any who should
henceforth utter it.

All attempts to make the king serviceable to the
troop had failed. He had stubbornly refused to
act ; moreover, he was always trying to escape. He
had been thrust into an unwatched kitchen, the first

208 The Prince and ttie Paiqxr

day of his return ; he not only came forth empty-
handed, but tried to rouse the housemates. He
was sent out with a tinker to help him at his work;
he would not work; moreover, he threatened the
tinker with his own soldering-iron ; and finally both
Hugo and the tinker found their hands full with the
mere matter of keeping him from getting away. He
delivered the thunders of his royalty upon the heads
of all who hampered his liberties or tried to force
him to service. He was sent out, in Hugo's charge,
in company with a slatternly woman and a diseased
baby, to beg; but the result was not encouraging —
he declined to plead for the mendicants, or be a
party to their cause in any way.

Thus several days went by ; and the miseries <rf
this tramping life, and the weariness and sordidness
and meanness and vulgarity of it, became gradually
and steadily so intolerable to the captive that he
began at last to feel that his release from the hermit's
knife must prove only a temporary respite from
death, at best.

But at night, in his dreams, these things were for-
gotten, and he was on his throne, and master again.
This, of course, intensified the sufferings of the
awakening — so the mortifications of each succeed-
ing morning of the few that passed between his re-
turn to bondage and the combat with Hugo, grew
bitterer and bitterer, and harder and harder to bear.

The morning after that combat, Hugo got up with
a heart filled with vengeful purposes against the

The Prince and the Pauper 209

king. He had two plans in particular. One was to
inflict upon the lad what would be, to his proud
spirit and ** imagined" royalty, a peculiar humilia*
tion; and if he failed to accomplish, this, his other
plan was to put a crime of some kind upon the king
and then betray him into the implacable clutches of
the law.

In pursuance of the first plan, he proposed to put
a ** clime " upon the king's leg, rightly judging that
that would mortify him to the last and perfect de-
gree; and as soon as the clime should operate, he
meant to get Canty' s help, ^x\A force the king to ex-
pose his leg in the highway and beg for alms.
** Clime" was the cant term for a sore, artificially
created. To make a clime, the operator made a
paste or poultice of unslaked lime, soap, and the
rust of old iron, and spread it upon a piece of
leather^ which was then bound tightly upon the leg.
This would presently fret off the skin, and make the
flesh raw and angry-looking ; blood was then rubbed
upon the limb, which, being fully dried, took on a
dark and repulsive color. Then a bandage of soiled
rags was put on in a cleverly careless way which
would allow the hideous ulcer to be seen and move
the compassion of the passer-by.*

Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the king
had cowed with the soldering-iron; they took the
boy out on a tinkering tramp, and as soon as they
were out of sight of the camp they threw him down

*Fiom *'The English Rogue"; London, 1665.
14

210 The Prince and the Pauper

and the tinker held him while Hugo bound the
poultice tight and fast upon his leg.

The king raged and stormed, and promised to hang
the two the moment the scepter was in his hand
again; but they kept a firm grip upon him and
enjoyed his impotent struggling and jeered at his
threats. This continued until the poultice began to
bite ; and in no long time its work would have been
perfected, if there had been no interruption. But
there was; for about this time the "slave** who
had made the speech denouncing England's laws,
appeared on the scene and put an end to the enter-
prise, and stripped off the poultice and bandage.

The king wanted to borrow his deliverer's cudgel
and warm the jackets of the two rascals on the spot;
but the man said no, it would bring trouble — leave
the matter till night ; the whole tribe being together,
then, the outside world would not venture to inter-
fere or interrupt. He marched the party back to
camp and reported the affair to the Ruffler, who
listened, pondered, and then decided that the king
should not be again detailed to beg, since it was
plain he was worthy of something higher and better
— wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the
mendicant rank and appointed him to steal !

Hugo was overjoyed. He had already tried to
make the king steal, and failed ; but there would be
no more trouble of that sort now, for, of course,
the king would not dream of defying a distinct com*
mand delivered directly from headquarters. So he

The Prince and the Pauper 211

planned a raid for that very afternoon, purposing to
get the king in the law's grip in the course of it;
and to do it, too, with such ingenious strategy, that
it should seem to be accidental and unintentional;
for the King of the Game-Cocks was popular now,
and the gang might not deal over-gently with an un-
popular member who played so serious a treachery
upon him as the delivering him over to the common
enemy, the law.

Very well. All in good time Hugo strolled off to
a neighboring village with his prey; and the two
drifted slowly up and down one street after another,
the one watching sharply for a sure chance to
achieve his evil purpose, and the other watching as
sharply for a chance to dart away and get free of
his infamous captivity forever.

Both threw away some tolerably fair-looking op-
portunities; for both, in their secret hearts, were
resolved to make absolutely sure work this time, and
neither meant to allow his fevered desires to seduce
him into any venture that had much uncertainty
about it.

Hugo's chance came first. For at last a woman
approached who carried a fat package of some sort
in a basket. Hugo's eyes sparkled with sinful
pleasure as he said to himself, ** Breath o* my life,
an' I can but put that upon him, 'tis good-den and
God keep thee, King of the Game-Cocks!" He
waited and watched — outwardly patient, but in-
wardly consuming with excitement — till the woman

212 The Prince and the Pauper

had passed by, and the time was ripe; then said, in
a low voice: "Tarry here till I come again/' and
darted stealthily after the prey.

The king's heart was filled with joy — he could
make his escape now, if Hugo's quest only carried
him far enough away.

But he was to have no such luck. Hugo crept
behind the woman, snatched the package, and came
running back, wrapping it in an old piece of blanket
which he carried on his arm. The hue and cry was
raised in a moment by the woman, who knew her
loss by the lightening of her burden, although she
had not seen the pilfering done. Hugo thrust the
bundle into the king's hands without halting, saying:

•' Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry
* Stop thief!' but mind ye lead them astray!"

The next moment Hugo turned a corner and
darted down a crooked alley, — and in another mo-
ment or two he lounged into view again, looking
innocent and indifferent, and took up a position be-
hind a post to watch results.

The insulted king threw the bundle on the ground ;
and the blanket fell away from it just as the woman
arrived, with an augmenting crowd at her heels; she
seized the king's wrist with one hand, snatched up
her bundle with the other, and began to pour out a
tirade of abuse upon the boy while he struggled,
without success, to free himself from her grip.

Hugo had seen enough — his enemy was captured
and the law would get him now — so he slipped

The Prince and the Pauper 213

away, jubilant and chuckling, and wended camp-
wards, framing a judicious version of the matter to
give to the Ruffler's crew as he strode along.

The king continued to struggle in the woman's
grasp, and now and then cried out, in vexation :

** Unhand me, thou foolish creature; it was not I
that bereaved thee of thy paltry goods."

The crowd closed around, threatening the king
and calling him names; a brawny blacksmith in
leather apron, and sleeves rolled to his elbows, made
a reach for him, saying he would trounce him well,
for a lesson ; but just then a long sword flashed in
the air and fell with convincing force upon the man's
arm, flat-side down, the fantastic owner of it remark-
ing pleasantly at the same time :

** Marry, good souls, let us proceed gently, not
with ill blood and uncharitable words. This is
matter for the law's consideration, not private and
unofRcial handling. Loose thy hold from the boy,
good wife."

The blacksmith averaged the stalwart soldier with
a glance, then went muttering away, rubbing his
arm; the woman released the boy's wrjst reluc-
tantly ; the crowd eyed the stranger unlovingly, but
prudently closed their mouths. The king sprang to
his deliverer's side, with flushed cheeks and spark-
ling eyes, exclaiming :

**Thou hast lagged sorely, but thou comest in
good season now. Sir Miles ; carve me this rabble to
rags!**

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE PRINCE A PRISONER

HENDON forced back a smile, and bent down
and whispered in the king's ear: .

** Softly, softly my prince, wag thy tongue warily
— nay, suffer it not to wag at all. Trust in me —
all shall go well in the end." Then he added, to
himself: **5/r Miles! Bless me, I had totally for-
got I was a knight ! Lord how marvelous a thing it
is, the grip his memory doth take upon his quaint

and crazy fancies ! An empty and foolish title

is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it,
for I think it is more honor to be held worthy to be
a specter-knight in his Kingdom of Dreams and
Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl
in some of the real kingdoms of this world."

The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who
approached and was about to lay his hand upon the
king's shoulder, when Hendon said :

"Gently, good friend, withhold your hand — he
shall go peaceably ; I am responsible for that. Lead
on, we will follow."

The officer led, with the woman and her bundle;

(214)

The Prince and the Pauper 215

Miles and the king followed after, with the crowd at
their heels. The king was inclined to rebel; but
Hendon said to him in a low voice :

"Reflect, sire — your laws are the wholesome
breath of your own royalty ; shall their source resist
them, yet require the branches to respect them?
Apparently, one of these laws has been broken;
when the king is on his throne again, can it ever
grieve him to remember that when he was seemingly
a private person he loyally sunk the king in the
citizen and submitted to its authority?"

"Thou art right; say no more; thou shalt see
that whatsoever the king of England requires a sub-
ject to suffer under the law, he will himself suffer
while he holdeth the station of a subject."

When the woman was called upon to testify before
the justice of the peace, she swore that the small
prisoner at the bar was the person who had com-
mitted the theft ; there was none able to show the
contrary, so the king stood convicted. The bundle
was now unrolled, and when the contents proved to
be a plump little dressed pig, the judge looked
troubled, while Hendon turned pale, and his body
was thrilled with an electric shiver of dismay ; but
the king remained unmoved, protected by his igno-
rance. The judge meditated, during an ominous
pause, then turned to the woman, with the question:

"What dost thou hold this property to be
worth?"

The woman courtesied and replied :

216 The Prince and the Pauper

** Three shillings and eightpence, your worship —
I could not abate a penny and set forth the value
honestly."

The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon
the crowd, then nodded to the constable and said:

** Clear the court and close the doors."

It was done. None remained but the two officials,
the accused, the accuser, and Miles Hendon. This
latter was rigid and colorless, and on his forehead
big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blended
together, and trickled down his face. The judge
turned to the woman again, and said, in a compas-
sionate voice:

** 'Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven
hard by hunger, for these be grievous times for the
unfortunate; mark you, he hath not an evil face —
but when hunger driveth — Good woman! dost
know that when one steals a thing above the value
of thirteen pence ha'penny the law saith he shall
kangioT it?"

The little king started, wide-eyed with consterna-
tion, but controlled himself and held his peace ; but
not so the woman. She sprang to her feet, shaking
with fright, and cried out :

*' Oh, good lack, what have I done I God-a-
mercy, I would not hang the poor thing for the
whole world ! Ah, save me from this, your wor-
ship — what shall I do, what can I do?"

The justice maintained his judicial composure, and
simply said :

The Prince and the Pauper 217

•* Doubtless it is allowable to revise the value,
since it is not yet writ upon the record."

**Then in God's name call the pig eightpence,
and heaven bless the day that freed my conscience
of this awesome thing!"

Miles Hendon forgot all decorum in his delight ;
and surprised the king and wounded his dignity by
throwing his arms around him and hugging him.
The woman made her grateful adieux and started
away with her pig ; and when the constable opened
the door for her, he followed her out into the
narrow hall. The justice proceeded to write in his
record book. Hendon, always alert, thought he
would like to know why the officer followed the
woman out; so he slipped softly into the dusky
hall and listened. He heard a conversation to this
effect :

*' It is a fat pig, and promises good eating; I will
buy it of thee; here is the eightpence."

** Eightpence, indeed ! Thou'lt do no such thing.
It cost me three shillings and eightpence, good
honest coin of the last reign, that old Harry that's
just dead ne'er touched nor tampered with. A fig
for thy eightpence!"

** Stands the wind in that quarter? Thou wast
under oath, and so swore falsely when thou said^t
the value was but eightpence. Come straightway
back with me before his worship, and answer for the
crime! — and then the lad will hang."

** There, there dear heart, say no more, I am

218 The Prince and the Pauper

content. Give me the eightpence^ and hold thy
peace about the matter/'

The woman went off crying; Hendon slipped
back into the court room, and the constable pres-
ently followed, after hiding his prize in some con-
venient place. The justice wrote a while longer,
then read the king a wise and kindly lecture, and
sentenced him to a short imprisonment in the com-
mon jail, to be followed by a public flogging. The
astounded king opened his mouth and was probably
going to order the good judge to be beheaded on
the spot; but he caught a warning sign from Hen-
don, and succeeded in closing his mouth again be-
fore he lost anything out of it. Hendon took him
by the hand, now made reverence to the justice, and
the two departed in the wake of the constable toward
the jail. The moment the street was reached, the
inflamed monarch halted, snatched away his hand,
and exclaimed :

*' Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail
alive r*

Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply:

** Will you trust in me? Peace! and forbear to
worsen our chances with dangerous speech. What
God wills, will happen; thou canst not hurry it,
thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be
patient — 'twill be time enow to rail or rejoice when
what is to happen has happened."* ^

* See Notes to Chapter 23, at end of voliinie.

\

CHAPTER XXIV.

THB ESCAPE

TTIE short winter day was nearly ended. The
■ streets were deserted, save for a few random
stragglers, and these hurried straight along, with the
intent look of people who were only anxious to ac-
complish their errands as quickly as possible and
then snugly house themselves from the rising wind
and the gathering twilight. They looked neither to
the right nor to the left; they paid no attention to
our party, they did not even seem to see them.
Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a
king on his way to jail had ever encountered such
marvelous indifference before. By and by the con-
stable arrived at a deserted market-square and pro-
ceeded to cross it. When he had reached the
middle of it, Hendon laid his hand upon his arm,
and said in a low voice :

•* Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hear-
ing, and I would say a word to thee.*'

** My duty forbids it, sir; prithee, hinder me not,
the night comes on.''

«c

220 The Prince and the Pauper

•* Stay, nevertheless, for the matter concerns thee
nearly. Turn thy back a moment and seem not to
see; let this poor lad escape.**

This to me, sir! I arrest thee in — **
Nay, be not too hasty. See thou be careful
and commit no foolish error" — then he shut his
voice down to a whisper, and said in the man's
ear — ** the pig thou hast purchased for eightpence
may cost thee thy neck, man !*'

The poor constable, taken by surprise, was speech-
less at first, then found his tongue and fell to bluster-
ing and threatening ; but Hendon was tranquil, and
waited with patience till his breath was spent; then
said:

** I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not
willingly see thee come to harm. Observe, I heard
it all — every word. I will prove it to thee." Then
he repeated the conversation which the officer and
the woman had had together in the hall, word for
word, and ended with:

"There — have I set it forth correctly? Should
not I be able to set it forth correctly before the
judge, if occasion required?"

The man was dumb with fear and distress for a
moment; then he rallied and said with forced light*

ness:

Tis making a mighty matter indeed, out of a
jest; I but plagued the woman for mine amuse-
ment."

** Kept you the woman's pig for amusement?"

The Prince and the Pauper 221

The man answered sharply :

** Nought else, good sir — I tell thee 'twas but a
jest."

** I do begin to believe thee/' said Hendon, with
a perplexing mixture of mockery and half-conviction
in his tone ; ** but tarry thou here a moment whilst I
run and ask his worship — for nathless, he being a
man experienced in law, in jests, in — "

He was moving away, still tailing ; the constable
hesitated, fidgeted, spat out an oath or two, then
cried out:

** Hold, hold, good sir — prithee, wait a little —
the judge ! why man, he hath no more sympathy
with a jest than hath a dead corpse ! — come, and
we will speak tfurther. Ods body ! I seem to be in
evil case — and all for an innocent and thoughtless
pleasantry. I am a man of family; and my wife
and little ones — List to reason, good your wor-
ship ; what wouldst thou of me?"

