Electronic Title Page

Abbreviations

The following abbreviations and location symbols have been used in annotations.

AD   Autobiographical Dictation
Berg   Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations
CWB   Clifton Waller Barrett Library, University of Virginia, Charlottesville
MS   Manuscript
MTP   Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley
Yale   Collection of American Literature, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut

published works cited

BAL    Jacob Blanck, Bibliography of American Literature (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957), vol. 2
BMT2    Merle Johnson, A Bibliography of the Works of Mark Twain, rev. ed. (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1935)
IE    Albert E. Stone, The Innocent Eye (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1961)
MT&HF    Walter Blair, Mark Twain & Huck Finn (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1960)
MTB    Albert Bigelow Paine, Mark Twain: A Biography, 3 vols. (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1912) Volume numbers in citations are to this edition; page numbers are the same in all editions.
MTBus    Mark Twain, Business Man, ed. Samuel C. Webster (Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1946)
MTCH    Mark Twain: The Critical Heritage, ed. Frederick Anderson (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1971)
MTE    Mark Twain in Eruption, ed. Bernard DeVoto (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1940)
MTHL    Mark Twain-Howells Letters, ed. Henry Nash Smith and William M. Gibson, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1960)
MTL    Mark Twain's Letters, ed. Albert Bigelow Paine, 2 vols. (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1917)
MTLP    Mark Twain's Letters to His Publishers, ed. Hamlin Hill (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967)
MTMF    Mark Twain to Mrs. Fairbanks, ed. Dixon Wecter (San Marino, Calif.: Huntington Library Publications, 1949)
NF    Kenneth R. Andrews, Nook Farm: Mark Twain's Hartford Circle (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1950)
N&J2    Mark Twain's Notebooks & Journals, Volume II (1877–1883), ed. Frederick Anderson, Lin Salamo, and Bernard L. Stein (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1975)

Introduction

In the years since its publication The Prince and the Pauper has been read primarily as a children's story. Yet the book was not intended by its author solely for the nursery bookshelves. Indeed, Mark Twain was never strictly respectful of the distinction between juvenile and adult literature. In later life he remarked, “I have never written a book for boys; I write for grown-ups who have been boys.”1 The Prince and the Pauper was no exception. It was, as the author styled it, “a tale for young people of all ages.” It was also a conscious excursion away from Mark Twain's established literary territory. He had already proved overwhelmingly successful with the public as a humorist, but he chafed at the widely accepted notion that serious novels were above his “proper level.”2 With The Prince and the Pauper he attempted to win a new audience, the cultivated but conventional readers epitomized by his own Nook Farm neighbors. His determination to broaden his literary reputation was fed by the comments of his family and friends even as he worked on the manuscript of The Prince and the Pauper. They urged him to “do some first-class serious” work and produce a book of “a sober character and a solid worth & a permanent value.” His motherly advisor Mary Mason Fairbanks wrote, “The time has come for your best book. I do not mean your most taking book, with the most money in it, I mean your best contribution to American literature.”3

[begin page 2]

The idea for The Prince and the Pauper, Clemens later recalled, was “suggested by that pleasant and picturesque little history-book, Charlotte M. Yonge's ‘Little Duke,’ ” which he found in his sister-in-law's library at Quarry Farm.4 The Little Duke, set in tenth-century France, follows the youthful adventures of imperious and quick-tempered Richard, duke of Normandy, who succeeds to the title when his father is treacherously murdered. After several months as a hostage at the corrupt court of King Louis IV, young Richard escapes and returns to Normandy, where he develops into a wise and gentle ruler, having learned, as a result of his experiences, Christian forgiveness, humility, and patience.

Charlotte Yonge was a fervent disciple of the Oxford Movement and intended her books to illustrate the history of Anglo-Catholic tenets while fostering Christian ideals and virtues. Clemens had no interest in the religious aspects of The Little Duke, but he was undoubtedly influenced by its genre, the historical romance, and by its theme, the moral education of a young boy. Most important, it showed him an orthodox literary mode, acceptable to a genteel audience, which he could employ.

There are obvious points of similarity between The Little Duke and The Prince and the Pauper. Both Richard of Normandy and Prince Edward are denied their noble birthright and, in the course of their adventures, develop a sense of justice and compassion before they regain their rightful positions. Richard, like Tom Canty, is at times delighted with the pageantry and adulation connected with his new position, but its awful isolation causes him, too, to become bored and lonely. And Prince Edward's faithful ally Miles Hendon recalls Osmond de Centeville, who is Richard's companion and protector

[begin page 3]

during his French captivity and who later rescues him from it.5 Ultimately, however, the similarities between the two books are superficial. Yonge stayed well within a verifiable historical framework; her intention was didactic, and the simplicity and propriety of her story clearly marked it for a young audience.

The writing of The Prince and the Pauper, like that of many of Mark Twain's works, was accomplished over several years, interrupted by business and family affairs and other literary projects. Therefore it is not surprising that more than once he modified his concept of the book. In the earliest surviving draft of the manuscript he attempted to place the story in the nineteenth century with Victoria's heir Albert Edward, later Edward VII, as its prince. After rejecting the idea of using changelings as the central device, he wrote at least twenty pages in which Albert Edward exchanged identities with Jim Hubbard, a product of London's industrial slums. The Victorian setting proved unusable; according to Albert Bigelow Paine, the author felt that he could not plausibly depict Albert Edward's “proud estate denied and jeered at by a modern mob.” So he put aside his manuscript and “followed back through history, looking along for the proper time and prince,” until he found Edward Tudor. By the summer of 1876 he was “diligently” researching an English Renaissance setting, but he apparently did not then make a fresh start on the manuscript.6 The sole fruit of that summer's historical reading seems to have been his brief scatological sketch 1601 or Conversation, As It Was by the Social Fireside, in the Time of the Tudors.