** Only that thou be blind and dumb and paralytic
whilst one may count a hundred thousand — count-
ing slowly," said Hendon, with the expression of a
man who asks but a reasonable favor, and that a
very little one.

**It is my destruction!" said the constable de-
spairingly. "Ah, be reasonable, good sir; only
look at this matter, on all its sides, and see how
mere a jest it is — how manifestly and how plainly
it is so. And even if one granted it were not a jest,
it is a fault so small that e'en the grimmest penalty

S5

222 The Prince and the Pauper

it could call forth would be but a rebuke and warn*
ing from the judge's lips."

Hendon replied with a solemnity which chilled
the air about him :

*' This jest of thine hath a name in law — wot you
what it is?"

' ' I knew it not ! Peradventure I have been un-
wise. I never dreamed it had a name — ah, sweet
heaven, I thought it was original."

*' Yes, it hath a name. In the law this crime is
called Non compos mentis lex talionis sic transit
gloria Mundi,**

••Ah, my God!"

•• And the penalty is death !"
God be merciful to me, a sinner!"
By advantage taken of one in fault, in dire
peril, and at thy mercy, thou hast seized goods
worth above thirteen pence ha'penny, paying but a
trifle for the same ; and this, in the eye of the law,
is constructive barratry, misprision of treason, mal-
feasance in office, ad hominem expurgatis in statu
quo — and the penalty is death by the halter, with-
out ransom, commutation, or benefit of clergy."

• 'Bear me up, bear me up, sweet sir, my legs do
fail me! Be thou merciful — spare me this doom,
and I will turn my back and see nought that shall
happen."

" Good ! now thou'rt wise and reasonable. And
thou'lt restore the pig?"

••I will, I will, indeed — nor ever touch another.

«•
««

The Prince and the Pauper 223

though heaven send it and an archangel fetch it.
Go — I am blind for thy sake — I see nothing. I
will say thou didst break in and wrest the prisoner
from my hands by force. It is but a crazy, ancient
door — I will batter it down myself betwixt midnight
and the morning."

** Do it, good soul, no harm will come of it; the
judge hath a loving charity for this poor lad, and
will shed no tears and break no jailor's bones for his
escape."

CHAPTER XXV.

HBNDON HALL

AS soon as Hendon and the king were out of sight
of the constable, his majesty was instructed to
hurry to a certain place outside the town, and wait
there, whilst Hendon should go to the inn and settle
his account. Half an hour later the two friends
were blithely jogging eastward on Hendon' s sorry
steeds. The king was warm and comfortable now,
for he had cast his rags and clothed himself in the
second-hand suit which Hendon had bought on
London Bridge.

Hendon wished to guard against over-fatiguing
the boy; he judged that hard journeys, irregular
meals, and illiberal measures of sleep would be bad
for his crazed mind; while rest, regularity, and
moderate exercise would be pretty sure to hasten
its cure ; he longed to see the stricken intellect made
well again and its diseased visions driven out of the
tormented little head ; therefore he resolved to move
by easy stages toward the home whence he had so
long been banished, instead of obeying the impulse
of his impatience and hurrying along night and day.

(224)

The Prince and the Pauper 225

When he and the king had journeyed about ten
miles, they reached a considerable village, and
halted there for the night, at a good inn. The
former relations were resumed; Hendon stood be-
hind the Jdng's chair while he dined, and waited
upon him ; undressed him when he was ready for
bed; then took the floor for his own quarters, and
slept athwart the door, rolled up in a blanket.

The next day, and the next day after, they jogged
lazily along talking over the adventures they had
met since their separation, and mightily enjoying
each other's narratives. Hendon detailed all his
wide wanderings in search of the king, and de-
scribed how the archangel had led him a fool's
journey all over the forest, and taken him back to
the hut finally, when he found he could not get rid
of him. Then — he said — the old man went into
the bedchamber and came staggering back looking
broken-hearted, and saying he had expected to find
that the boy had returned and lain down in there to
rest, but it was not so. Hendon had waited at the
hut all day; hope of the king's return died out then,
and he departed upon the quest again.

"And old Sanctum Sanctorum was truly sorry
your Highness came not back," said Hendon; "I
saw it in his face."

*• Marry, I will never doubt that T* said the king

— and then told his own story ; after which Hendon

was sorry he had not destroyed the archangel.

During the last day of the trip, Hendon's spirits
15

226 The Prince and the Pauper

were soaring. His tongue ran constantly. He
talked about his old father, and his brother Arthur,
and told of many things which illustrated their high
and generous characters ; he went into loving fren-
zies over his Edith, and was so glad-hearted that he
was even able to say some gentle and brotherly
things about Hugh. He dwelt a deal on the coming
meeting at Hendon Hall ; what a surprise it would
be to everybody, and what an outburst of thanks-
giving and delight there would be.

It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and
orchards, and the road led through broad pasture
lands whose receding expanses, marked with gentle
elevations and depressions, suggested the swelling
and subsiding undulations of the sea. In the after-
noon the returning prodigal made constant deflec-
tions from his course to see if by ascending some
hillock he might not pierce the distance and catch a
glimpse of his home. At last he was successful,
and cried out excitedly :

*• There is the village, my prince, and there is the
Hall close by ! You may see the towers from here ;
and that wood there — that is my father's park.
Ah, now thou 'It know what state and grandeur be!
A house with seventy rooms — think of that! — and
seven and twenty servants! A brave lodging for
such as we, is it not so? Come, let us speed — my
impatience will not brook further delay."

All possible hurry was made; still, it was after
three o'clock before the village was reached. The

The Pnnce and the Pauper 227

travelers scampered through it, Hendon's tongue
going all the time. ** Here is the church — covered
with the same ivy — none gone, none added."
"Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion, — and yon-
der is the market place." ** Here is the Maypole,
and here the pump — nothing is altered; nothing
but the people, at any rate ; ten years make a change
in people; some of these I seem to know, but
none know me." So his chat ran on. The end of
the village was soon reached; then the travelers
struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with
tall hedges, and hurried briskly along it for a half
mile, then passed into a vast flower garden through
an imposing gateway whose huge stone pillars bore
sculptured armorial devices. A noble mansion was
before them.

"Welcome to Hendoti Hall, my king!" ex-
claimed Miles. ** Ah, 'tis a great day ! My father
and my brother and the Lady Edith will be so mad
with joy that they will have eyes and tongue for
none but me in the first transports of the meeting,
and so thou* It seem but coldly welcomed — but
mind it not; 'twill soon seem otherwise ; for when
I say thou art my ward, and tell them how costly is
my love for thee, thou'lt see them take thee to their
breasts for Miles Hendon's sake, and make their
house and hearts thy home forever after!"

The next moment Hendon sprang to the ground

before the great door, helped the king down, then

took him by the hand and rushed within. A few
o

228 The Prince and ihe Pauper

steps brought him to a spacious apartment ; he en-
teredy seated the king with more hurry than cere-
mony, then ran toward a young man who sat at a
writing-table in front of a generous fire of logs.

** Embrace me, Hugh," he cried, "and say
thou'rt glad I am come again ! and call our father,
for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, and
see his face, and hear his voice once more I"

But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a
momentary surprise, and bent a grave stare upon
the intruder — a stare which indicated somewhat of
offended dignity at first, then changed, in response
to some inward thought or purpose, to an expression
of marveling curiosity, mixed with a real or assumed
compassion. Presently he said, in a mild voice:

•* Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubt-
less thou hast suffered privations and rude buffetings
at the world's hands; thy looks and dress betoken
it. Whom dost thou take me to be?"

*• Take thee? Prithee, for whom else than whom
thou art? I take thee to be Hugh Hendon," said
Miles, sjiiarply.

The other continued, in the same soft tone:

•• And whom dost thou imagine thyself to be?"

*' Imagination hath nought to do with it! Dost
thou pretend thou knowest me not for thy brother
Miles Hendon?"

An expression of pleased surprise flitted across
Hughes face, and he exclaimed:

'* What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come

The Prince and the Pauper 229

to life? God be praised if it be so ! Our poor lost
boy restored to our arms after all these cruel years 1
Ah, it seems too good to be true, it is too good to
be true — I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle
with me ! Quick — come to the light — let me scan
thee well!"

He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the
window, and began to devour him from head to foot
with his eyes, turning him this way and that, and
stepping briskly around him and about him to prove
him from all points of view ; whilst the returned
prodigal, all aglow with gladness, smiled, laughed,
and kept nodding his head and saying :

** Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou'lt
find nor limb nor feature that cannot bide the test.
Scour and scan me to thy content, my dear old
Hugh — I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old
Miles, thy lost brother, is't not so? Ah, 'tis a great
day — I said 'twas a great day ! Give me thy hand,
give me thy cheek — lord, I am like to die of very
joy!"

He was about to throw himself upon his bf other ;
but Hugh put up his hand in dissent, then dropped
his chin mournfully upon his breast, saying with
emotion :

** Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear
this grievous disappointment ! ' '

Miles, amazed, could not speak for a moment;
then he found his tongue, and cried out:

• ' WAat disappointment ? Am I not thy brother ?* '

230 The Prince and fhe Pauper

Hugh shook his head sadly , and said :
'* I pray heaven it may prove so, and that other
eyes may find the resemblances that are hid from
mine. Alack, I fear me the letter spoke but too
truly."

••What letter?"

** One that came from over sea, some six or seven
years ago. It said my brother died in battle."

It was a lie ! Call thy father — he will know me. "
One may not call the dead."
Dead?" Miles's voice was subdued, and his
lips trembled. "My father dead! — oh, this is
heavy news. Half my new joy is withered now.
Prithee, let me see my brother Arthur — he will
know me; he will know me and console me."
He, also, is dead."
God be merciful to me, a stricken man ! Gone,

— both gone — the worthy taken and the worthless
spared in me ! Ah ! I crave your mercy ! — do not
say the Lady Edith — ' '

" Is dead? No, she lives."

"Then, God be praised, my joy is whole agsdnl
Speed thee, brother — let her come to me I An' she
say I am not myself, — but she will not; no, no, she
will know me, I were a fool to doubt it. Bring her

— bring the old servants; they, too, will know me."
"All are gone but five — Peter, Halsey, David,

Bernard, and Margaret."

So saying, Hugh left the room. Miles stood musing
a while, then began to walk the floor, muttering:

«(
(«

««

The Prince and the Pauper 231

• The five arch villains have survived the two-and-
twenty leal and honest — 'tis an odd thing."

He continued walking back and forth , muttering
to himself; he had forgotten the king entirely. By
and by his majesty said gravely, and with a touch of
genuine compassion, though the words themselves
were capable of being interpreted ironically :

**Mind not thy mischance , good man; there be
others in the world whose identity is denied, and
whose claims are derided. Thou hast company."
Ah, my king," cried Hendon, coloring slightly,

do not thou condemn me — wait, and thou shalt
see. I am no impostor — she will say it; you shall
hear it from the sweetest lips in England. I an im-
postor? Why I know this old hall, these pictures
of my ancestors, and all these things that are about
us, as a child knoweth its own nursery. Here was I
born and bred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would
not deceive thee; and should none else believe, I
pray thee do not thou doubt me — I could not bear
it."

'* I do not doubt thee," said the king, with a
childlike simplicity and faith.

** I thank thee out of my heart!" exclaimed Hen-
don, with a fervency which showed that he was
touched. The king added, with the same gentle
simplicity :

•• Dost thou doubt me /"

A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he
was grateful that the door opened to admit Hugh,

232 The Prince and the Pauper

at that moment, and saved him the necessity of
replying.

A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh,
and after her came several liveried servants. The
lady walked slowly, with her head bowed and her
eyes fixed upon the floor. The face was unspeak-
ably sad. Miles Hendon sprang forward, crying out :
'• Oh, my Edith, my darling — "
But Hugh waved him back, gravely, and said to
the lady :

** Look upon him. Do you know him?"
At the sound of Miles' s voice the woman had
started slightly, and her cheeks had flushed; she
was trembling now. She stood still, during an im-
pressive pause of several moments; then slowly
lifted up her head and looked into Hendon's eyes
with a stony and frightened gaze; the blood sank
out of her face, drop by drop, till nothing remained
but the gray pallor of death; then she said, in a
voice as dead as the face, •* I know him not!" and
turned, with a moan and a stifled sob, and tottered
out of the room.

Miles Hendon sank into a chair and covered his
face with his hands. After a pause, his brother
said to the servants :

** You have observed him. Do you know him?"
They shook their heads ; then the master said :
** The servants know you not, sir. I fear there is
some mistake. You have seen that my wife knew
you not."

The Prince and the Pauper 233

** Thy wi/e /*' In an instant Hugh was pinned
to the wall, with an iron grip about his throat.
** Oh, thou fox-hearted slave, I see it all! Thou'st
writ the lying letter thyself,, and my stolen bride and
goods are its fruit. There — now get thee gone, lest
I shame mine honorable soldiership with the slaying
of so pitiful a manikin !"

Hugh, red-faced and almost suffocated, reeled to
the nearest chair, and commanded the servants to
seize and bind the murderous stranger. They hesi-
tated, and one of them said :

** He is armed. Sir Hugh, and we are weapon-
less.*'

** Armed? What of it, and ye so many? Upon
him, I say!"

But Miles warned them to be careful what they
did, and added:

**Ye know me of old — I have not changed;
come on, an' it like you."

This reminder did not hearten the servants much ;
they still held back.

•• Then go, ye paltry cowards, and arm yourselves
and guard the doors, while I send one to fetch the
watch;" said Hugh. He turned, at the threshold,
and said to Miles, ** You'll find it to your advantage
to offend not with useless endeavors at escape."

•'Escape? Spare thyself discomfort, an' that is
all that troubles thee. For Miles Hendon is master
of Hendon Hall and all its belongings. He will re-
main — doubt it not."

CHAPTER XXVI.

DISOWNED

nPHE king sat musing a few moments, then looked
I up and said :

** 'Tis strange — most strange. I cannot account
for it."

** No, it is not strange, my liege. I know him,
and this conduct is but natural. He was a rascal
from his birth."

** Oh, I spake not of Aim, Sir Miles."

•• Not of him? Then of what? What is it that
is strange?"

•• That the king rs not missed."

•• How? Which? I doubt I do not understand."

** Indeed ! Doth it not strike you as being pass*
ing strange that the land is not filled with couriers
and proclamations describing my person and making
search for me? Is it no matter for commotion and
distress that the head of the state is gone? — that I
am vanished away and lost?"

•• Most true, my king, I had forgot." Then
Hendon sighed » and muttered to himself. Poor
ruined mind — still busy with its pathetic dream."

(234)

The Prince and the Pauper 235

** But I have a plan that shall right us both. I
will write a paper, in three tongues — Latin, Greek,
and English — and thou shalt haste away with it to
London in the morning. Give it to none but my
uncle, the Lord Hertford ; when he shall see it, he
will know and say I wrote it. Then he will send
for me."

'* Might it not be best, my prince, that we wait
here until I prove myself and make my rights secure
to my domains? I should be so much the better
able then to — "

The king interrupted him imperiously:

•'Peace! What are thy paltry domains, thy
trivial interests, contrasted with matters which con-
cern the weal of a nation and the integrity of a
throne!" Then he added, in a gentle voice, as if
he were sorry for his severity, ** Obey and have no
fear; I will right thee, I will make thee whole — yes,
more than whole. I shall remember, and requite."

So saying, he took the pen, and set himself to
work. Hendon contemplated him lovingly a while,
then said to himself:

•* An' it were dark, I should think it was a king
that spoke; there's no denying it, when the humor's
upon him he doth thunder and lighten like your true
king — now where got he that trick? See him
scribble and scratch away contentedly at his mean-
ingless pot-hooks, fancying them to be Latin and
Greek — and except my wit shall serve me with a
lucky device for diverting him from his purpose, I

236 The Prince and the Pauper

shall be forced to pretend to post away to-morrow
on this wild errand he hath invented for me."