Clemens continued his study of Tudor history in the summer of 1877 at Quarry Farm, reminding himself in his notebook to “get Froude & notes” and “Hume's Henry VIII & Henry VII” from his Hartford home. He first mentioned the narrative by name, as a possible playscript, on the same notebook page: “Write Prince & Pauper

[begin page 4]

in 4 acts & 8 changes.”7 But he probably did not begin the actual writing of the Tom Canty/Edward Tudor story until sometime after his return to Hartford in September. A notebook entry of 23 November 1877 sketched the working plan for his new project:

In the course of the next three months, Mark Twain made a start on the manuscript of his novel; he revised and incorporated a few pages of his earlier draft9 and then concentrated on describing Tom Canty's life at the palace, introducing several of the more elaborate scenes of court ceremony. For the moment, the prince's adventures “in rags & hardships” were neglected.

In February 1878, answering a query from Mrs. Fairbanks, Clemens was enthusiastic about the book: “What am I writing? A historical tale, of 300 years ago, simply for the love of it—for it will appear without my name—such grave & stately work being considered by the world to be above my proper level. I have been studying for it, off & on, for a year & a half.”10 That same month, after finishing little more than eleven chapters, the author laid the manuscript aside. Later he said he had stopped because “the tank was dry.” At the time he

[begin page 5]

told William Dean Howells that he did so to prepare for a trip to Europe.11

The Clemens family sailed for Europe in April 1878 and spent almost a year and a half there while Clemens gathered material for A Tramp Abroad. He did not add to the manuscript of The Prince and the Pauper, although he may have done some research for the story while in London in July and August 1879.12 After returning to the United States in September he devoted himself chiefly to completing his travel book and almost certainly did not resume work on The Prince and the Pauper until after he finished A Tramp Abroad in January 1880.

Mark Twain probably intended at first to establish a pattern of alternating adventures of the pauper and the prince. Early in 1880, looking over the eleven chapters that he had laid aside almost two years before, he was evidently struck by his neglect of Edward's role in the plot: his first decision upon resuming work was to “put 212-13-14 his last completed manuscript pages further along”13 and insert into the manuscript two new chapters (chapters 12 and 13), which dealt with the prince's adventures as an outcast in the streets of London.

By early March 1880 Mark Twain was writing chapter 15 of The Prince and the Pauper14 and he had begun to modify his scheme for the book. The device of alternately presenting the adventures of Tom Canty and Edward, while it responded to the problem of narrative structure, was too restrictive. Tom's perceptions and expe-

[begin page 6]

riences, necessarily confined to the English court at Westminster, lacked interest and variety. The first eleven chapters, which dealt almost exclusively with Tom, were overburdened with long quotes from several rather tedious historical accounts. The author began to broaden the scope of his story by concentrating on Edward's adventures. In a letter of March 11 to Howells, he sketched the plot of his novel and hinted at this shift in emphasis away from Tom to Edward:

Mark Twain probably wrote two more chapters before abandoning the manuscript for several weeks.16 By mid-June he was installed at Quarry Farm for the summer and he resumed work, evidently strongly under the influence of his new idea of having Edward experience, firsthand, the laws of his kingdom. From then on, the novel would focus almost exclusively on Edward's adventures.17

Mark Twain alternated composing his novel with writing Huckleberry Finn, and by August 31 he had written the “first half of the

[begin page 7]

climax chapter” (chapter 32) and anticipated only another week's work. By 14 September 1880 he had finished it.18

For the next four months Mark Twain revised and expanded the manuscript and sought criticisms and reactions from friends. In December he asked Howells, Edwin Pond Parker, and Joseph Hopkins Twichell to read and comment on the manuscript,19 and some of their suggestions occasioned manuscript changes. Parker, in a 1912 letter to the Hartford Courant, recalled that both he and Twichell suggested striking out a certain “blot” in the manuscript, but that Mark Twain refused.20 The author reacted more positively to comments made by Howells in a letter of 13 December 1880:

Mark Twain promptly removed the “whipping-boy's story,”22 but did nothing about the court ceremonials. Howells' praise of the book's picaresque elements may have moved Mark Twain to expand that sec-

[begin page 8]

tion of the book,23 and by 21 January 1881 he had added over one hundred thirty new pages of manuscript to the prince's adventures in the rural districts, which pagination shows constitute the greater part of chapters 18 through 22.24 He then added some historical notes—“to give it style”—and finished the book on 1 February 1881.25

There are numerous revisions throughout the manuscript, most of which were made for the purpose of refining language and plot and making the characters more believable.26 In chapter 1, for example, Mark Twain deleted a specific reference to the birthdate of his young heroes. “I knew I was making them too wise & knowing for their real age,” he later admitted, “so I studiously avoided mentioning any dates which would remind the reader that they were under 10 years old. Perhaps I mention the date of Henry VIIIs death, but I don't mention the date of Prince Edward's birth.”27 The author also carefully modified his initial portrait of Edward in chapter 3. Realizing that a studious and sickly Edward would hardly be able to survive the rigorous adventures the plot demanded, Mark Twain sacrificed historical accuracy in the interest of literary necessity, substituting “comely” for “pale” in his description and adding that the prince was “tanned and brown with sturdy out-door sports and exercises.” And he was also concerned that Tom Canty's transmutation from Offal Court to the court at Westminster should not seem incredible, so he added a long passage in chapter 2 describing Tom's daydreams of court life and their effect. In chapter 3 Mark Twain inserted, for the alert reader, the brief scene in which Edward puts away the “article of national importance,” and in chapter 10 he introduced the curious

[begin page 9]

test by which Mrs. Canty is always able to identify Tom. The author also reduced the number of archaic constructions and spellings, and tempered some of the language.