The next moment Sir Miles' s thoughts had gone
back to the recent episode. So absorbed was he in
his musings, that when the king presently handed
him the paper which he had been writing, he re-
ceived it and pocketed it without being conscious of
the act. "How marvelous strange she acted," he
muttered. **I think she knew me — and I think
she did not know me. -These opinions do conflict, I
perceive it plainly; I cannot reconcile them, neither
can I, by argument, dismiss either of the two, or
even persuade one to outweigh the other. The
matter standeth simply thus : she must have known
my face, my figure, my voice, for how could it be
otherwise? yet she said she knew me not, and that
is proof perfect, for she cannot lie. But stop — I
think I begin to see. Peradventure he hath influ-
enced her — commanded her — compelled her to lie.
That is the solution ! The riddle is unriddled. She
seemed dead with fear — yes, she was under his
compulsion. I will seek her; I will find her; now
that he is away, she will speak her true mind. She
will remember the old times when we were little
playfellows together, and this will soften her heart,
and she will no more betray me, but will confess
me. There is no treacherous blood in her — no,
she was always honest and true. She has loved me
in those old days — this is my security; for whom
one has loved, one cannot betray."

The Prince and the Pauper 237

He stepped eagerly toward the door ; at that mo-
ment it opened, and the Lady Edith entered. She
was very pale, but she walked with a firm step, and
her carriage was full of grace and gentle dignity.
Her face was as sad as before.

Miles sprang forward, with a happy confidence,
to meet her, but she checked him with a hardly
perceptible gesture, and he stopped where he was.
She seated herself, and asked him to do likewise.
Thus simply did she take the sense of old-comrade-
ship out of him, and transform him into a stranger
and a guest. The surprise of it, the bewildering
unexpectedness of it, made him begin to question,
for a moment, if he was the person he was pretend*
ing to be, after all. The Lady Edith said :

** Sir, I have come to warn you. The mad can-
not be persuaded out of their delusions, perchance ;
but doubtless they may be persuaded to avoid perils.
I think this dream of yours hath the seeming of
honest truth to you, and therefore is not criminal —
but do not tarry here with it ; for here it is danger-
ous." She looked steadily into Miles's face a mo-
ment, then added, impressively, ** It is the more
dangerous for that you are much like what our lost
lad must have grown to be, if he had lived."

** Heavens, madam, but I am he 1 "

** I truly think you think it, sir. I question not
your honesty in that — I but warn you, that is all.
My husband is master in this region; his power
hath hardly any limit ; the people prosper or starve.

238 The Prince and the Pauper

as he wills. If you resembled not the man whom
you profess to be, my husband might bid you
pleasure yourself with your dream in peace; but
trust me, I know him well, I know what he will do ;
he will say to all that you are but a mad impostor,
and straightway all will echo him." She bent upon
Miles that same steady look once more, and added :
*' If you were Miles Hendon, and he knew it and all
the region knew it — consider what I am saying,
weigh it well — you would stand in the same peril,
your punishment would be no less sure ; he would
deny you and denounce you, and none would be
bold enough to give you countenance."

Most truly I believe it," said Miles, bitterly.

The power that can command one lifelong friend
to betray and disown another, and be obeyed, may
well look to be obeyed in quarters where bread and
life are on the stake and no cobweb ties of loyalty
and honor are concerned."

A famt tinge appeared for a moment in the lady's
cheek, and she dropped her eyes to the floor; but
her voice betrayed no emotion when she proceeded :

** I have warned you, I must still warn you, to go
hence. This man will destroy you else. He is a
tyrant who knows no pity. I, who am his fettered
slave, know this. Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my
dear guardian, Sir Richard, are free of him, and at
rest — better that you were with them than that you
hide here in the clutches of this miscreant. Your
|>retensions are a menace to his title and possessions ;

««

The Prince and the Pauper 239

you have assaulted him in his own house — you are
ruined if you stay. Go — do not hesitate. If you
lack money, take this purse, I beg of you, and
bribe the servants to let you pass. Oh, be warned,
poor soul, and escape while you may."

Miles declined the purse with a gesture, and rose
up and stood before her.

*• Grant me one thing," he said. ** Let your eyes
rest upon mine, so that I may see if they be steady.
There — now answer me. Am I MUes Hendon?"

** No. I know you not."

••Swear it!"

The answer was low, but distinct :

••I swear."
Oh, this passes belief!"

Fly ! Why will you waste the precious time ?
Fly and save yourself. ' '

At that moment the officers burst into the room
and a violent struggle began ; but Hendon was soon
overpowered and dragged away. The king was
taken also, and both were bound and led to prison.

CHAPTER XXVIL

IN PRISON

HTHE cells were all crowded; so the two friends

■ were chained in a large room where persons
charged with trifling offenses were commonly kept.
They had company, for there were some twenty
manacled or fettered prisoners here, of both sexes
and of varying ages, — an obscene and noisy gang.
The king chafed bitterly over the stupendous indig-
nity thus put upon his royalty, but Hendon was
moody and taciturn. He was pretty thoroughly
bewildered. He had come home, a jubilant prodi-
gal, expecting to find everybody wild with joy over
his return ; and instead had got the cold shoulder
and a jail. The promise and the fulfilment differed
so widely, that the effect was stunning; he could
not decide whether it was most tragic or most
grotesque. He felt much as a man might who had
danced blithely out to enjoy a rainbow, and got
struck by lightning.

But gradually his confused and tormenting
thoughts settled down into some sort of order, and

then his mind centered itself upon Edith. He turned

(240)

The Prince and the Pauper 241

her conduct over, and examined it in all lights, but
he could not make anything satisfactory out of it.
Did she know him? — or didn't she know him? It
was a perplexing puzzle, and occupied him a long
time; but he ended, finally, with the conviction that
she did know him, and had repudiated him for
interested reasons. He wanted to load her name
with curses now; but this name had so long been
sacred to him that he found he could not bring his
tongue to profane it.

Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tat-
tered condition, Hendon and the king passed a
troubled night. For a bribe the jailer had furnished
liquor to some of the prisoners ; singing of ribald
songs, fighting, shouting, and carousing, was the
natural consequence. At last, a while after mid-
night, a man attacked a woman and nearly killed
her by beating her over the head with his manacles
before the jailer could come to the rescue. The
jailer restored peace by giving the man a sound
clubbing about the head and shoulders — then the
carousing ceased ; and after that, all had an oppor-
tunity to sleep who did not mind the annoyance of
the moanings and groanings of the two wounded
people.

During the ensuing week, the days and nights
were of a monotonous sameness, as to events ; men
whose faces Hendon remembered more or less dis-
tinctly came, by day, to gaze at the *' impostor"

and repudiate and insult him; and by night the
16

242 The Prince and the Pauper

carousing and brawling went on, with symmetrical
regularity. However, there was a change of inci-
dent at last. The jailer brought in an old man, and
said to him :

** The villain is in this room — cast thy old eyes
about and see if thou canst say which is he/'

Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant
sensation for the first time since he had been in the
jail. He said to himself, '*This is Blake Andrews,
a servant all his life in my father's family — a good
honest soul, with a right heart in his breast. That
is, formerly. But none are true now ; all are liars.
This man will know me — and will deny me, toOf
like the rest. ' '

The old man gazed around the room, glanced at
each face in turn, and finally said :

** I see none here but paltry knaves, scum o* the
streets. Which is he?"

The jailer laughed.

*'Here," he said; "scan this big animal, and
grant me an opinion."

The old man approached, and looked Hendon
over, long and earnestly, then shook his head and
said:

* * Marry, (Ais is no Hendon — nor ever was ! ' '

** Right 1 Thy old eyes are sound yet. An' I
were Sir Hugh, I would take the shabby carle
and—"

The jailer finished by lifting himself a-tip-toe with
an imaginary halter, at the same time making a

The Prince and the Pauper 243

gurgling noise in his throat suggestive of suffocation.
The old man said, vindictively:

•* Let him bless God an' he fare no worse. An'
/ had the handling o' the villain, he should roast, or
t am no true man!*'

The jailer laughed a pleasant hyena laugh, and
said:

*• Give him a piece of thy mind, old man — they
all do it. Thou'lt find it good diversion."

Then he sauntered toward his anteroom and dis-
appeared. The old man dropped upon his knees
and whispered :

** God be thanked, thou'rt come again, my mas-
ter ! I believed thou wert dead these seven years,
and lo, here thou art alive ! I knew tliee the mo-
ment I saw thee; and main hard work it was to
keep a stony countenance and seem to see none
here but tuppenny knaves and rubbish o' the streets.
I am old and poor, Sir Miles ; but say the word and
I will go forth and proclaim the truth though I be
strangled for it."

•* No," said Hendon, *' thou shalt not. It would
ruin thee, and yet help but little in my cause. But
I thank thee ; for thou hast given me back some-
what of my lost faith in my kind."

The old servant became very valuable to Hendon
and the king; for he dVopped in several times a day
to " abuse " the former, and always smuggled in a
few delicacies to help out the prison bill of fare ; he
also furnished the current news. Hendon reserved

244. The Prince and the Pauper

the dainties for the king ; without them his majesty
might not have survived, for he was not able to eat
the coarse and wretched food provided by the jailer.
Andrews was obliged to confine himself to brief
visits, in order to avoid suspicion ; but he managed
to impart a fair degree of information each time —
information delivered in a low voice, for Hendon's
benefit, and interlarded with insulting epithets de-
livered in a louder voice, for the benefit of other
hearers.

So, little by little, the story of the family came
out. Arthur had been dead six years. This loss,
with the absence of news from Hendon, impaired
the father's health; he believed he was going to
die, and he wished to see Hugh and Edith settled in
life before he passed away ; but Edith begged hard
for delay, hoping for Miles's return ; then the letter
came which brought the news of Miles's death ; the
shock prostrated Sir Richard; he believed his end
was very near, and he and Hugh insisted upon the
marriage ; Edith begged for and obtained a month's
respite ; then another, and finally a third ; the mar-
riage then took place, by the deathbed of Sir
Richard. It had not proved a happy one. It was
whispered about the country that shortly after the
nuptials the bride found among her husband's
papers several rough and incomplete drafts of the
fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating the
marriage — and Sir Richard's death, too — by a
wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to the Lady Edith

The Prince and the Pauper 245

and the servants were to be heard on all hands ; and
since the father's death Sir Hugh had thrown off all
soft disguises and become a pitiless master toward
all who in any way depended upon him and his
domains for bread.

There was a bit of Andrews's gossip which the
king listened to with a lively interest :

"'There is rumor that the king is mad. But in
charity forbear to say / mentioned it, for 'tis death
to speak of it, they say."

His majesty glared at the old man and said :
'The king is not mad, good man — and thou'lt
find it to thy advantage to busy thyself with matters
that nearer concern thee than this seditious prattle."

"What doth the lad mean?" said Andrews, sur-
prised at this brisk assault from such an unexpected
quarter. Hendon gave him a sign, and he did not
pursue his question, but went on with his budget:

"The late king is to be buried at Windsor in a
day or two — the i6th of the month, — and the new
king will be crowned at Westminster the 20th."

*• Methinks they must needs find him first," mut-
tered his majesty; then added, confidently, "but
they will look to that — and so also shall I.''

" In the name of — "

But the old man got no further — a warning sign
from Hendon checked his remark. He resumed the
thread of his gossip.

"Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation — and with
grand hopes. He confidently looketh to come back

«<

• «

246 The Prince and the Pauper

a peer, for he is high in favor with the Lord Pro*
tector."

** What Lord Protector?" asked his majesty.

" His grace the Duke of Somerset."

" What Duke of Somerset?"

• • Marry, there is but one — Seymour, Earl of
Hertford."

The king asked, sharply;
Since when is A^ a duke, and Lord Protector?'*
Since the last day of January."
And, prithee, who made him so?"
Himself and the Great Council — with help of
the king."

His majesty started violently. •"Thcifewrf/" he
cried. ** JVkaf king, good sir?"

*' What king, indeed ! (God-a-mercy, what aileth
the boy?) Sith we have but one, 'tis not difficult
to answer — his most sacred majesty King Edward
the Sixth — whom God preserve ! Yea, and a dear
and gracious little urchin is he, too; and whether
he be mad or no — and they say he mend^th daily
— his praises are on all men's lips; and all bless
him likewise, and offer prayers that he may be
spared to reigrn long in England; for he began
humanely, with saving the old Duke of Norfolk's
life, and now is he bent on destroying the cruelest
of the laws that harry and oppress the people."

This news struck his majesty dumb with amaze-
ment, and plunged him into so deep and dismal a
revery that he heard no more of the old man's

The Prince and (he Pauper 247

gossip. He wondered if the** little urchin'* was
the beggar-boy whom he left dressed in his own
garments in the palace. It did not seem possible
that this could be, for surely his manners and speech
would betray him if he pretended to be the Prince
of Wales — then he would be driven out, and search
made for the true prince. Could it be that the court
had set up some sprig of the nobility in his place?
No, for his uncle would not allow that — he was all-
powerful and could and would crush such a move-
ment, of course. The boy's musings profited him
nothing; the more he tried to unriddle the mystery
the more perplexed he became, the more his head
ached, and the worse he slept. His impatience to
get to London grew hourly, and his captivity became
almost unendurable.

Hendon's arts all failed with the king — he could
not be comforted, but a couple of women who were
chained near him, succeeded better. Under their
gentle ministrations he found peace and learned a
degree of patience. He was very grateful, and came
to love them dearly and to delight in the sweet and
soothing influence of their presence. He asked
them why they were in prison, and when they said
they were Baptists, he smiled, and inquired:

* • Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison ?
Now I grieve, for I shall lose ye — they will not
keep ye long for such a little thing."

They did not answer; and something in theif
faces made him uneasy. He said, eagerly:

248 Hie Prince and the Pauptf

••You do not speak — be good to me, and tell
me — there will be no other punishment? Prithee,
tell me there is no fear of that. ' *

They tried to change the topic, but his fears were
aroused, and he pursued it:

"Will they scourge thee? No, no, they would
not be so cruel 1 Say they would not. Come, they
will not, will they?"

The women betrayed confusion and distress, but
there was no avoiding an answer, so one of them
said, in a voice choked with emotion:

•'Oh, thou 'It break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!
God will help us to bear our — ' '

•• It is a confession !" the king broke in. *• Then
they will scourge thee, the stony-hearted wretches I
But oh, thou must not weep, I cannot bear it.
Keep up thy courage — I shall come to my own in
time to save thee from this bitter thing, and I wiQ
doit!"

When the king awoke in the morning, the women
were gone.

•* They are saved !" he said, joyfully; then added,
despondently, ** but woe is me ! — for they were my
comforters."

Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to
his clothing, in token of remembrance. He said he
would keep these things always ; and that soon he
would seek out these dear good friends of his and
take them under his protection.

Just then the jailer came in with some sulx)rdinates

The Prinoe and the Pauper 249

and commanded that the prisoners be conducted to
the jail-yard. The king was overjoyed — it would
be a blessed thing to see the blue sky and breathe
the fresh air once more. He fretted and chafed at
the slowness of the officers, but his turn came at
last and he was released from his staple and ordered
to follow the other prisoners, with*Hendon.

The court, or quadrangle, was stone-paved, and
open to the sky. The prisoners entered it through
a massive archway of masonry, and were placed in
file, standing, with their backs against the wall. A
rope was stretched in front of them, and they were
also guarded by their officers. It was a chill and
lowering morning, and a light snow which had fallen
during the night whitened the great empty space
and added to the general dismalness of its aspect.
Now and then a wintry wind shivered through the
place and sent the snow eddying hither and thither.

In the center of the court stood two women,
chained to posts. A glance showed the king that
these were his good friends. He shuddered, and
said to himself, "Alack, they are not gone free, as
I had thought. To think that such as these should
know the lash! — in England! Ay, there's the
shame of it — not in Heathenesse, but Christian
England! They will be scourged; and I, whom
they have comforted and kindly entreated, must
look on and see the great wrong done ; it is strange,
so strange ! that I, the very source of power in this
broad realm, am helpless to protect them. But let

2 so The Prince and the Pauper

these miscreants look well to themselves, for there
is a day coming when I will require of them a heavy
reckoning for this work. For every blow they strike
now they shall feel a hundred then."

A great gate swung open and a crowd of citizens
poured in. They flocked around the two women,
and hid them from the king's view. A clergyman
entered and passed through the crowd, and he also
was hidden. The king now heard talking, back and
forth, as if questions were being asked and answered,
but he could not make out what was said. Next
there was a deal of bustle and preparation, and
much passing and repassing of officials through that
part of the crowd that stood on the further side of
the women ; and while this proceeded a deep hush
gradually fell upon the people.

Now, by command, the masses parted and. fell
aside, and the king saw a spectacle that froze the
marrow in his bones. Fagots had been piled about
the two women, and a kneeling man was lighting
them!

The women bowed their heads, and covered their
faces with their hands ; the yellow flames began to
climb upward among the snapping and crackling
fagots, and wreaths of blue smoke to stream away
on the wind; the clergyman lifted his hands and
began a prayer^- just then two young girls came
flying through the great gate, uttering piercing
screams, and threw themselves upon the women at
the stake. Instantly they were torn away by the

The Prince and the Pauper 2$1

officers, and one of them was kept in a tight grip,
but the other broke loose, saying she would die with
her mother; and before she could be stopped she
had flung her arms about her mother's neck again.
She was torn away once more, and with her gown
on fire. Two or three men held her, and the burn-
ing portion of her gown was snatched of! and thrown
flaming aside, she struggling all the while to free
herself, and saying she would be alone in the world
now, and begging to be allowed to die with her
mother. Both the girls screamed continually, and
fought for freedom ; but suddenly this tumult was
drowned under a volley of heart-piercing shrieks of
mortal agony. The king glanced from the frantic
girls to the stake, then turned away and leaned his
ashen face against the wall, and looked no more.
He said, ** That which I have seen, in that one little
moment, will never go out from my memory, but
will abide there; and I shall see it all the days, and
dream of it all the nights, till I die. Would God I
had been blind ! ' '

Hendon was watching the king. He said to him-
self, with satisfaction, "His disorder mendeth; he
hath changed, and groweth gentler. If he had fol-
lowed his wont, he would have stormed at these
varlets, and said he was king, and commanded that
the women be turned loose unscathed. Soon his
delusion will pass away and be forgotten, and his
poor mind will be whole again. God speed the day ! ' '

That same day several prisoners were brought in

2$2 Hie Prince and the Pauper

to remain over night, who were being conveyed,
under guard, to various places in the kingdom, to
undergo punishment for crimes committed. The
king conversed with these, — he had made it a point,
from the beginning, to instruct himself for the
kingly office by questioning prisoners whenever the
opportunity offered — and the tale of their woes
wrung his heart. One of them was a poor half-
witted woman who had stolen a yard or two of
cloth from a weaver — she was to be hanged for it
Another was a man who had been accused of steal-
ing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he
had imagined that he was safe from the halter; but
no — he was hardly free before he was arraigned for
killing a deer in the king's park; this was proved
against him, and now he was on his way to the
gallows. There was a tradesman's apprentice whose
case particularly distressed the king ; this youth said
he found a hawk one evening that had escaped from
its owner, and he took it home with him, imagining
himself entitled to it ; but the court convicted him
of stealing it, and sentenced him to death.

The king was furious over these inhumanities,
and wanted Hendon to break jail and fly with him
to Westminster, so that he could mount his throne
and hold out his scepter in mercy over these unfor-
tunate people and save their lives. ** Poor child,"
sighed Hendon, ** these woful tales have brought his
malady upon him again — alack, but for this evil
hap, he would have been well in a little time."

The Prince and the Pauper 253

Among these prisoners was an old lawyer — a
man with a strong face and a dauntless mien. Three
years past, he had written a pamphlet against the
Lord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and had
been punished for it by the loss of his ears in the
pillory and degradation from the bar, and in addi-
tion had been fined ;£'3,ooo and sentenced to im-
prisonment for life. Lately he had repeated his
offense ; and in consequence was now under sen-
tence to lose what remained of his ears^ pay a fine
of ;^5 ,000, be branded on both cheeks, and remain
in prison for life.

" These be honorable scars,*' he said, and turned
back his gray hair and showed the mutilated stubs
of what had once been his ears.

The king's eye burned with passion. He said :

**None believe in me — neither wilt thou. But
no matter — within the compass of a month thou
shalt be free; and more, the laws that have dis-
honored thee, and shamed the English name, shall
be swept from the statute books. The world is
made wrong, kings should go to school to their own
laws at times, and so learn mercy."*

* See Notes to Chaplsr 27, at end of volume*
17

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE SACRIPICB

MEANTIME Miles was growing sufBciently tired
of confinement and inaction. But now his
trial came on, to his great gratification, and he
thought he could welcome any sentence provided a
further imprisonment should not be a part of it.
But he was mistaken about that. He was in a fine
fury when he found himself described as a ** sturdy
vagabond * ' and sentenced to sit two hours in the
pillory for bearing that character and for assaulting
the master of Hendon Hall. His pretensions as to
brothership with his prosecutor, and rightful heir-
ship to the Hendon honors and estates, were left
contemptuously unnoticed, as being not even worth
examination.

He raged and threatened on his way to punish-
ment, but it did no good ; he was snatched roughly
along by the ofRcers, and got an occasional cuff,
besides, for his unreverent conduct.

The king could not pierce through the rabble that
swarmed behind ; so he was obliged to follow in the
rear, remote from his good friend and servant. The

(354)

The Prince and the Pauper 255

king had been nearly condemned to the stocks him*
self, for being in such bad company, but had been
let of! with a lecture and a warning, in consideration
of his youth. When the crowd at last halted, he
flitted feverishly from point to point around its outer
rim, hunting a place to get through; and at last,
after a deal of difficulty and delay,, succeeded.
There sat his poor henchman in the degrading
stocks, the sport and butt of a dirty mob — he, the
body servant of the king of England ! Edward had
heard the sentence pronounced, but he had not real-
ized the half that it meant. His anger began to rise
as the sense of this new indignity which had been
put upon him sank home; it jumped to summer
heat the next moment, when he saw an egg sail
through the air and crush itself against Hendon's
cheek, and heard the crowd roar its enjoyment of
the episode. He sprang across the open circle and
confronted the officer in charge, crying:

•• For shame ! This is my servant — set him free I
I am the — ' '

'* Oh, peace!" exclaimed Hendon, in a panic,
•'thou 'It destroy thyself. Mind him not, officer,
he is mad."

•• Give thyself no trouble as to the matter of mind-
ing him, good man, I have small mind to mind him ;
but as to teaching him somewhat, to that I am well
inclined." He turned to a subordinate and said,
*' Give the little fool a taste or two of the lash, to
mend his manners."

256 The Prince and the Pauper

** Half a dozen will better serve his turn/* sug-
gested Sir Hugh, who had ridden up a moment be-
fore to take a passing glance at tiie proceedings.

The king was seized. He did not even struggle,
so paralyzed was he with the mere thought of the
monstrous outrage that was proposed to be inflicted
upon his sacred person. History was already de-
filed with the record of the scourging of an English
king with whips — it was an intolerable reflection
that he must furnish a duplicate of that shameful
page. He was in the toils, there was no help for
him; he must eitiier take this punishment or beg
for its remission. Hard conditions ; he would take
die stripes — a king might do that, but a king could
not beg.

But meantime, Miles Hendon was resolving the
difiiculty. ** Let the child go," said he; ** ye heart-
less dogs, do ye not see how young and frail he is?
Let him go — I will take his lashes."

** Marry, a good thought, — and thanks for it,"
said Sir Hugh, his face lighting with a sardonic satis-
faction. ^*Let the little be^[ar go, and give this
fellow a dozen in his place — an honest dozen, well
laid on." The king was in the act of entering a
fierce protest, but Sir Hugh silenced him with the
potent remark, **Yes, speak up, do, and free tiiy
mind — only, mark ye, that for each word you utter
he shall get six strokes the more."

Hendon was removed from the stocks, and his
back laid bare ; and while the lash was applied the

The Prince and the Pauper 2S7

poor little king turned away his face and allowed un*
royal tears to channel his cheeks unchecked. ** Ah,
brave good heart/' he said to himself , ''this loyal
deed shall never perish out of my memory. I will
not forget it — and neither shall they/" he added,
with passion. While he mused , his appreciation of
Hendon's magnanimous conduct grew to greater
and still greater dimensions in his mind> and so also
did his gratefulness for it. Presently he said to
himself, * ' Who saves his prince from wounds and
possible death — and this he did for me — performs
high service; but it is little — it is nothing! — oh,
less than nothing! — when 'tis weighed against the
act of him who saves his prince from SHAME I"

Hendon made no outcry under the scourge, but
bore the heavy blows vrith soldierly fortitude. This,
together with his redeeming the boy by taking his
stripes for him, compelled the respect of even that
forlorn and degraded mob that was gathered there ;
and its gibes and hootings died away, and no sound
remained but the sound of the falling blows. The
stillness that pervaded the place when Hendon found
himself once more in the stocks, was in strong con-
trast with the insulting clamor which had prevailed
there so little a while before. The king came softly
to Hendon's side, and whispered in his ear:

''Kings cannot ennoble thee, thou good, great

soul, for One who is higher than kings hath done

that for thee ; but a king can confirm thy nobility to

men.'' He picked up the scourge from the ground,
17

258 The Prince and the Pauper

touched Hendon's bleeding shoulders lightly with
it, and whi3pered» '* Edward of England dubs thee
earll"

Hendon was touched. The water welled to his
eyes> yet at the same time the grisly humor of the
situation and circumstances so undermined his
gravity that it was all he could do to keep some
sign of his inward mirth from showing outside. To
be suddenly hoisted, naked and gory, from the com-
mon stocks to the Alpine altitude and splendor of
an earldom, seemed to him the last possibility in the
line of the grotesque. He said to himself, "Now
am I finely tinseled, indeed I The specter-knight of
the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows is become a
specter-earl! — a dizzy flight for a callow wing!
An' this go on, I shall presently be hung like a
very May-pole with fantastic gauds and make-believe
honors. But I shall value them, all valueless as
they are, for the love that doth bestow them. Better
these poor mock dignities of mine, that come un-
asked from a clean hand and a right spirit, than
real ones bought by servility from grudging and
interested power.*'

The dreaded Sir Hugh wheeled his horse about,
and, as he spurred away, the living wall divided
silen jy to let him pass, and as silently closed to-
gether again. And so remained ; nobody went so
far as to venture a remark in favor of the prisoner,
or in compliment to him; but no matter, the ab-
sence of abuse was a sufficient homage in itself. A

The Prince and the Pauper 259

late comer who was not posted as to the present
circumstances, and who delivered a sneer at the
" impostor " and was in the act of following it with
a dead cat, was promptly knocked down and kicked
out, without any words, and then the deep quiet
resumed sway once more.

CHAPTER XXIX.

TO LONDON

iV/HEN Hendon's term of service in the stocks
VV was finished, he was released and ordered to
quit the region and come back no more. His sword
was restored to him, and also his mule and his
donkey. He mounted and rode off, followed by
the king, the crowd opening with quiet respectful-
ness to let them pass, and then dispersing when they
were gone.

Hendon was soon absorbed in thought. There
were questions of high import to be answered.
What should he do? Whither should he go?
Powerful help must be found somewhere, or he
must relinquish his inheritance and remain under
the imputation of being an impostor besides. Where
could he hope to find this powerful help? Where,
indeed 1 It was a knotty question. By and by a
thought occurred to him which pointed to a possi-
bility — the slenderest* of slender possibilities, cer-
tainly, but still worth considering, for lack of any
other that promised an3^hing at all. He remem-
bered what old Andrews had said about the young

(260)

The Prince and the Pauper 261

king's goodness and his generous championship of
the wronged and unfortunate. Why not go and try
to get speech of him and beg for justice? Ah, yes,
but could so fantastic a pauper get admission to the
august presence of a monarch? Nevermind — let
that matter take care of itself ; it was a bridge that
would not need to be crossed till he should come to
it. He was an old campaigner, and used to invent-
ing shifts and expedients; no doubt he would be
able to find a way. Yes, he would strike for the
capital. Maybe his father's old friend. Sir Humphrey
Marlow, would help him — •* good old Sir Humphrey,
Head Lieutenant of the late king's kitchen, or
stables, or something'* — ^^ Miles could not remember
just what or which. Now that he had something to
turn his energies to, a distinctly defined object to
accomplish, the fog of humiliation and depression
which had settled down upon his spirits lifted and
blew away, and he raised his head and looked about
him. He was surprised to see how far he had
come; the village was away behind him. The king
was jogging along in his wake, with his head bowed ;
for he, too, was deep in plans and thinkings. A
sorrowful misgiving clouded Hendon's new-born
cheerfulness ; would the boy be willing to go again
to a city where, during all his brief life, he had
never known anything but ill usage and pinching
want? But the question must be asked; it could
not be avoided; so Hendon reined up, and called
out:

262 The Prince and the Pauper

*'I had forgotten to inquire whither we are
Dound. Thy commands, my liege?''

••To London!"

Hendon moved on again, mightily contented with
the answer — but astounded at it, too.

The whole journey was made without an adventure
of importance. But it ended with one. About ten
o'clock on the night of the 19th of February, they
stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst of a
writhing, struggling jam of howling and hurrahing
people, whose beer-jolly faces stood out strongly in
the glare from manifold torches — and at that instant
the decaying head of some former duke or other
grandee tumbled down between them, striking Hen-
don on the elbow and then bounding off among the
hurr3dng confusion of feet. So evanescent and un-
stable are men's works in this world! — the late
good king is but three weeks dead and three days in
his grave, and already the adornments which he took
such pains to select from prominent people for his
noble bridge are falling. A citizen stumbled over
that head, and drove his own head into the back of
somebody in front of him, who turned and knocked
down the first person that came handy, and was
promptly laid out himself by that person's friend.
It was the right ripe time for a free fight, for the
festivities of the morrow — Coronation Day — were
already beginning; everybody was full of strong
drink and patriotism; within five minutes the free
fight was occupying a good deal of ground ; within

The Prince and the Pauper 263

ten or twelve it covered an acre or so, and was be-
come a riot. By this time Hendon and the king
were hopelessly separated from each other ^^nd lost
in the rush and turmoil of the roaring masses of
humanity. And so we leave them.

CHAPTER XXX.

TOM'S PROGRESS

WHILST the true king wandered about the land,
poorly clad, poorly fed, cuffed and derided
by tramps one while, herding with thieves and mur-
derers in a jail another, and called idiot and impostor
by all impartially, the mock King Tom Canty en-
joyed a quite different experience.

When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning
to have a bright side for him. This bright side
went on brightening more and more every day ; in a
very little while it was become almost all sunshine
and delightfulness. He lost his fears; his mis-
givings faded out and died; his embarrassments
departed, and gave place to an easy and confident
bearing. He worked the whipping-boy mine to
ever-increasing profit.