Plans for publication of the book concerned Clemens for several months before he actually finished it. In November 1880 he offered the opening chapters of The Prince and the Pauper to Mary Mapes Dodge, editor of the prestigious young people's magazine St. Nicholas. Mrs. Dodge replied that the magazine already had enough contributions for 1881, but she agreed to read the proffered chapters, saying that if “the story should prove to be one that St. Nicholas must have (crowded or not) I do not doubt that the publishers and yourself would agree, as to terms.” After consultation with his publisher, Clemens decided against submitting the chapters for fear that serial publication might reduce sales of the printed volume.28

Apparently Clemens had already chosen his publisher by this time. For financial reasons he had long been dissatisfied with the American Publishing Company, the subscription-book firm he had dealt with since 1868, and he was, by 1880, confident that he could publish on a more lucrative basis. The death of Elisha Bliss, president of the American Publishing Company, in September 1880, provided him an excuse for ending his connection with that house and he entered into negotiations with James R. Osgood, a well-known Boston trade publisher. Osgood, who had published Mark Twain's A True Story, and the Recent Carnival of Crime in 1877 as a trade book, had no experience in subscription publishing and no network of door-to-door canvassers to reach the subscription public, but he was understandably eager to add Mark Twain to his list of authors. Clemens, on the other hand, realized the advantages of publishing his first “grave & stately work” under the aegis of a genteel and respected Boston publisher. Nevertheless he had no intention of sacrificing the vast subscription market—and its accompanying huge profits—for the relatively small and elite trade publication readership.29 Therefore in

[begin page 10]

November 1880 he made a preliminary informal agreement with Osgood for the publication, by subscription, of The Prince and the Pauper. He signed the final contract on 9 February 1881.30

According to the provisions of the contract for The Prince and the Pauper, Osgood, subject to Clemens' approval, would provide the illustrations, pay all advertising costs, and manufacture the book, which was to be issued by 15 November 1881. Clemens agreed to deliver the manuscript by April 1 of that year, to pay all bills incurred in producing the volume, and to determine its retail price and the discounts to agents and canvassers. He would own “all illustrations, plates and stock belonging to said work.” Perhaps the two most important stipulations were that Clemens would retain copyright, which had not been the case when he was dealing with the American Publishing Company, and that he would receive all funds collected except for a 7½ percent commission, which was to go to the Osgood company.31

Production began on schedule: by 16 March 1881 “high-priced artists & engravers”32 were at work on the book and on April 22 Clemens reported that it was “in press.”33 Over the next few months, Clemens was consulted about a variety of production and promotional matters, including manufacturing costs.34 He was able to draw upon his long association with the American Publishing Company to offset Osgood's inexperience in the field of subscription publishing. In fact,

[begin page 11]

Osgood used the American Publishing Company's subscription network to some extent to market the new book.35

Mark Twain approved, but did not suggest, particular illustrations, allowing his publishers to select captions for them36 and stipulating only that “the artist always picture the Prince & Tom Canty as lads of 13 or 14 years old.”37 More than half of the illustrations were the work of Frank T. Merrill, with the remainder contributed by John J. Harley (who would later work on Life on the Mississippi); the half-titles were designed by L. S. Ipsen.38 The author repeatedly expressed delight with the illustrations, singling out Merrill's delicate figures rather than Harley's more robust delineations. “Merrill probably thinks he originated his exquisite boys himself,” Clemens wrote to his publisher, “but I was ahead of him there!—in these pictures they look and dress exactly as I used to see them in my mind two years ago. It is a vast pleasure to see them cast in the flesh, so to speak—they were of but perishable dream-stuff, before.” Clemens' experience of subscription publishing had convinced him of the importance of illustrations to the volume: he urged his publisher to “glorify” them in the advertising circulars and to “call attention to the historical accuracy of the costumes.”39 The publisher's announcement in the canvassing prospectus would conclude with the statement: “No pains have been spared to make the representation of the characters, costumes, buildings, and scenery historically accurate, as well as artistically correct and attractive.”

Mark Twain began receiving proof sheets of the book in August 1881; by September 18 he had read two-thirds of them and was expect-

[begin page 12]

ing to publish the book on December 1.40 The November publication date originally projected for the book could not be met because of the necessity of coordinating printing schedules with the English and Canadian editions. In addition, the November schedule was compromised by last-minute revisions in the text and by difficulties with the impractical Kaolatype process being used to produce the volume's cover.41

Copyright for the first American edition was granted on 13 October 1881. Clemens was more concerned, however, with the problem of securing clear and exclusive Canadian copyright in order to forestall pirated editions. He journeyed to Montreal on November 26 and remained there until December 9 in an attempt to ensure copyright by establishing residence while a small Canadian edition was printed. But Clemens learned even before he left Montreal that Canadian copyright had not been granted. His maneuver was not entirely worthless: his temporary residence in Canada satisfied the requirements of the Imperial Copyright Law of 1842 and effectively protected him from Canadian reprints, but having failed to satisfy more recent Canadian statutes, Clemens was powerless to prevent the importation into Canada of foreign reprints. Two determined Canadian publishers, the Rose-Belford Publishing Company and John Ross Robertson, found a way to circumvent these copyright restrictions—they protected their pirated editions of The Prince and the Pauper by the simple expedient of printing the books in the United States and importing them into Canada.

[begin page 13]

Chatto and Windus' English edition appeared as planned on 1 December 1881, and the authorized Canadian edition, consisting of 275 copies issued by Dawson Brothers of Montreal merely as a concession to copyright law, probably appeared immediately thereafter. Baron Tauchnitz's Continental edition was also scheduled to appear on December 1.42 Osgood's American edition was available on December 3 in Boston, and by the end of December, four impressions, totaling over 25,000 copies, had been prepared.43

The response to The Prince and the Pauper—especially among Clemens' friends—was enthusiastic. As Edwin Pond Parker put it in a Hartford Courant editorial: “Mark Twain has finally fulfilled the earnest hope of many of his best friends, in writing a book which has other and higher merits than can possibly belong to the most artistic expression of mere humor.”44 Mrs. Fairbanks was equally pleased: “It is just a lovely book, and I am as happy as if I had written it myself. . . . The book is your masterpiece in fineness—‘The Innocents’ was your bulletin—‘The Prince & the Pauper’ your specimen.” Thomas Bailey Aldrich expressed his delight with the theme of the book—“a charming conception and charmingly worked out.”45 The one dissenting voice was Joseph T. Goodman, Clemens' old Nevada friend and editor. He had commented even before he saw the book—“I have been anxious that you should try your hand at another novel. But what could have sent you groping among the driftwood of the Deluge for a topic when you would have been so much more at home in the wash of today?” His disappointment became even more acute after he read the novel:

[begin page 14]

In the American press, the keynote of critical reaction to the book was set by Howells, writing anonymously in the New York Daily Tribune in October 1881. He predicted that the book would “surprise those who have found nothing but drollery in Mark Twain's books, and have not perceived the artistic sense and the strain of deep earnestness underlying his humor.” In Howells' judgment The Prince and the Pauper showed “interesting evidence of growth in a man who ought still to have his best work before him.”47 The reviewer in the Critic suggested that the “finer element in Mark Twain's nature, which has been more or less distinctly traceable in all his books, has been growing more predominant in his more recent writings.”48

While the critics were unanimous in applauding the refinement of literary taste and the strong and pure morality evident in The Prince and the Pauper, they did not all agree that Mark Twain's previous publications had prepared his readers for such a work. Joel Chandler Harris, writing for the Atlanta Constitution, thought the new book a “wide departure from his old methods—so much so that the contrast presents a phase of literary development unique in its proportions and suggestions,” and he welcomed the emergence of Mark Twain as a “true literary artist.”49

H. H. Boyesen's long unsigned review in the Atlantic Monthly praised The Prince and the Pauper in terms characteristic of Victorian standards of literary art—“a tale ingenious in conception, pure and humane in purpose, artistic in method, and, with barely a flaw, refined in execution”—and he viewed the volume as a radically “new departure” for Mark Twain,

[begin page 15]

Harper's magazine found nothing to criticize: the author was a “veracious chronicler, the recital being interspersed with sparkles of dry humor and covert satire yet observing a careful regard to the historical accessories,” and the book was “rich in historical facts and teachings” and “charged with a generous and ennobling moral.”51

The Century reserved its comments until March 1882 and was more judicious in its criticism. The reviewer found The Prince and the Pauper in some ways a “remarkable” book—pointing out the “quiet satire, the ingenuity of the plot, and the clever development of the thoughts and motives” of Tom and Edward. But he also expressed serious reservations about the book's “curious”—and sometimes infelicitous—“mixture of fact and fancy.”

Clemens, with the almost unanimous commendations of the critics before him, was undisturbed by the Century's quibbles. “It amused me a good deal,” he wrote to Edward H. House on 23 February 1882, “to observe the struggle going on in the writer's mind, to find something to find fault with, and I thought that if I could have been at his elbow, I could have saved him the humiliation of discovering such infinitesimal defects, by pointing out colossal ones.”53

[begin page 16]

Clemens was surprised to find the English reviews on the whole “profoundly complimentary.”54 The London Times praised the “remarkably ingenious and sensible story” and, while suggesting that it was perhaps too long for a young audience, concluded that it was “capitally told, in an easy and picturesque style, and imparts in a natural manner a good deal of historic information.”55 There was some adverse criticism in the English press: the book was accused of dullness, and the author's historical accuracy was questioned. The Saturday Review praised the illustrations, but beyond pointing out a minor inaccuracy made no attempt at a literary evaluation of the book.56 E. Purcell's brief review in the Academy dismissed the new book as a “libel on the English Court,” monotonous and “singularly deficient in literary merit.”57 The Athenaeum's remarks about “Mr. Clements's” new effort were equally ruthless and considerably longer:

Clemens read the Saturday Review and Athenaeum notices and was philosophical. “It gave me no dis-comfort,” he wrote Andrew Chatto, “because here we consider that neither of those papers,

[begin page 17]

would compliment the holy scriptures, if an American had written them.”59

Clemens professed to be pleased with the book's reception and the early English and American sales.60 “I find myself a fine success, as a publisher,” he told H. H. Boyesen in January 1882, “and literarily the new departure is a great deal better received than I had any right to hope for.”61 Apparently the author, knowing that his “new departure” might puzzle his established audience, did not hope to equal the astonishing success of such previous books as The Innocents Abroad, Roughing It, A Tramp Abroad, or even The Gilded Age. During the writing of The Prince and the Pauper he had insisted, “If I knew it would never sell a copy my jubilant delight in writing it would not suffer any diminution.”62 Olivia Clemens too was delighted with the story, and according to Clemens was particularly anxious that the volume “be elegantly gotten up, even if the elegance of it eats up the publisher's profits and mine too.”63 Nonetheless, Clemens kept a careful eye on sales. Subscription orders dropped off sharply in the first quarter after publication. “Too brief a pre-canvass” and the poor performance of the “gang of general agents” whom Osgood had borrowed from the American Publishing Company were the problems, in Clemens' opinion.64 He was soon disappointed enough to consider “dumping” the book into the trade market. He was only persuaded to delay this maneuver by Osgood's assurance that “the responses we receive from the agents seem to indicate a good sale for ‘P & P’ for the rest of the year.”65 But as the months passed sales still did not meet Clemens' expectations. In December 1883 he would describe The Prince and the Pauper and Life on the Mississippi, rather inaccurately, as “the only books of mine which have ever

[begin page 18]

failed,” admitting, however, that the failure of his historical tale was “not unbearable.”66 Years later he recalled: “Osgood made a beautiful book of it but all the profit I got out of it was seventeen thousand dollars.”67

Clemens' family was especially fond of The Prince and the Pauper. “It is unquestionably the best book he has ever written,” Susy Clemens commented in her biography of her father. “The book is full of lovely charming ideas, and oh the language! It is perfect.”68 Olivia Clemens, with the help of her daughters and the neighborhood children, presented her dramatization of the book, the first of several family productions, as a surprise for the author early in 1885.69 Clemens himself would enliven later performances with his impersonation of Miles Hendon.