He ordered my Lady Elizabeth and my Lady
Jane Grey into his presence when he wanted to play
or talk, and dismissed them when he was done with
them, with the air of one familiarly accustomed to
such performances. It no longer confused him to
have these lofty personages kiss his hand at parting.

(264)

The Prince and the Pauper 26S

He came to enjoy being conducted to bed in state
at night, and dressed with intricate and solemn cere-
mony in the morning. It came to be a proud
pleasure to march to dinner attended by a glittering
procession of officers of state and gentlemen-at*
arms; insomuch, indeed , that he doubled his guard
of gentlemen-at-arms y and made them a hundred.
He liked to hear the bugles sounding down the long
corridors, and the distant voices responding, ** Way
for the King!"

He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state
in council, and seeming to be something more than
the Lord Protector's mouthpiece. He liked to re-
ceive great ambassadors and their gorgeous trains,
and listen to the affectionate messages they brought
from illustrious monarchs who called him ** brother."
Oh, happy Tom Canty, late of Offal Court !

He enjoyed his splendid clothes, and ordered
more ; he found his four hundred servants too few
for his proper grandeur, and trebled them. The
adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet
music to his ears. He remained kind and gentle,
and a sturdy and determined champion of all that
were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon un-
just laws; yet upon occasion, being offended, he
could turn upon an carl, or even a duke, and give
him a look that would make him tremble. Once,
when his royal ** sister," the grimly holy Lady
Mary, set herself to reason with him against the
wisdom of his course in pardoning so many people

266 The Prince and the Pauper

who would otherwise be jailed , or hanged, or
burned, and reminded him that their august late
father's prisons had sometimes contained as high as
sixty thousand convicts at one time, and that during
his admirable reign he had delivered seventy-two
thousand thieves and robbers over to death by the
executioner,* the boy was filled with generous indig-
nation, and commanded her to go to her closet, and
beseech God to take away the stone that was in her
breast, and give her a human heart.

Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the

«

poor little rightful prince who had treated him so
kindly, and flown out with such hot zeal to avenge
him upon the insolent sentinel at the palace-gate ?
Yes ; liis first royal days and nights were pretty well
sprinkled with painful thoughts about the lost prince,
and with sincere longings for his return and happy
restoration to his native rights and splendors. But
as time wore on, and the prince did not come, Tom's
mind became more and more occupied with his new
and enchanting experiences, and by little and little
the vanished monarch faded almost out of his
thoughts; and finally, when he did intrude upon
them at intervals, he was become an unwelcome
specter, for he made Tom feel guilty and ashamed.

Tom's poor mother and sisters traveled the same
road out of his mind. At first he pined for them,
sorrowed for them, longed to see them ; but later,
the thought of their coming some day in their rags

* Hume's England.

The Prince and the Pauper 267

and dirt> and betraying him with their kisses, and
pulling him down from his lofty place , and dragging
him back to penury and degradation and the slums,
made him shudder. At last they ceased to trouble
his thoughts almost wholly. And he was content,
even glad^ for, whenever their mournful and ac-
cusing faces did rise before him now, they made
him feel more despicable than the worms that crawl.
At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty
was sinking to sleep in his rich bed in the palace,
guarded by his loyal vassals, and surrounded by the
pomps of royalty, a happy boy ; for to-morrow was
the day appointed for his solemn crowning as king
of England. At that same hour, Edward, the true
king, hungry and thirsty, soiled and draggled, worn
with travel, and clothed in rags and shreds, — his
share of the results of the riot, — was wedged in
among a crowd of people who were watching with
deep interest certain hurrying gangs of workmen
who streamed in and out of Westminster Abbey,
busy as ants ; they were making the last preparation
for the royal coronation*

CHAPTER XXXI.

THB RECOGNITION PROCESSION

WHEN Tom Canty awoke the next morning, the
air was heavy with a thunderous murmur ; all
the distances were charged with it. It was music to
him ; for it meant that the English world was out in
its strength to gfive loyal welcome to the great day.

Presently Tom found himself once more the chief
figure in a wonderful floating pageant on the
Thames; for by ancient custom the ** recognition
procession" through London must start from the
Tower, and he was bound thither.

When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable
fortress seemed suddenly rent in a thousand places,
and from every rent leaped a red tongue of flame
and a white gush of smoke ; a deafening explosion
followed, which drowned the shoutings of the multi-
tude, and made the ground tremble; the flame-jets,
the smoke, and the explosions were repeated over
and over again with marvelous celerity, so that in a
few moments the old Tower disappeared in the vast

fog of its own smoke, all but the very top of the tall

(268)

The Prince and the Pauper 269

pile called the White Tower; this, with its banners,
stood out above the dense bank of vapor as a
mountain-peak projects above a cloud-rack.

Tom Canty y splendidly arrayed, mounted a pranc-
ing war-steed, whose rich trappings almost reached
to the ground; his •* uncle," the Lord Protector
Somerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear;
the King's Guard formed in single ranks on either
side, clad in burnished armor; after the Protector
followed a seemingly interminable procession of
resplendent nobles attended by their vassals; after
these came the lord mayor and the aldermanic body,
in crimson velvet robes, and with their gold chains
across their breasts ; and after these the officers and
members of all the guilds of London, in rich raiment,
and bearing the showy banners of the several cor-
porations. Also in the procession, as a special
guard of honor through the city, was the Ancient
and Honorable Artillery Company, — an organiza-
tion already three hundred years old at that time,
and the only military body in England possessing
the privilege (which it still possesses in our day) of
holding itself independent of the commands of
Parliament. It was a brilliant spectacle, and was
hailed with acclamations all along the line, as it took
its stately way through the packed multitudes of
citizens. The chronicler says, *'The king, as he
entered the city, was received by the people with
prayers, welcomings, cries, and tender words, and
all signs which argue an earnest love of subjects

i8

270 The Prince and the Pauper

toward their sovereign; and the king, by holding
up his glad countenance to such as stood afar off,
and most tender language to those that stood nigh
his Grace, showed himself no less thankful to receive
the people's good will than they to offer it. To all
that wished him well, he gave thanks. To such as
bade * God save his Grace,' he said in return, ' God
save you allT and added that 'he thanked them
with all his heart.' Wonderfully transported were
the people with the loving answers and gestures of
their king."

In Fenchurch street a **fair child, in costly ap-
parel," stood on a stage to welcome his majesty to
the city. The last verse of his greeting was in these
words :

*' Wdoome, O King 1 as much as hearts can think ;
Welcome again, as much as tongue can tell, —
Wdcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will not shrink ;
God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well.*'

The people burst forth in a glad shout, repeating
with one voice what the child had said. Tom Canty
gazed abroad over the surging sea of eager faces,
and his heart swelled with exultation; and he felt
that the one thing worth living for in this world .was
to be a king, and a nation's idol. Presently he
caught sight, at a distance, of a couple of his ragged
Offal Court comrades, — one of them the lord high
admiral in his late mimic court, the other the first
lord of the bedchamber in the same pretentious
fiction; and his pride swelled higher than ever.

The Prince and the Pauper 271

Oh, if they could only recognize him now ! What
unspeakable glory it would be, if they could recog-
nize him, and realize that the derided mock king of
the slums and back alleys was become a real king,
with illustrious dukes and princes for his humble
menials, and the English world at his feet ! But he
had to deny himself, and choke down his desire, for
such a recognition might cost more than it would
come to ; so he turned away his head, and left the
two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings and
glad adulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they
were lavishing them upon.

Every now and then rose the cry, *' A largess ! a
largess !" and Tom responded by scattering a hand-
ful of bright new coins abroad for the multitude to
scramble for.

The chronicler says, *' At the upper end of Grace-
church street, before the sign of the Eagle, the city
had erected a gorgeous arch, beneath which was a
stage, which stretched from one side of the street to
the other. This was a historical pageant, represent-
ing the king's immediate progenitors. There sat
Elizabeth of York in the midst of an immense white
rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows around
her; by her side was Henry VII., issuing out of a
vast red rose, disposed in the same manner; the
hands of the royal pair were locked together, and
the wedding-ring ostentatiously displayed. From
the red and white roses proceeded a stem, which
reached up to a second stage, occupied by Henry

272 The Prince and the Pauper

VIII., issuing from a red-and- white rose, with the
effigy of the new king's mother, Jane Seymour,
represented by his side. One branch sprang from
this pair, which mounted to a third stage, where sat
the effigy of Edward VI. himself, enthroned in royal
majesty; and the whole pageant was framed with
wreaths of roses, red and white."

This quaint and gaudy spectacle so wrought upon
the rejoicing people, that their acclamations utterly
smothered the small voice of the child whose busi-
ness it was to explain the thing in eulogistic rhymes.
But Tom Canty was not sorry ; for this loyal uproar
was sweeter music to him than any poetry, no matter
what its quality might be.* Whithersoever Tom
turned his happy young face, the people recognized
the exactness of his effigy's likeness to himself, the
flesh and blood counterpart ; and new whirlwinds of
applause burst forth.

The great pageant moved on, and still on, under
one triumphal arch after another, and past a bewil-
dering succession of spectacular and symbolical
tableaux, each of which typified and exalted some
virtue, or talent, or merit, of the little king's.
•'Throughout the whole of Cheapside, from every
penthouse and window, hung banners and streamers ;
and the richest carpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold
tapestried the streets, — specimens of the great
wealth of the stores within; and the splendor of
this thoroughfare was equaled in the other streets,
and in some even surpassed."

"oh, my child,"

f k to ^ «r W W

V W W »^ W t i^

V •■ w

W< V k k

The Prince and the Pauper 273

*• And all these wonders and these marvels are to
welcome me — me ! ' ' murmured Tom Canty.

The mock king's cheeks were flushed with excite-
ment, his eyes were flashing, his senses swam in a
delirium of pleasure. At this point, just as he was
raising his hand to fling another rich largess, he
caught sight of a pale, astounded face which was
strained forward out of the second rank of the
crowd, its intense eyes riveted upon him. A sicken-
ing consternation struck through him ; he recognized
his mother! and up flew his hand, palm outward,
before his eyes, — that old involuntary gesture, born
of a forgotten episode, and perpetuated by habit.
In an instant more she had torn her way out of the
press, and past the guards, and was at his side.
She embraced his leg, she covered it with kisses, she
cried, *^0, my child, my darling!" lifting toward
him a face that was transfigured with joy and love.
The same instant an officer of the King's Guard
snatche'd her away with a curse, and sent her reeling
back whence she came with a vigorous impulse from
his strong arm. The words ** I do not know you,
woman!" were falling from Tom Canty' s lips wHen
this piteous thing occurred ; but it smote him to the
heart to see her treated so ; and as she turned for a
last glimpse of him, whilst the crowd was swallowing
her from his sight, she seemed so wounded, so
broken-hearted, that a shame fell upon him which
consumed his pride to ashes, and withered his

stolen royalty. His grandeurs were stricken value-
18

274 The Prince and ibe Pauper

less; they seemed to fall away from him like rotten

The procession moved on, and still on, through
ever augmenting splendors and ever augmenting
tempests of welcome ; but to Tom Canty they were
as if they had not been. He neither saw nor heard.
Royalty had lost its grace and sweetness ; its pomps
were become a reproach. Remorse was eating his
heart out. He said» ** Would God I were free of
my captivity I"

He had unconsciously dropped back into the
phraseology of the first days of his compulsory
greatness.

The shining pageant still, went winding like a
radiant and interminable serpent down the crooked
lanes of the quaint old city, and through the huzza-
ing hosts ; but still the king rode with bowed head
and vacant eyes, seeing only his mother's face and
that wounded look in it.

** Largess, largess!'' The cry fell upon an un-
heeding ear.

*' Long live Edward of England !" It seemed as
if the earth shook with the explosion ; but there was
no response from the kiiig. He heard it only as
one hears the thunder of the surf when it is blown
to the ear out of a great distance, for it was smoth-
ered under another sound which was still nearer, in
his own breast, in his accusing conscience, — a voice
which kept repeating those shameful words, ** I do
not know you, woman !"

The Prince and the Pauper 27S

The words smote upon the king's soul as the
strokes of a funeral bell smite upon the soul of a
surviving friend when they remind him of secret
treacheries suffered at his hands by him that is
gone.

New glories were unfolded at every turning; new
wonders, new marvels, sprung into view; the pent
clamors of waiting batteries were released ; new rap-
tures poured from the throats of the waiting multi-
tudes ; but the king gave no sign, and the accusing
voice that went moaning through his comfortless
breast was all the sound he heard.

By and by the gladness in the faces of the popu-
lace changed a little, and became touched with a
something like solicitude or anxiety ; an abatement
in the volume of applause was observable too. The
Lord Protector was quick to notice these things ; he
was as quick to detect the cause. He spurred to
the king's side, bent low in his saddle, uncovered,
and said :

** My liege, it is an ill time for dreaming. The
people observe thy downcast head, thy clouded
mien, and they take it for an omen. Be advised;
unveil the sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these
boding vapors, and disperse them. Lift up thy face,
and smile upon the people."

So saying, the duke scattered a handful of coins
to right and left, then retired to his place. The
mock king did mechanically as he had been bidden.
His smile had no heart in it, but few eyes were near

R

276 The Prince and the Pauper

enough or sharp enough to detect that. The nod-
dings of his plumed head as he saluted his subjects
were full of g^ace and graciousness ; the largess
which he delivered from his hand was royally
liberal; so the people's anxiety vanished , and the
acclamations burst forth again in as mighty a volume
as before.

Still once more, a little before the progress was
ended, the duke was obliged to ride forward, and
make remonstrance. He whispered :

•* O dread sovereign ! shake off these fatal humors ;
the eyes of the world are upon thee.*' Then he
added with sharp annoyance, ** Perdition catch that
crazy pauper ! 'twas she that hath disturbed your
Highness."

The gorgeous figure turned a lusterless eye upon
the duke, and said in a dead voice :

** She was my mother !"

* • My God ! ' * groaned the Protector as he reined
his horse backward to his post, ' * the omen was
pregnant with prophecy. He is gone mad again ! ' '

CHAPTER XXXII.

CORONATION DAY

LET US go backward a few hours, and place our-
selves in Westminster Abbey, at four o'clock
in the morning of this memorable Coronation Day.
We are not without company; for although it is
still night, we find the torch-lighted galleries already
filling up with people who are well content to sit
still and wait seven or eight hours till the time shall
come for them to see what they may not hope to see
twice in their lives — the coronation of a king. Yes,
London and Westminster have been astir ever since
the warning guns boomed at three o'clock, and
already crowds of untitled rich folk who have bought
the privilege of trying to find sitting-room in the
galleries are flocking in at the entrances reserved for
their sort.

The hours drag along, tediously enough. All
stir has ceased for some time, for every gallery has
long ago been packed. We may sit now, and look
and think at our leisure. We have glimpses, here
and there and yonder, through the dim cathedral
twilight, of portions of many galleries and balconies,

(277)

278 The Prince and the Pauper

wedged full with people, the other portions of these
galleries and balconies being cut off from sight by
intervening pillars and architectural projections. We
have in view the whole of the great north transept —
emptyy and waiting for England's privileged ones.
We see also the ample area or platform, carpeted
with rich stuffs, whereon the throne stands. The
throne occupies the center of the platform, and is
raised above it upon an elevation of four steps.
Within the seat of the throne is enclosed a rough flat
rock — the stone of Scone — which many genera-
tions of Scottish kings sat on to be crowned, and so
it in time became holy enough to answer a like pur-
pose for English monarchs. Both the throne and
its footstool are covered with cloth of gold.

Stillness reigns, the torches blink dully, the time
drags heavily. But at last the lagging daylight
asserts itself, the torches are extinguished, and a
mellow radiance suffuses the great spaces. All
features of the noble building are distinct now, but
soft and dreamy, for the sun is lightly veiled with

clouds.

At seven o'clock the first break in the drowsy

monotony occurs; for on the stroke of this hour
the first peeress enters the transept, clothed like
Solomon for splendor, and is conducted to her ap-
pointed place by an official clad in satins and vel-
vets, whilst a duplicate of him gathers up the lady's
long train, follows after, and, when the lady is
seated, arranges the train across her lap for her.

The Pnnce and the Pauper 279

He then places her footstool according to her desire»
after which he puts her coronet where it will be con-
venient to her hand when the time for the simul-
taneous coronetting of the nobles shall arrive.

By this time the peeresses are flowing in in a
glittering stream » and satin-clad officials are flitting
and glinting everywhere, seating them and making
them comfortable. The scene is animated enough
now. There is stir and life, and shifting color
everywhere. After a time, quiet reigns again; for
the peeresses are all come, and are all in their places
• — a solid acre, or such a matter, of human flowers,
resplendent in variegated colors, and frosted like a
Milky Way with diamonds. There are all ages
here: brown, wrinkled, white-haired dowagers who
are able to go back, and still back, down the stream
of time, and recall the crowning of Richard III. and
the troublous days of that old forgotten age ; and
there are handsome middle-aged dames ; and lovely
and gracious young matrons ; and gentle and beau-
tiful young girls, with beaming eyes and fresh com-
plexions, who may possibly put on their jeweled
coronets awkwardly when the g^eat time comes ; for
the matter will be new to them, and their excitement
will be a sore hindrance. Still, this may not hap-
pen, for the hair of all these ladies has been arranged
with a special view to the swift and successful lodg-
ing of the crown in its place when the signal comes.

We have seen that this massed array of peeresses
is sown thick with diamonds, and we also see that it

280 The Prince and the Pauper

Is a marvelous spectacle — but now we are about to
be astonished in earnest. About nine, the clouds
suddenly break away and a shaft of sunshine cleaves
the mellow atmosphere, and drifts slowly along the
ranks of ladies ; and every rank it touches flames
into a dazzling splendor of many-colored fires, and
we tingle to our finger-tips with the electric thrill
that is shot through us by the surprise and the
beauty of the spectacle ! Presently a special envoy
from some distant comer of the Orient, marching
with the general body of foreign ambassadors,
crosses this bar of sunshine, and we catch our
breath, the glory that streams and flashes and pal-
pitates about him is so overpowering; for he is
crusted from head to heels with gems, and his
slightest movement showers a dancing radiance all
around him.

Let us change the tense for convenience. The
time drifted along, — one hour — two hours — two
hours and a half ; then the deep booming of artillery
told that the king and his grand procession had
arrived at last; so the waiting multitude rejoiced.
All knew that a further delay must follow, for the
king must be prepared and robed for the solemn
ceremony; but this delay would be pleasantly occu-
pied by the assembling of the peers of the realm in
their stjitely robes. These were conducted cere-
moniously to their seats, and their coronets placed
conveniently at hand ; and meanwhile the multitude
in the galleries were alive with interest, for most of

The Prince and the Pauper 281

them were beholding for the first time, dukes, earls,
and barons, whose names had been historical for five
hundred years. When all were finally seated, the
spectacle from the galleries and all coigns of vantage
was complete ; a gorgeous one to look upon and to
remember.

Now the robed and mitred great heads of the
church, and their attendants, filed in upon the plat-
form and took their appointed places; these were
followed by the Lord Protector and other great
officials, and these again by a steel-clad detachment
of the Guard.

There was a waiting pause; then, at a signal, a
triumphant peal of music burst forth, and Tom
Canty, clothed in a long robe of cloth of gold, ap-
peared at a door, and stepped upon the platform.
The entire multitude rose, and the ceremony of the
Recognition ensued.

Then a noble anthem swept the Abbey with its
rich waves of sound; and thus heralded and wel-
comed, Tom Canty was conducted to the throne.
The ancient ceremonies went on with impressive
solemnity, whilst the audience gazed ; and as they
drew nearer and nearer to completion, Tom Canty
grew pale, and still paler, and a deep and steadily
deepening woe and despondency settled down upon
his spirits and upon his remorseful heart.

At last the final act was at hand. The Arch-
bishop of Canterbury lifted up the crown of Eng-
land from its cushion and held it out over the trem-

282 The Prince and the Pauper

bling mock king's head. In the same instant a
rainbow-radiance flashed along the spacious tran-
sept; for with one impulse every individual in the
great concourse of nobles lifted a coronet and poised
it over his or her head, — and paused in that attitude.

A deep hush pervaded the Abbey. At this im-
pressive moment, a startling apparition intruded
upon the scene — an apparition observed by none
in the absorbed multitude, until it suddenly ap-
peared, moving up the great central aisle. It was a
boy, bareheaded, ill shod, and clothed in coarse
plebeian garments that were falling to rags. He
raised his hand with a solemnity which ill comported
with his soiled and sorry aspect, and delivered this
note of warning:

'* I forbid you to set the crown of England upon
that forfeited head. / am the king !"

In an instant several indignant hands were laid
upon the boy ; but in the same instant Tom Canty,
in his regal vestments, made a swift step forward
and cried out in a ringing voice :

** Loose him and forbear ! He is the king !"

A sort of panic of astonishment swept the assem-
blage, and they partly rose in their places and stared
in a bewildered way at one another and at the chief
figures in this scene, like persons who wondered
whether they were awake and in their senses, or
asleep and dreaming. The Lord Protector was as
amazed as the rest, but quickly recovered himself
and exclaimed in a voice of authority :

The Prince and the Pauper 28)

** Mind not his Majesty, hi? malady is upon him
again — seize the vagabond I "

He would have been obeyed, but the mock king
stamped his foot and cried out:

** On your peril I Touch him not, he is the
king!"

The hands were withheld; a paralysis fell upon
the house; no one moved, no one spoke; indeed,
no one knew how to act or what to say, in so strange
and surprising an emergency. While all minds were
struggling to right themselves, the boy still moved
steadily forward, with high port and confident mien;
he had never halted from the beginning; and while
the tangled minds still floundered helplessly, he
stepped upon the platform, and the mock king ran
with a glad face to meet him ; and fell on his knees
before him and said :

•• O, my lord the king, let poor Tom Canty be
first to swear fealty to thee, and say * Put on thy
crown and enter into thine own again I' "

The Lord Protector's eye fell sternly upon the
newcomer's face; but straightway the sternness van-
ished away, and gave place to an expression of
wondering surprise. This thing happened also to
the other great officers. They glanced at each
other, and retreated a step by a common and un-
conscious impulse. The thought in each mind was
the same : ' ' What a strange resemblance ! ' *

The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in
perplexity, then he said, with grave respectfulness:

284 The Prince and the Pauper

««

By your favor, sir, I desire to ask certain ques-
tions which — "

** I will answer them, my lord."

The duke asked him many questions about the
court, the late king, the prince, the princesses. The
boy answered them correctly and without hesitating.
He described the rooms of state in the palace, the
late king's apartments, and those of the Prince of
Wales.

It was strange ; it was wonderful ; yes, it was un-
accountable — so all said that heard it. The tide
was beginning to turn, and Tom Canty's hopes to
run high, when the Lord Protector shook his head
and said :

** It is true it is most wonderful — but it is no
more than our lord the king likewise can do." This
remark, and this reference to himself as still the
king, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his hopes
crumbling from under him. ** These are not proofs,**
added the Protector.

The tide was turning very fast now, very fast,
indeed — but in the wrong direction ; it was leaving
poor Tom Canty stranded on the throne, and sweep-
ing the other out to sea. The Lord Protector com-
muned with himself — shook his head — the thought
forced itself upon him, ** It is perilous to the State
and to us all, to entertain so fateful a riddle as this ;
it could divide the nation and undermine the
throne." He turned and said:

**Sir Thomas, arrest this — No, hold!" His

The Prince and the Pauper 285

face lighted, and he confronted the ragged candi-
date with this question :

** Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this
truly, and the riddle is unriddled ; for only he that
was Prince of Wales can so answer ! On so trivial a
thing hang a throne and a dynasty ! ' *

It was a lucky thought, a happy thought. That
it was so considered by the great officials was mani-
fested by the silent applause that shot from eye to
eye around their circle in the form of bright approv-
ing glances. Yes, none but the true prince could
dissolve the stubborn mystery of the vanished Great
Seal — this forlorn little impostor had been taught
his lesson well, but here his teaching's must fail, for
his teacher himself could not answer that question —
ah, very good, very good indeed: now we shall be
rid of this troublesome and perilous business in short
order! And so they nodded invisibly and smiled
inwardly with satisfaction, and looked to see this
foolish lad stricken with a palsy of guilty confusion.
How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of
the sort happen — how they marveled to hear him
an.swer up promptly, in a confident and untroubled
voice, and say:

•* There is nought in this riddle that is difficult."
Then, without so much as a by-your-leave to any-
body, he turned and gave this command, with the
easy manner of one accustomed to doing such
things: ** My Lord St. John, go you to my private
cabinet in the palace — for none knoweth the place

»9

286 The Prince and the Pauper

better than you — and, close down to the floor, in
the left corner remotest from the door that opens
from the antechamber, you shall find in the wall a
brazen nail-head; press upon it and a little jewel-
closet will fly open which not even you do know of
-^no, nor any soul else in all the world but me
and the trusty artisan that did contrive it for me.
The flrst thing that falleth under your eye will be
the Great Seal — fetch it hither."

All the oompany wondered at this speech, and
wondered still more to see the little mendicant pick
out this peer without hesitancy or apparent fear of
mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly
convincing air of having known him all his life. The
peer was almost surprised into obeying. He even
made a movement as if to go, but quickly recovered
his tranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with
a blush. Tom Canty turned upon him and said,
sharply :

' * Why dost thou hesitate ? Hast not heard the
king's command ? Go ! "

The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance — and
it was observed that it was a signiflcantly cautious
and non-committal one, it 'not being delivered at
either of the kings, but at the neutral ground about
half way between the two — and took his leave.

Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles
of that oflicial group which was slow, scarcely per-
ceptible, and yet steady and persistent — a move-
ment such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is

The Prince and the Pauper 287^

turned slowly, whereby the components of one
splendid cluster fall away and join themselves to^
another — a movement which, little by little, in the
present case, dissolved the glittering crowd that
stood about Tom Canty and clustered it together
again in the neighborhood of the newcomer. Tom
Canty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief
season of deep suspense and waiting— during which
even the few faint-hearts still remaining near Tom
Canty gradually scraped together courage enough to
glide, one by one, over to the majority. So at last
Tom Canty, in his royal robes and jewels, stood
wholly alone and isolated from the world, a con-
spicuous figure, occupying an eloquent vacancy.

Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As
he advanced up the mid-aisle the interest was so
intense that the low murmur of conversation in the
great assemblage died out and was succeeded by a
profound hush, a breathless stillness, through which
his footfalls pulsed with a dull and distant sound.
Every eye was fastened upon him as he moved
along. He reached the platform, paused a moment,
then moved toward Tom Canty with a deep obei-
sance, and said :

•• Sire, the Seal is not there !*'

A mob does not melt away from the presence of
a plague-patient with more haste than the band of
pallid and terrified courtiers melted away from the
presence of the shabby little claimant of the Crown.
In a moment he stood all alone, without friend or

288 The Prince and the Pauper

supporter, a target upon which was concentrated a
bitter fire of scornful and angry looks. The Lord
Protector called out fiercely :

" Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him
through the town — the paltry knave is worth no
more consideration ! ' '

Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but
Tom Canty waved them off and said :

** Back ! Whoso touches him perils his life !"

The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last
degree. He said to the Lord St. John :

•* Searched you well? — but it boots not to ask
that. It doth seem passing strange. Little things,
trifles, slip out of one's ken, and one does not think
it matter for surprise ; but how a so bulky thing as
the Seal of England can vanish away and no man
be able to get track of it again — a massy golden
disk—"

Tom Canty, with beaming eyes, sprang forward
and shouted :

"Hold, that is enough! Was it round? — and
thick? — and had it letters and devices graved upon
it? — Yes? Oh, now I know what this Great
Seal is that there's been such worry and pother
about! An' ye had described it to me, ye could
have had it three weeks ago. Right well I know
where it lies ; but it was not I that put it there —
first."

"Who, then, my liege?" asked the Lord Pro-
tector.

The Prince and the Pauper 289

** He that stands there — the rightful king of Eng-
land. And he shall tell you himself where it lies —
then you will believe he knew it of his own knowl«
edge. Bethink thee, my king — spur thy memory
— it was the last, the very last thing thou didst that
day before thou didst rush forth from the palace,
clothed in my rags, to punish the soldier that in-
sulted me."

A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or
a whisper, and all eyes were fixed upon the new->
comer, who stood, with bent head and corrugated
brow, groping in his memory among a thronging
multitude of valueless recollections for one single
little elusive fact, which found, would seat him upon
a throne — unfound, would leave him as he was, for
good and all — a pauper and an outcast. Moment
after moment passed — the moments built them-
selves into minutes — still the boy struggled silently
on, and gave no sign. But at last he heaved a sigh,
shook his head slowly, and said, with a trembling
lip and in a despondent voice :

'* I call the scene back — all of it — but the Seal
hath no place in it." He paused, then looked up,
and said with gentle dignity, " My lords and gentle-
men, if ye wiU rob your rightful sovereign of his
own for lack of this evidence which he is not able
to furnish, X may not stay ye, being powerless.
But—"

• • O folly, O madness^ my Idng ! ' ' cried Tom

Canty, in a panic, "wait I — think 1 Do not give
19

290 The Prince and the Pauper

up ! — Uie cause is not lost ! Nor shall be, neither !
List to what I say — follow every word — I am
going to bring that morning back again, every hap
just as it happened. We talked — I told you of my
sisters, Nan and Bet — ah, yes, you remember that;
and about mine old grandam — and the rough games
of the lads of Offal Court — yes, you remember
these things also; very well, follow me still, you
shall recall everything. You gave me food and
drink, and did with princely courtesy send away the
servants, so that my low breeding might not shame
me before them — ah, yes, this also you remember. * '

As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy
nodded his head in recognition of them, the great
audience and the officials stared in puzzled wonder-
ment; the tale sounded like true history, yet how
could this impossible conjunction between a prince
and a beggar boy have come about? Never was a
company of people so perplexed, so interested, and
so stupefied, before.

**For a jest, my prince, we did exchange gar-
ments. Then we stood before a mirror; and so
alike were we that both said it seemed as if there
had been no change made — yes, you remember
that. Then you noticed , that the soldier had hurt
my hand — look! here it is, I cannot yet even write
with it, the fingers are so stiff. At this your High-
ness sprang up, vowing vengeance upon that soldier,
and ran toward the door — you passed a table —
that thing you call the Seal lay on that table — you

CI

The Prince and the Pauper 291

snatched it up and looked eagerly about, as if for a
place to hide it — your eye caught sight of — "

"There, 'tis sufficient! — and the dear God be
thanked!" exclaimed the ragged claimant, in a
mighty excitement. ** Go, my good St. John, — in
an arm-piece of the Milanese armor that hangs on
the wall, thou'lt find the Seal !"

Right, my king! right!" cried Tom Canty;

now the scepter of England is thine own ; and it
were better for him that would dispute it that he had
been born dumb ! Go, my Lord St. John, give thy
feet wings ! * *

The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and
well nigh out of its mind with uneasiness, apprehen-
sion, and consuming excitement. On the floor and
on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic conver-
sation burst forth, and for some time nobody knew
anything or heard anything or was interested in any-
thing but what his neighbor was shouting into his
ear, or he was shouting into his neighbor's far.
Time — nobody knew how much of it — swept by
unheeded and unnoted. At last a sudden hush fell
upon the house, and in the same moment St. John
appeared upon the platform and held the Great Seal
aloft in his hand. Then such a shout went up !