Seemingly, The Prince and the Pauper constitutes a digression in Mark Twain's literary evolution. He momentarily abandoned his most successful vein, autobiographical and purely American, and chose instead to work in an impersonal mode within the convention of the historical romance. Yet The Prince and the Pauper is related not only chronologically but also thematically to Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. It began to take literary shape in 1877, just two years after the completion of Tom Sawyer, and it was in part written concurrently with Huckleberry Finn. All three books feature child-heroes at the turning point—at first self-absorbed and somewhat alienated from a world that is at times confining and cruel, they learn in the course of many experiences to judge soundly and compassionately. Specific situations and even characters in the Mississippi River

[begin page 19]

books find their counterparts in The Prince and the Pauper.70 Moreover, Mark Twain discovered in the historical perspective an effective solution to the problem of narrative structure and a medium for his social and political ideas; he returned to this device in such later works as A Connecticut Yankee, Joan of Arc, and The Mysterious Stranger. Thus The Prince and the Pauper helped to shape and clarify certain aspects of Mark Twain's artistic vision. At the same time its publication marked a new direction in critical appraisal of Mark Twain's work and heralded the author's growing commitment to the business of publishing his own books.

[Preliminaries]

[begin page 28]

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

———

from the national manuscripts preserved by the
british government.

———

---

[begin page 29]

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

———

from the national manuscripts preserved by the
british government.

———

Ryght honorable. Salutem in Christo Jesu. And Syr here ys no lesse joynge and rejossynge in thes partees for the byrth of our prynce, hoom we hungurde for so longe, then ther was, (I trow) inter vicinos att the byrth of S. I. Baptyste, as thys berer Master Evance can telle you. Gode gyffe us alle grace, to yelde dew thankes to our Lordete Gode, Gode of Inglonde, for verely He hathe shoyd Hym selff Gode of Inglonde, or rather an Inglyssh Gode, yf we consydyr and pondyr welle alle Hys procedynges with us from tyme to tyme. He hath over-cumme alle our yllnesse with Hys excedynge goodnesse, so that we ar now moor then compellyd to serve Hym, seke Hys glory, promott Hys wurde, yf the Devylle of alle Devylles be natt in us. We have now the stooppe of vayne trustes ande the stey of vayne expectations; lett us alle pray for hys preservatione. Ande I for my partt wylle wyssh that hys Grace allways have, and evyn now from the begynynge, Governares, Instructores and offyceres of ryght jugmente, ne optimum ingenium non optimâ educatione depravetur. Butt whatt a grett fowlle am I! So, whatt devotione shoyth many tymys butt lytelle dyscretione! Ande thus the Gode of Inglonde be ever with you in alle your procedynges.

The 19 of October.

youres H. L. B. of Wurcestere

now att Hartlebury.

Yf you wolde excytt thys berere to be moore hartye ayen the abuse of ymagry or mor forwarde to promotte the veryte, ytt myght doo goode. Natt that ytt came of me, butt of your selffe, &c.

(Addressed) To the Ryght Honorable Loorde P. Sealle hys synguler gode Lorde.

---

[begin page 30]

---

[begin page 31]

THE PRINCE
AND THE PAUPER

A TALE
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE OF ALL AGESte

BY
MARK TWAIN

---

[begin page 32]

[blank verso]

---

[begin page 33]

to
those good-mannered and agreeable children,
Susie and Clara Clemens ,
this book
is affectionately inscribed
by their father.

---

[begin page 34]

[blank verso]

---

[begin page 35]

The quality of mercy . . .
is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes;
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The thronèd35.5 monarch better than his crown.
Merchant of Venice.

Contents

1.   The Birth of the Prince and the Pauper
2.   Tom's Early Life
3.   Tom's Meeting with the Prince
4.   The Prince's Troubles Begin
5.   Tom as a Patrician
6.   Tom Receives Instructions
7.   Tom's First Royal Dinner
8.   The Question of the Seal
9.   The River Pageant
10.   The Prince in the Toils
11.   At Guildhall
12.   The Prince and His Deliverer
13.   The Disappearance of the Prince
14.   “Le Roi Est Mort—Vive le Roi”
15.   Tom as King
16.   The State Dinner
17.   Foo-Foo the First
18.   The Prince with the Tramps
19.   The Prince with the Peasants
20.   The Prince and the Hermit
21.   Hendon to the Rescue
22.   A Victim of Treachery
23.   The Prince a Prisoner
24.   The Escape
25.   Hendon Hall
26.   Disowned
27.   In Prison
28.   The Sacrifice
29.   To London
30.   Tom's Progress
31.   The Recognition Procession
32.   Coronation Day
33.   Edward as King
   CONCLUSION. Justice and Retribution
   NOTES

List of Illustrations

   The Great Seal (Frontispiece)
   The Birth of the Prince and the Pauper (Chapter 1)
   “Splendid pageants and great bonfires.”
   Tom's Early Life (Chapter 2)
   Offal Court
   “With any miserable crust.”
   “He often read the priest's books.”
   “Saw poor Anne Askew burned.”
   “Brought their perplexities to Tom.”
   “Longing for the pork-pies.”
   Tom's Meeting with the Prince (Chapter 3)
   “At Temple Bar.”
   “Let him in!”
   “How old be these?”
   “Doff thy rags and don these splendors.”
   “I salute your gracious highness.”
   The Prince's Troubles Begin (Chapter 4)
   “Set upon by dogs.”
   “A drunken ruffian collared him.”
   Tom as a Patrician (Chapter 5)
   “Next he drew the sword.”
   “Resolved to fly.”
   “The boy was on his knees.”
   “Great nobles walked upon each side of him.”
   “He dropped upon his knees.”
   “He turned a joyful face.”
   “The physician bowed low.”
   “The king fell back upon his couch.”
   “Is this man to live forever?”
   Tom Receives Instructions (Chapter 6)
   “Prithee, insist not.”
   “The lord St. John made reverence.”
   Hertford and the princesses
   “She made reverence.”
   “Offered it to him on a golden salver.”
   “They mused a while.”
   “Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason!”
   “He began to pace the floor.”
   Tom's First Royal Dinner (Chapter 7)
   “Fastened a napkin about his neck.”
   “Tom ate with his fingers.”
   “He gravely took a draught.”
   “Tom put on the greaves.”
   The Question of the Seal (Chapter 8)
   “The attendants eased him back upon his pillows.”
   The River Pageant (Chapter 9)
   “A troop of halberdiers appeared in the gateway.”
   “Tom Canty stepped into view.”
   The Prince in the Toils (Chapter 10)
   “A dim form sank to the ground.”
   “Who art thou?”
   “Sent him staggering into Goodwife Canty's arms.”
   “She bent heedfully and warily over him.”
   “The prince sprang up.”
   “Hurried him along the dark way.”
   “He wasted no time.”
   At Guildhall (Chapter 11)
   “A rich canopy of state.”
   “Began to lay about him.”
   “Long live the king!”
   The Prince and His Deliverer (Chapter 12)
   “Our friends threaded their way.”
   “Object-lessons” in English history
   “John Canty moved off.”
   “Smoothing back the tangled curls.”
   “Prithee pour the water.”
   “Go on—tell me thy story.”
   “Thou hast been shamefully abused!”
   “He dropped upon one knee.”
   “Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight.”
   The Disappearance of the Prince (Chapter 13)
   “He dropped asleep.”
   “These be very good and sound.”
   “Explain, thou limb of Satan!”
   “Hendon followed after him.”
   “Le roi est mort—Vive le roi.” (Chapter 14)
   “Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?”
   “The First Lord of the Bedchamber received the hose.”
   “A secretary of state presented an order.”
   “The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease.”
   “'Tis I that take them.”
   “If your majesty will but tax your memory.”
   Tom as King (Chapter 15)
   “Tom had wandered to a window.”
   “Tom scanned the prisoners.”
   “Let the prisoner go free!”
   “What is it that these have done?”
   “Several old heads nodded their recognition.”
   The State Dinner (Chapter 16)
   “A gentleman bearing a rod.”
   “The Chancellor, between two.”
   “I thank ye, my good people.”
   “He marched away in the midst of his pageant.”
   Foo-Foo the First (Chapter 17)
   “The ruffian followed their steps.”
   “He seized a billet of wood.”
   “He was soon absorbed in thinkings.”
   “A grim and unsightly picture.”
   “They roared out a rollicking ditty.”
   “Whilst the flames licked upward.”
   “They were whipped at the cart's tail.”
   “Thou shalt not!”
   “Knocking Hobbs down.”
   “Throne him!”
   The Prince with the Tramps (Chapter 18)
   “The troop of vagabonds set forward.”
   “They threw bones and vegetables.”
   “Began to writhe and wallow in the dirt.”
   “The king fled in the opposite direction.”
   “He stumbled along.”
   “What seemed to be a warm rope.”
   “Cuddled up to the calf.”
   The Prince with the Peasants (Chapter 19)
   “Took a good satisfying stare.”
   “The children's mother received the king kindly.”
   “Brought the king out of his dreams.”
   “Gave him a butcher knife to grind.”
   The Prince and the Hermit (Chapter 20)
   “He turned and descried two figures.”
   “The king entered, and paused.”
   “I will tell you a secret!”
   “Chatting pleasantly all the time.”
   “Drew his thumb along the edge.”
   “The next moment they were bound.”
   Hendon to the Rescue (Chapter 21)
   “He sunk upon his knees, his knife in hand.”
   “Then followed a confusion of kicks and plungings.”
   “The fettered little king.”
   A Victim of Treachery (Chapter 22)
   “Hugo stood no chance.”
   “Hugo bound the poultice tight and fast.”
   “Tarry here till I come again.”
   “The king sprang to his deliverer's side.”
   The Prince a Prisoner (Chapter 23)
   “Gently, good friend.”
   “She sprang to her feet.”
   The Escape (Chapter 24)
   “The pig may cost thy neck, man!”
   “Bear me up, bear me up, sweet sir!”
   Hendon Hall (Chapter 25)
   “Jogging eastward on sorry steeds.”
   “There is the village, my prince!”
   “ ‘Embrace me, Hugh,’ he cried.”
   “Hugh put up his hand in dissent.”
   “A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh.”
   “Hugh was pinned to the wall.”
   Disowned (Chapter 26)
   “Obey, and have no fear.”
   “Am I Miles Hendon?”
   In Prison (Chapter 27)
   “Chained in a large room.”
   “The old man looked Hendon over.”
   “Information delivered in a low voice.”
   “The king!” he cried. “What king?”
   “Two women, chained to posts.”
   “Torn away by the officers.”
   “The king was furious.”
   The Sacrifice (Chapter 28)
   “He confronted the officer in charge.”
   “Whilst the lash was applied the poor king turned away his face.”
   “Sir Hugh spurred away.”
   To London (Chapter 29)
   “Hendon mounted and rode off with the king.”
   “In the midst of a jam of howling people.”
   Tom's Progress (Chapter 30)
   “To kiss his hand, at parting.”
   “Commanded her to go to her closet.”
   The Recognition Procession (Chapter 31)
   The start for the Tower
   “Welcome, O king!”
   “A largess! a largess!”
   “She was at his side.”
   “My liege! It is an ill time for dreaming!”
   “She was my mother!”
   Coronation Day (Chapter 32)
   “Gathers up the lady's long train.”
   “Tom Canty appeared.”
   “And fell on his knees before him.”
   “The Great Seal—fetch it hither.”
   “Sire, the Seal is not there!”
   “Bethink thee, my king.”
   “Long live the true king!”
   “To crack nuts with!”
   Edward as King (Chapter 33)
   “He stretched himself on the ground.”
   “Arrested as a suspicious character.”
   “It is his right!”
   “Strip this robber.”
   “Tom rose and kissed the king's hand.”
   Justice and Retribution (Conclusion)
   Notes

[Epigraph]

I will sette 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.

CHAPTER 1 The Birth of the Prince and the Pauper

[begin page 47]

In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century,alt a boy was born to a pooralt family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English child was born to a richalt family of the name of Tudor, who did want him. All England wanted him, too. England had so longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him,alt that now that he was really come, the people went nearlyalt 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 mellowalt—and they kept this up for days and nights together. Byalt 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 England but of the new baby,

[begin page 48]

Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious 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,alt lapped in his poor rags, except among the family of paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his presence.

“splendid pageants and great bonfires.”