" Long live the true king!"

For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and

the crash of musical instruments, and was white

with a storm of waving handkerchiefs ; and through

it all a ragged lad, the most conspicuous figure in
s

292 The Prince and the Pauper

England, stood, flushed and happy and proud, in
the center of the spacious platform, with the great
vassals of the kingdom kneeling around him.

Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out:

** Now, O my king, take these regal garments
back, and give poor Tom, thy servant, his shreds
and remnants again."

The Lord Protector spoke up :

' ' Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into
the Tower.'*

But the new king, the true king, said :

" I will not have it so. But for him I had not
got my crown again — none shall lay a hand upon
him to harm him. And as for thee, my good uncle,
my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is not
grateful toward this poor lad, for I hear he hath
made thee a duke " — the Protector blushed — ** yet
he was not a king; wherefore, what is thy fine title
worth now? To-morrow you shall sue to me,
through him, for its confirmation, else no duke, but
a simple earl, shalt thou remain."

Under this rebuke, his grace the Duke of Somer-
set, retired a little from the front for the moment.
The king turned to Tom, and said, kindly:

" My poor boy, how was it that you could re-
member where I hid the Seal when I could not
remember it myself?"

"Ah, my king, that was easy, since I used it
divers days."

•* Used it, — yet could not explain where it was?"

The Prince and the Pauper 293

'• I did not know it was that they wanted. They
did not describe it, your majesty."

*' Then how used you it?"

The red blood began to steal up into Tom's
cheeks, and he dropped his eyes and was silent.

"Speak up, good lad, and fear nothing," said
the king. ** How used you the Great Seal of Eng-
land?"

Tom stammered a moment, in a pathetic confu-
sion, then got it out:

*• To crack nuts with !"

Poor child, the avalanche of laughter that greeted
this, nearly swept him off his feet. But if a doubt
remained in any mind that Tom Canty was not the
king of England and familiar with the august ap*
purtenances of royalty, this reply disposed of it
uttterly.

Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been
removed from Tom's shoulders to the king's, whose
rags were effectually hidden from sight under it.
Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed ; the
true king was anointed and the crown set upon his
head, whilst cannon thundered the news to the city,
and all London seemed to rock with applause.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

EDWARD AS KING

MILES HENDON was picturesque enough before
he got into the riot on London Bridge — he
was more so when he got out of it. He had but
little money when he got in, none at all when he
got out. The pickpockets had stripped him of his
last farthing.

But no matter, so he found his boy. Being a
soldier, he did not go at his task in a random way,
but set to work, first of all, to arrange his campaign.

What would the boy naturally do ? Where would
he naturally go? Well — argued Miles — he would
naturally go to his former haunts, for that is the
instinct of unsound minds, when homeless and for-
saken, as well as of sound ones. Whereabouts were
his former haunts? His rags, taken together with
the low villain who seemed to know him and who
even claimed to be his father, indicated that his
home was in one or another of the poorest and
meanest districts of London. Would the search for
him be difficult, or long? No, it was likely to be
easy and brief. He would not hunt for the boy, he

(294)

The Prince and the Pauper 295

would hunt for a crowd; in the center of a big
crowd or a little one, sooner or later, he should find
his poor little friend, sure; and the mangy mob
would be entertaining itself with pestering and aggra-
vating the boy, who would be proclaiming himself
king, as usual. Then Miles Hendon would cripple
some of those people, and carry off his little ward,
and comfort and cheer him with loving words, and
the two would never be separated any more.

So Miles started on his quest. Hour after hour
he tramped through back alleys and squalid streets,
seeking groups and crowds, and finding no end of
them, but never any sign of the boy. This greatly
surprised him, but did not discourage him. To his
notion, there was nothing the matter with his plan of
campaign ; the only miscalculation about it was that
the campaign was becoming a lengthy one, whereas
he had expected it to be short.

When daylight arrived at last, he had made many
a mile, and canvassed many a crowd, but the only
result was that he was tolerably tired, rather hungry,
and very sleepy. He wanted some breakfast, but
there was no way to get it. To beg for it did not
occur to him; as to pawning his sword, he would as
soon have thought of parting with his honor; he
could spare some of his clothes — yes, but one
could as easily find a customer for a disease as for
such clothes.

At noon he was still tramping — among the rabble
which followed after the royal procession now ; for he

'^^

296 The Prince and the Pauper

argued that this regal display would attract his little
lunatic powerfully. He followed the pageant through
all its devious windings about London, and all the
way to Westminster and the Abbey. He drifted here
and there among the multitudes that were massed in
the vicinity for a weary long time, baffled and per-
plexed, and finally wandered off thinking, and trying
to contrive some way to better his plan of campaign.
By and by, when he came to himself out of his
musings, he discovered that the town was far behind
him and that the day was growing, old. He was
near the river, and in the country ; it was a region
of fine rural seats — not the sort of district to wel-
come clothes like his.

It was not at all cold ; so he stretched himself on
the ground in the lee of a hedge to rest and think.
Drowsiness presently began to settle upon his
senses; the faint and far-off boom of cannon was
wafted to his ear, and he said to himself ** The new
king is crowned," and straightway fell asleep. He
had not slept or rested, before, for more than thirty
hours. He did not wake again until near the middle
of the next morning.

He got up, lame, stiff, and half famished, washed
himself in the river, stayed his stomach with a pint
or two of water, and trudged off toward Westminster
grumbling at himself for having wasted so much
time. Hunger helped him to a new plan how; he
would try to get speech with old Sir Humphrey
Marlow and borrow a few marks, and — but that

The Prince and the Pauper 297

was enough of a plan for the present ; it would be
time enough to enlarge it when this first stage should
be accomplished.

Toward eleven o'clock he approached the palace;
and although a host of showy people were about
him, moving in the same direction, he was not in*
conspicuous — his costume took care of that. He
watched these people's faces narrowly, hoping to
find a charitable one whose possessor might be will-
ing to carry his name to the old lieutenant — as to
trying to get into the palace himself, that was simply
out of the question.

Presently our whipping-boy passed him, then
wheeled about and scanned his figure well, saying
to himself, ** An' that is not the very vagabond his
majesty is in such a worry about, then am I an ass —
though belike I was that before. He answereth the
description to a rag — that God should make two
such, would be to cheapen miracles, by wasteful
repetition. I would I could contrive an excuse to
speak with him."

Miles Hendon saved him the trouble; for he
turned about, then, as a man generally will when
somebody mesmerizes him by gazing hard at him
from behind ; and observing a strong interest in the
boy's eyes, he stepped toward him and said :

"You have just come out from the palace; do
you belong there?"

Yes, your worship."

Know you Sir Humphrey Marlow?'*

298 The Prince and the Pauper

The boy started, and said to himself, "Lord I
mine old departed father!" Then he answered ,
aloud, ** Right well, your worship."
•* Good — is he within?"

Yes," said the boy; and added, to himself ,
within his grave."

Might I crave your favor to carry my name to
him, and say I beg to say a word in his ear?"

I will dispatch the business right willingly, fair

« t
<«

<«
»»

sir.

Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is
here without — I shall be greatly bounden to you,
my good lad."

The boy looked disappointed — **the king did
not name him so," he said to himself — ** but it mat-
tereth not, this is his twin brother, and can give
his majesty news of 'tother Sir-Odds-and-Ends,
I warrant." So he said to Miles, "Step in there
a moment, good sir, and wait till I bring you
word."

Hendon retired to the place indicated — it was a
recess sunk in the palace wall, with a stone bench
in it — a shelter for sentinels in bad weather. He
had hardly seated himself when some halberdiers, in
charge of an officer, passed by. The officer saw
him, halted his men, and commanded Hendon to
come forth. He obeyed, and was promptly arrested
as a suspicious character prowling within the pre*
cincts of the palace. Things began to look ugly.
Poor Miles was going to explain, but the officer

The Prince and the Pauper 299

roughly silenced him, and ordered his men to dis-
arm him and search him.

* * God of his mercy grant that they find some-
what," said poor Miles; "I have searched enow,
and failed, yet is my need greater than theirs."

Nothing was found but a document. The officer
tore it open, and Hendon smiled when he recog-
nized the * ' pot-hooks ' * made by his lost little friend
that black day at Hendon Hall. The officer's face
grew dark as he read the English paragraph, and
Miles blenched to the opposite color as he listened.

"Another new claimant of the crown!" cried
the officer. ** Verily they breed like rabbits to-day.
Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep him fast
while I convey this precious paper within and send
it to the king."

He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip
of the halberdiers.

••Now is my evil luck ended at last," muttered
Hendon, *' for I shall dangle at a rope's end for a
certainty, by reason of that bit of writing. And
what will become of my poor lad ! — ah, only the
good God knoweth."

By and by he saw the officer coming again, in a
great hurry; so he plucked his courage together,
purposing to meet his trouble as became a man.
The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner
and return his sword to him ; then bowed respect*
fully, and said :

** Please you, sir, to follow me."

300 The Prince and the Pauper

Hendon followed, saying to himself, ** An' I were
not traveling to death and judgment, and so must
needs economize in sin, I would throttle this knave
for his mock courtesy."

The two traversed a populous court, and arrived
at the grand entrance of the palace, where the
officer, with another bow, delivered Hendon into
the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him
with profound respect and led him forward through
a great hall, lined on both sides with rows of splen-
did flunkies (who made reverential obeisance as
the two passed along, but fell into death-throes of
silent laughter at our stately scarecrow the moment
his back was turned), and up a broad staircase,
among flocks of fine folk, and Anally conducted him
to a vast room, clove a passage for him through
the assembled nobility of England, then made a
bow, reminded him to take his hat off, and left him
standing in the middle of the room, a mark for all
eyes, for plenty of indignant frowns, and for a suf-
ficiency of amused and derisive smiles.

Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered. There
sat the young king, under a canopy of state, five
steps away, with his head bent down and aside,
speaking with a sort of human bird of paradise — a
duke, maybe; Hendon observed to himself that it
was hard enough to be sentenced to death in the
full vigor of life, without having this peculiarly
public humiliation added. He wished the king
would hurry about it — some of the gaudy people

The Prince and the Pauper 301

near by were becoming pretty offensive. At this
moment the king raised his head slightly and
Hendon caught a good view of his face. The sight
nearly took his breath away ! He stood gazing at
the fair young face like one transfixed ; then pres-
ently ejaculated :

" Lo, the lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and
Shadows on his throne 1''

He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing
and marveling; then turned his eyes around and
about, scanning the gorgeous throng and the splen-
did saloon, murmuring ** But these are real — verily
these are real — surely it is not a dream."

He stared at the king again — and thought, "/r

it a dream? or tf he the veritable sovereign of

England, and not the friendless poor Tom o' Bed-
lam I took him for — who shall solve me this
riddle?"

A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode
to the wall, gathered up a chair, brought it back,
planted it on the floor, and sat down in it I

A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand
was laid upon him, and a voice exclaimed:

**Up, thou mannerless clown! — wouldst sit in
the presence of the king?"

The disturbance attracted his majesty's attentioni
who stretched forth his hand and cried out:

*• Touch him not, it is his right!"

The throng fell back, stupefied. The king went
on:

to

302 The Prince and the Pauper

"Learn ye all, ladies, lords and gentlemen, that
this is my trusty and well-beloved servant, Miles
Hendon, who interposed his good sword and saved
his prince from bodily harm and possible death —
and for this he is a knight, by the king's voice.
Also learn, that for a higher service, in that he
saved his sovereign stripes and shame, taking these
upon himself, he is a peer of England, Earl of Kent,
and shall have gold and lands meet for the dig-
nity. More — the privilege which he hath just exer-
cised is his by royal grant; for we have ordained
that the chiefs of his line shall have and hold the
right to sit in the presence of the majesty of Eng-
land henceforth, age after age, so long as the crown
shall endure. Molest him not."

Two persons, who, through delay, had only ar-
rived from the country during this morning, and had
now been in this room only five minutes, stood
listening to these words and looking at the king,
then at the scarecrow, then at the king again, in a
sort of torpid bewilderment. These were Sir Hugh
and the Lady Edith. But the new earl did not see
them. He was still staring at the monarch, in a
dazed way, and muttering:

** Oh, body o* me! This my pauper! This my
lunatic! This is he whom / would show what
grandeur was, in my house of seventy rooms and
seven and twenty servants! This is he who had
never known aught but rags for raiment, kicks for
comfort, and offal for diet! This is he whom /

The Prince and the Pauper 303

adopted and would make respectable ! Would God
I had a bag to hide my head in T'

Then his manners suddenly came back to him,
and he dropped upon his knees, with his hands
between the king's, and swore allegiance and did
homage for his lands and titles. Then he rose and
stood respectfully aside, a mark still for all eyes —
and much envy, too.

Now the king discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke
out, with wrathful voice and kindling eye :

' ' Strip this robber of his false show and stolen
estates, and put him under lock and key till I have
need of him.*'

The late Sir Hugh was led away.

There was a stir at the other end of the room
now; the assemblage fell apart, and Tom Canty,
quaintly but richly clothed, marched down, between
these living walls, preceded by an usher. He knelt
before the king, who said :

** I have learned the story of these past few
weeks, and am well pleased with thee. Thou hast
governed the realm with right royal gentleness and
mercy. Thou hast found thy mother and thy sisters
again? Good; they shall be cared for — and thy
father shall hang, if thou desire it and the law con-
sent. Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from
this day, they that abide in the shelter of Christ's
Hospital and share the king's bounty, shall have their
minds and hearts fed, as well as their baser parts;
and this boy shall dwell there, and hold the chief

304 The Prince and the Pauper

place in its honorable body of governors, during
life. And for that he hath been a king, it is meet
that other than common observance shall be his due ;
wherefore, note this his dress of state, for by it he
shall be known, and none shall copy it; and where-i
soever he shall come, it shall remind the people that
he hath been royal, in his time, and none shall deny
him his due of reverence or fail to give him saluta-
tion. He hath the throne's protection, he hath the
crown's support, he shall be known and called by
the honorable title of the King's Ward."

The proud and happy Tom Canty rose and kissed
the king's hand, and was conducted from the pres-
ence. He did not waste any time, but flew to his
mother, to tell her and Nan and Bet all about it and
get them to help him enjoy the great news.*

* See Notes to Chapter 33, at end of the volmne*

CONCLUSION

JUSTICE AND RETRIBUTION

«

WHEN the mysteries were all cleared up, it came
out, by confession of Hugh Hendon, that his
wife had repudiated Miles by his command that day
at Hendon Hall — a command assisted and sup-
ported by the perfectly trustworthy promise that if
she did not deny that he was Miles Hendon, and
stand firmly to it, he would have her life ; where-
upon she said take it, she did not value it — and she
would not repudiate Miles ; then the husband said
he would spare her life, but have Miles assassinated !
This was a different matter ; so she gave her word
and kept it.

Hugh was not prosecuted for his threats or for
stealing his brother's estates and title, because the
wife aiid brother would not testify against him —
and the former would not have been allowed to do
it, even if she had wanted to. Hugh deserted his
wife and went over to the continent, where he pres-
ently died ; and by and by the Earl of Kent married
his relict ^ There were grand times and rejoicings at
Hendon village when the couple paid their first visit
to the Hall.

20 (305)

506 The Prince and the Pauper

Tom Canty' s father was never heard of again.

The king sought out the farmer who had been
branded and sold as a slave, and reclaimed him from
his evil life with the Ruffler's gang, and put him in
the way of a comfortable livelihood.

He also took thaf old lawyer out of prison and
remitted his fine. He provided good homes for the
daughters of the two Baptist women whom he saw
burned at the stake, and roundly punished the
official who laid the undeserved stripes upon Miles
Hendon's back.