CHAPTER 2 Tom's Early Life

[begin page 49]

Let us skipte a number ofalt years.

London was fifteen hundred years old, and was a great town—for thatalt day. It had a hundred thousand inhabitants—some thinkalt double as many.alt The streets were very narrow, and crooked, and dirty,alt especially in the part where Tom Canty livedte, which was not far from London Bridge.alt The houses were of wood, with the second story projecting 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 strongalt 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 houses49.1149.11 a very picturesque look. The windows were small, glazed with little diamond-shaped panes, and they opened outward, on hinges, like doors.an

The house which Tom's father lived in was up a foulalt little pocket called Offal Court, out of Pudding Lanean. It was small, decayed, and rickettyalt, but it was packed full of wretchedlyalt poor families. Canty's tribe occupied a roomalt on the third floor. The mother and father had a sort of bedstead in the corner, but Tom, his grandmother, and his two

[begin page 50]

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 calledalt beds, for they were not organized; they were kicked into a general pile, mornings, and selections made from the mass at night, for service.alt

offal court.

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 fiends50.1550.15. They got drunk whenever they could; then they fought each other or anybody else who came in the way; they cursed and swore always, 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,alt but not of,alt the dreadful rabble that inhabited the house, was a good old priest whom the king had turned out of house and 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 howalt to

[begin page 51]

read and write; and would have done the same with the girls, but they were afraid of the jeers of their friends, who could not have endured such a queer accomplishment in them.

All Offal 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 Tomalt was not unhappy. He had a hard time ofte it, but did not 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,alt and that when he was done the awful grandmother51.12 would do it all over again and improve on it; and that away in the night his starvingalt mother would slip to him stealthily with any miserable scrap or crust she had been able to save for him by going hungry herself, notwithstanding she was often caught in that sort of treason and soundly beatenalt for italt by her husband.

No, Tom's life went along well enough, especially in summer. He only begged just enough to save himself51.1851.18, for the laws against mendicancy were stringent, and the penalties heavy; so he put in a good deal of his time listeningalt to good Father Andrew's charming old tales and legends about giants and fairies,alt dwarfs and genii, and enchanted castles, and gorgeous kings and princes. His head grew to be full of

[begin page 52]

these wonderful things, and many a night as healt lay in the dark on his scant and offensive straw, tired, hungry, and smarting from a thrashing, he unleashedalt 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 Court52.7te comrades; but they jeered him and scoffed him so unmercifully that he was gladalt 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

[begin page 53]

“saw poor anne askew burned.”

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 solely53.353.3 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 May-pole53.6 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.alt One summer's day he saw poor Anne Askew and three men burned at the

[begin page 54]

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.

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. Butalt Tom's influence among these young people began toalt grow, now,alt

day by day; and in time he came to be looked 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 performances, 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 extraordinary 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 except his own family—altthese, only,alt saw nothing in him.

Privately, after a while,alt Tom organized a royal court! He was the prince; his special comrades were guards,alt chamberlains, equerries,

[begin page 55]

lords and ladies in waiting, and the royal family. Daily the mockalt prince was received with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from his romantic readings; daily the great affairs of the mimic kingdom were discussed in the royal council, and daily his mimic highness issued decrees to his imaginary armies, navies, and viceroyalties.

After which, he would go forth in his rags and beg a few farthings, eat his poor crust, take his customary 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 lastalt 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, barefootedalt55.15 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 fit for the angels; that is, judging by the smell, they were—altfor it had never been his goodalt luck to own and eat one. There was a cold drizzle of rain;alt the

[begin page 56]

atmosphere was murky; it wasalt a melancholy day. Atalt night Tomalt reached home so wet and tired and hungry that it was not possible for his father and grandmotheralt to observe his forlorn condition and not be moved—after their fashion; whereforealt they gave him a briskalt cuffing at once and sent him to bed. For a longalt time his pain and hunger, and the swearing and fighting going on in the buildingalt kept him awake; but at last his thoughts drifted away to far, romantic lands,alt and he fell asleep in the company of jeweled and gilded princelings whoalt lived in vast palaces, and had servants salaaming before them or flyingalt to execute their orders. And then, as usual,alt he dreamed that he was a princeling himself.alt

All night long the glories of his royal estatealt shone upon him; he moved among great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes, drinking in delicious music,alt and answering the reverent obeisances of the glittering throng as it parted to make way for him, with herealt a smile, and therealt 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 sordidness of his surroundings a thousand fold. Then came bitterness, and heartbreak, and tears.alt

CHAPTER 3 Tom's Meeting with the Prince

[begin page 57]

Tom got up hungryalt and sauntered hungry away but with his thoughts busy with the shadowy splendors of his night's dreams.alt 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 musingalt boy. By and by he found himself at Temple Bar—the furthest57.6te from home he had ever traveledalt 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 tolerably compact row of houses on one sidealt of it, there werealt only some scattering great buildings on the other,alt these being palaces of richalt nobles, with ample and beautiful grounds stretching to the river—grounds that are now closely packed with grim acres of brick and stone.

[begin page 58]

“at temple bar.”

Tom discovered Charing village, presently, and rested himself at the beautiful cross built there by a bereavedalt king of earlier days;alt then idled down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's statelyalt palace, toward a far morealt mighty and majestic palace beyond—Westminster. Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pilealt of masonry, the wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the huge stone gateway with its gildedalt barsalt and its magnificent array58.11–1258.11–12 of colossal granite lions and other thete signs and symbols of Englishalt royalty. Was the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last? Here, indeed, was a king's palace—might he not hope to see a prince, now, a prince of flesh and blood,alt if heaven were willing?

At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue—that is to say, an erect and statelyalt 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 waiting 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 otheralt noble gateways that pierced the royal enclosure.alt

[begin page 59]

Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was movingalt slow59.1 and timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, when all atalt once he caught sight, through the goldenalt bars, of a spectacle that almost made him shout for joy. Within was a comelyalt boy, tanned and brown with sturdy out-door sports and exercises,alt whose clothing was all of lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels;alt 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. O59.10, he was a prince! a prince! a living

[begin page 60]

prince, a real prince, without the shadow of a question, and the prayer of the pauper-boy's heart was answered at last!