He saved from the gallows the boy who had
captured the stray falcon, and also the woman who
had stolen a remnant of cloth from a weaver; but
he was too late to save the man who had been con-
victed of killing a deer in the royal forest.

He showed favor to the justice who had pitied
him when he was supposed to have stolen a pig, and
he had the gratification of seeing him grow in the
public esteem and become a great and honored man.

As long as the king lived he was fond of telling
the story of his adventures, all through, from the
hour that the sentinel cuffed him' away from the
palace gate till the final midnight when he deftly
mixed himself into a gang of hurrying workmen and
so slipped into the Abbey and climbed up and hid
himself in the Confessor's tomb, and then slept so
long, next day, that he came within one of missing
the Coronation altogether. He said that the fre-
quent rehearsing of the precious lesson kept him

The Prince and the Pauper 307

strong in his purpose to make its teachings yield
benefits to his people; and so, while his life was
spared he should continue to tell the story, and thus
keep its sorrowful spectacles fresh in his memory
and the springs of pity replenished in his heart.

Miles Hendon and Tom Canty were favorites of
the king, all through his brief reign, and his sincere
mourners when he died. The good Earl of Kent
had too much good sense to abuse his peculiar
privilege ; but he exercised it twice after the instance
we have seen of it before he was called from the
world; once at the accession of Queen Mary, and
once at the accession of Queen Elizabeth. A de^
scendant of his exercised it at the accession of James
I. Before this one's son chose to use the privilege,
near a quarter of a century had elapsed, and the
"privilege of the Kents'* had faded out of most
people's memories; so, when the Kent of that day
appeared before Charles I. and his court and sat down
in the sovereign's presence to assert and perpetuate
the right of his house, there was a fine stir, indeed !
But the matter was soon explained and the right
confirmed. The last earl of the line fell in the wars
of the Commonwealth fighting for the king, and the
odd privilege ended with him.

Tom Canty lived to be a very old man, a hand-
some, white-haired old fellow, of grave and benignant
aspect. As long as he lasted he was honored ; and
he was also reverenced, for his striking and peculiar
costume kept the people reminded that ' ' in his time

T

308 The Pnnce and the Pauper

he had been royal;'* so, wherever he appeared the
crowd fell apart, making way for him, and whisper
ing, one to another, " Doff thy hat, it is the King's
Ward!" — and so they saluted, and got his kindly
smile in return — and they valued it, too, for hi&
was an honorable history.

Yes, King Edward VI. lived only a few years,
poor boy, but he lived them worthily. More than
once, when some great dignitary, some gilded vassal
of the crown, made argument against his leniency,
and urged that some law which he was bent upon
amending was gentle enough for its purpose, and
wrought no suffering or oppression which any one
need mightily mind, the young king turned the
mournful eloquence of his great compassionate eyes
upon him and answered :

"What dost thou know of suffering and oppres-
sion? I and my people know, but not thou."

The reign of Edward VI. was a singularly merci-
ful one for those harsh times. Now that we are
taking leave of him let us try to keep this in our
minds, to his credit.

NOTES

MoiB I — Fagb 37

Ckrisft Hoi^Ual Cashtme

It is most reasonable to r^ard the dress as copied from the oostome
of the citizens of London of that period, when long blue coats were the
common habit of apprentices and serving-men, and yellow stockings were
generally worn; the coat fits closely to the body, but has loose sleeves, and
beneath is worn a sleeveless yellow under-coat; around the waist is a
red leathern girdle; a clerical band around the neck, and a small flat
black cap, about the sise of a saucer, completes the costume. — Timbs^
**CuriosiiUs of London,*^

NOTB 2 — P^ 40

It appears that Christ's Hospital was not originally founded as a
school; its object was to rescue children from the streets, to shdter, feed,
clothe them, etc — Timbt^ **CuriosiHes cf London.*

»»

NOTB 3— P^ 50

The Duki cf NorfMs Condemnaium Commanded

Thb King was now approaching fast towards his end; and fearing
lest Norfolk should esci^ him, he sent a message to the Conunons, by
which he desired them to hasten the bill, on pretence that Norfolk en-
joyed the dignity of earl marshal, and it was necessary to appoint
another, who might officiate at the ensuing ceremony of installing his
son Prince of Wales. — Hume^ vol. iii, p. 507.

NoTB 4-— Page 65

It was not till the end of this reign [Henry VIII] that any salads,
cairot% turnips, or other edible roots were produced in England. The

(309)

510 The Prince and the Pauper

UtUe of theie vegetables that was used was formeify impoited fram
Holland and Flanden. Qaeen Catherine, when she wanted a salad,
was obliged to deytch a mesMoger thither on purpose.— ^mnm^
HiOMj tfEt^/famd^ vol. iiit p. 314.

Non 5— Fife Ji

Attainder 9/ Nor/oik

TbB house of peeis, without fniTnining the prisoner, without trial ot
evidence, passed a bill of attainder against him and sent it down to the
commons. • • • The obsequious commons obeyed his [the King's]
directions; and the King, havii^ affixed the royal assent to the bill bgr
commissioners, issued orders for the ezecntion of Norfolk on the mom-
log of the twenty-ninth of Jannaiy [the next day]. — Hmm^s Engtand^
vol* liif p* 3^^

Nois 6— Faoe 87

Tke Loving-Cup

The loving-cnp, and the pecnUar ceremonies observed in drinking
from it, are okler than En^ish histoiy. It is thought that both are
Danish importations. As far back as knowledge goes, the loving-cup
has always been drunk at English banquets. Tradition explains the
ceremonies in this way : in the rude ancient times it was deemed a wise
precaution to have both hands of both drinkers employed, lest while the
pledger pledged his love and 6deiity to the pledgee the pledgee take
that opportunity to slip a dirk into hunt

Nois 7 — Faoe 94

Tke Duke of Norfolk* s Narrow Eteafe

Had Henry VIII survived a few hours longer, his order for the
duke's execution would have been carried into effect. « But news being
carried to the Tower that the King himself had expired that night, the
lieutenant deferred obeying the warrant; and it was not thought advis-
able by the council to begin a new reign by the death of the greatest
nobleman in the Kingdom, who had been condemned by a sentence so
nnjust and tyrannicaL"— ^mm^i Engiand^ vol. iii, p. 307.

The Prince and the Pauper 51I

NoTB 8 — F^ 129

The Whipping-Boy

Jambs I and Charles 11 had whipping-boys when thejr were fitUe
fellowi, to take their punishment for them when they fell short in their
lessons; so I have ventured to furnish my small prince with one, for mf
own pmposes*

NoTBS TO Chaftbr XV — F^[e 149
Character of Hertford

Thb young king discovered an extreme attachment to his unde,
who was, in the main, a man of moderation and probity. — ffum^t
£t^giand, vol. iii, p. 324.

But if he [the Protector] gave offense by assuming too much state,
he deserves great praise on account of the laws passed this session, by
which the rigor of former statutes was much mitigated, and some ie>
curity given to the freedom of the constitution. All laws were repealed
which extended the crime of treason beyond the statute of the twenty-fifth
of Edward III; all laws enacted during the late reign extending the ciiifke
of felony; all the former laws against LoUardy or heresy, together with
the statute of the Six Articles. None were to be accused for words, but
within a month after they were spoken. By these repeals several of the
most rigorous laws that ever had passed in England were annulled; and
some dawn, both of dvil and religious liberty, hegut to appear to the
people. A repeal also passed of that law, the destruction of all laws, by
lAdch the king's proclamation was made of equal force witha statute*
• — I6id,, vol. iii, p. 339.

Boiling to Death

In the reign of Heniy VIII, prisoners were, by act of parliament,
condemned to be boiled to death. This act was repealed in the follow*
ing reiga ^

In Germany, even in the 17th centuiy, this horrible punishment was
inflicted on coiners and counterfdters. Taylor, the Water Poet, de-
scribes an execution he witnessed in Hamburg, in 1616. The judgment
piononnced against a coiner of false money was that he should " be
boiled to death in oil: not thrown into the vessd at once, but with a
pulley or rope to be hanged under the armpits, and then let down into

512 The Prince and the Pauper

ibt<xl fy dtgrtis: first the feet, and next the legs, and so to bdl his
flesh frc»n his bones alive." — Dr. y. Bammomd TymmMTs **Bim
Lawu True andFaUi^ p. 13.

The Famam Stoeking Que

A WOMAN and her daughter, nine years aid^ were hanged in Hnnt-
ingdon for selling their souls to the devQ, and raisi]:^ a storm by pulling
off their stockings! — Ibid,, p. ao.

NoiB 10 — Fsge 166

Enslaving

So young a king, and so ignorant a peasant were Iikdy to make
mistakes — and this is an instance in point. This peasant was suffering
frcnn this law by anticipation ; the king was venting his indignation
against a law which was not yet in existence: for this hideous statute
was to have birth in this little king's own reign. However, we know,
from the humanity of his character, that it could never have been sug-
gested by him«

Notes td Chapivr XXin — Fuge 218
Death for Trifling Larcenies

When Connecticut and New Haven were framing their first codes,
larceny above the value of twelve pence was a capital crime in England,
as it had been since the time of Heniy I. — Dr. J. Hammond Tmm^
bull*s ^^Blue Laws^ True and False ^^^ p. 17.

The curious old book called "The E^lish Rogue" makes the limit
thirteen pence ha' penny; death being the portion of aiqr who steal a
thing " above the value of thirteen pence ha'penny.'

>»

Noiss TO Chapivr XXVII— Page 253

From many descriptions of larceny, the law expressly took away the
benefit of clergy; to steal a horse, or a hawk^ or woolen doth from the
weaver, was a hanging matter. So it was to kill a deer from the Idi^'s
forest, or to export sheep from the Kingdom. — Dr, y. Hammond
Tr$mbull*s ^^Blue LawSy True and False ^^^ p. 13.

William Piynne, a learned barrister, was sentenced — £IoDg after

The Prince and the Pauper 313

Edward the Sixth's tune] — to lose both his ears in the piUoiy; to de-
gradation from the bar; a 6ne of ;f S^ooo, and imprisonment for life,
rhree years afterwards, he gave new offense to Laud, by publishing a
pamphlet against the hierarchy. He was again prosecuted, and was
sentenced to lose what remained of his ears; to pay a fine of
;f5,ooo; to be branded an both Ms cheeks with the letters S. L. (for
Seditious Libeller), and to remain in prison for life. The severity of
this sentence was equaled by the savage rigor of its execution. — Jbid,^
p. 12.

Notes to Chapivr XXXm —Page 304

Christ's Hospital or Blub Coat School, "the Noblest Insti-
tution in the World."

The ground on which the Frioiy of the Giey Friars stood was conferred
by Heniy the Eighth on the G>rporation of London [who caused the
institution there of a home for poor bojrs and girls]. Subsequently,
Edward the Sixth caused the old Priory to be properly repaired, and
founded within it that noble establishment called the Blue Coat School,
or Christ's Hospital, for the education and maintenance of orphans and
the children of indigent persons. • . . Edward would not let him
[Bishop Ridley] depart till the letter was written [to the Lord Mayor],
and then charged him to deliver it himself, and signify his special re-
quest and commandment that no time might be lost in proposing what
was convenient, and apprising him of the proceedings. The work was
sealously undertaken, Ridley himself engaging in it; and the result was,
the founding of Christ's Hospital for the Education of Poor Children.
[The king endowed several (^er charities at the same time.] '< Lord
God," said he, « I yvdA thee most hearty thanks that thou hast given me
life thus long, to finish this work to the glory of thy name !" That in-
nocent and most exemplary life was drawing rapidly to its dose, and in
a few days he rendered up his spirit to his Creator, praying God to de-
fend the reahn from Papistry.—/. Heneage Jessis *^ London, iti
Celebrated Characters and Places.^*

In the Great Hall hangs a large picture of King Edward VI seated
on his throne, in a scarlet and ermined robe, holding the sceptre in his
left hand, presenting with the other the Charter to the kneeling Lord
Mayor. By his side stands the Chancellor, holding the seals, and next to
him are other officers of state. Bishop Ridley kneek before him with up-

514 The Prince and the Pauper

lifted bfliidiy as if sappHcutiiig a blenuig on the efent; wlille tbe Alder*
iiien» etc., with the Lord Mayor, kneel on both sides, occupTing the odd*
die ground of the pictiire; and lastly, in front, are a dooble tow of boyioft
one side, and girls on the other, from the master and matron down to the
boy and girl who have stepped forward from their respective rows, and
kneel with raised hands before the king. — Timh* ^^Curiontiis of
Ltmdan" p. 98.

Christ's Hospital, by ancient coatom, possesses the privil^;e of ad-
dressing the Sovereign on the occasion of his or her coming into the
Gty to partake of the hospitality of the G>rporation of London. — Ibid,

The Dining-Hall, with its lobby and oigan-galleiy, occupies the entire
stoiy, which is 187 feet long, 51 feet wide, and 47 feet high; it is fit by
nine large windows, filled with stained glass on the south side; that is,
next to Westminster Hall, the noblest room in the metropolis. Here
the boys, now about 800 in number, dine; and here are held the "Sup-
pings in Public," to which visitors are admitted by tickets, issued by the
Treasurer and by the Governors of Christ's Ho^ital. The taUes are
laid with cheese in wooden bowls; beer in wooden piggins, poured
from leathern jacks ; and bread brought in large baskets. The official
company enter ; the Lord Mayor, or President, takes his seat in a stale
chair, made of oak from St. Catherine's Church byithe Tower ; a hynn
is sung, accompanied by the organ; a "Grecian," or head boy, reads
the prayers from the pulpit, silence being enforced by three drops of a
wooden hammer. After prayer the supper commences, and the visitois
walk between the tables. At its ck)se, the "trade-boys" take up the
baskets, bowls, jacks, piggins, and candlesticks, and pass in procession,
the bowing to the Governors being curiously formal. This spectacle
was witnessed by Queen Victoria aiKl Prince Albert in 1845.

Among the more eminent Blue Coat Boys are Joshua Barnes, editoi
of Anacreon and Euripides ; Jeremiah Markland, the eminent critic,
particularly in Greek literature; Camden, the antiquary; Bishop Still-
ingfleet; Samuel Richardson, the novelist; Thomas Mitchell, the trans-
lator of Aristophanes; Thomas Barnes, many years editor of the London
Times; Coleridge, Charles Lamb, and Leigh Hunt.

No boy is admitted before he is seven years okl, or after he is nine;
and no boy can remain in the school after he is fifteen. King's boys and
" Grecians" alone excepted. There are about 500 Governors, at the
head of whom are the Sovereign and the Prince of Wales. The quali-
fication for a Governor is paymoit of £S'0O. — Ibid,

the Prince and the Pauper 515

GENERAL NOTE

Onb hears much about the ** hideous Blue^Laws of Connecticut^**
and is accustomed to shudder piously when they are mentioned.
There are people in America — and even in England t — who imag"
ine that they were a very monument of malignity^ pitilessness^ and
inhumanity/ whereas, in reality they were about the first sweeping
DEPARTURE FROM JUDICIAL ATROCITY which the *^ civilised" world
had seen* This humane and hindly Blue^Law code^of two hundred
and forty years ago, stands all by itself with ages of bloody law on
the further side of it, and a century and three-quarters of bloody
English law on THIS side of it.

There has never been a time — under the Blue-Laws or any other
— when above fourteen crimes were punishable by death in Con-
necticut. But in England, within the memory of men who are still
hale in body and mind, two hundred and twenty-three crimes
were punishable by death / * These f cuts are worth knowing — cmd
worth thinking about, too,

• See Dr. J. Hammond TrumbaU's <* Blue Laws> Trae and False,"

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