Tom'salt breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes grew big with wonder and delight.alt Everythingalt gave way in his mind, instantly, to one desire; that was, to get close to the prince and have a good, devouringalt look at him. Before he knew what he was about, he had his face against the gate-barsalt. 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.alt The soldieralt said:

“Mind thyalt manners thoualt 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 pooralt lad like that!alt How dar'st thou usete thealt king my father's meanest subjectalt so! 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!”alt

The soldiers presentedalt arms, with their halberds,alt opened the gates, and presented again as the little Princealt of Poverty passed in, in his fluttering rags, to join hands with the Prince of Limitless60.21 Plentyte.

Edwardalt Tudor said:

“Thou lookestalt tired and hungry; thou'stalt 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 royalalt gesture, and they stopped stock stillalt where they were, like so many statues.alt Edwardalt took Tomalt to a rich apartment in the palacealt which he called his cabinet. By his commandalt, a repastalt was brought such as Tomalt had never encountered before except in books, the prince, with princelyalt 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.alt

“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 Court60.37, out of Puddingalt Lane60.37te.”

“Offal Court60.38! Truly 'tis another odd one. Hast parents?”

[begin page 61]

“Parents have I, sir, and a grandamalt61.1 likewise that is but indifferently precious to me, God forgive me if it be offense to say it. Also twin sisters—Nan and Bet.alt”

“Then is thy grandam61.4 not over kind to thee, I take it.”

“Neither to any otheralt is she, so please your worship. She hath a wicked heart, and worketh evilalt 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 beatingsalt.”

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

“What! Beatings?alt”

“O61.13, indeed, yes, please you, sir.”

“Beatings! And thou so frail and little. Harkye; before the night come, she shall hie heralt to the Tower! The king my father—”

“In sooth youalt forget,alt 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 al-

[begin page 62]

ways with his tongue, though, sooth to say. How doth thy mother use thee?”

“She is good, sir, and giveth me neitheralt sorrowalt nor pain of any sort. And Nan and Bet are like to her in this.”

“How old be these?”

“Fifteen, an'alt 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 thyalt sisters forbid their servants to smile, lest the sin destroy their souls?”

“They? O62.11, 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 undress at night?alt who attirethalt them when they rise?”

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

“Their garment! Have they but one?”

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

“It is62.2162.21 a quaint and marvelous thought! Thy pardon—I had not meantalt to laugh. But thy good Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys62.23alt enow—and that soon, too—my cofferer shall look to it.alt No, thank me not—’tis nothing. Thou speakest 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 kindness, from his books.”

“Know'st62.2862.28te thou the Latin?”

“But scantly, sir, I doubt.”alt

“Learn it, lad; 'tis hard onlyalt at first. The Greek is harder; but neither these nor any tongues else, I think,alt are hard to the lady Elizabeth and my cousin. Thou shouldst hear those damsels at it! But tell me of thy Offal Court.62.33 Hastalt 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 playalt do shout and fight 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.”

[begin page 63]

“doff thy rags and don these splendors.”

“Tell me more.”

“We lads of Offal Court63.2 do strive against each other with the cudgel, like to thealt fashion of the 'prentices, sometimes.”

The prince's eyes flashed. Said he—

“Marry,alt that would not I 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 spatter63.963.9te him with water, and dive and shout and tumble and—”

“'Twould be worth my father's kingdom but to enjoyalt it once! Prithee go on.”

[begin page 64]

“We dance and sing about the May-pole in 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!”

“O64.6, prithee, say no more, 'tis glorious64.664.6! If that I could but clothe me in raiment like to thinealt, 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!”alt

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

“Oho,alt wouldst like it? Then so shall it be! Doff thy rags and don these splendors, lad! It is64.1364.13 a brief happiness, but will bealt not less keen for that. We will have it while we may, and change again before any come to molest.”

A fewalt 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! They stared at each other, then at the glass, then at eachalt other again. At last the puzzled princeling said—

“What dost thou make of this?”

“Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer. It isalt not meet that one of my degree should utter the thing.”

“Then will Ialt utter it. Thou hastalt the same hair, the same eyes, the same voice and manner,alt the same form and staturealt, 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 thoualt wert clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more nearly to feel as thou didst when the brutete soldier—harkye, is not this a bruise upon your hand?”

“Yes, but it isalt a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poor man-at-arms—”

“Peace!alt It wasalt a shameful thing and a cruelalt!” cried the littlealt prince, stamping his bare foot.alt “If the king64.3664.36—stir not a step till I come again! It is64.3764.37 a command!”

In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of

[begin page 65]

national importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flying through the palace grounds inalt hisalt bannered rags, with a hot face and glowingalt eyes. As soon as he reached the great gate he seized65.8 the bars and tried to shake them, shouting:

“Open! Unbar the gates!”

The soldier that had maltreated Tom,alt obeyed promptly;alt and as the prince burst through the portal,alt

half smothered with royal wrath,alt the soldier fetched him a sounding box on theearalt that sent him whirling to the roadway,alt and said:

“Take that, thou beggar'salt spawn, for what thou got'stalt me from his highness65.19!”alt

[begin page 66]

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

“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred;alt and thou shaltalt hang for laying thyalt hand upon me!”

Thealt soldier broughtalt his halberdalt to a present-arms and said, mockinglyalt:

“I salute your gracious highnessalt66.7.” Then angrily: “Be off, thoualt crazy rubbish!”

Here the jeeringalt crowd closed around the poor little prince and hustled him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting “Way for his royal highness66.11! way for the Prince of Wales!”

CHAPTER 4 The Prince's Troubles Begin

[begin page 67]

After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution,alt the little prince was at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As longalt 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 usealt 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 fewalt scattered houses in it, and a prodigiousalt church. He recognized this church. Scaffoldings were about,alt everywhere, and swarms of workmen;alt for it was undergoing elaborate repairs. The prince took heart at once—he felt that his troubles were at an end, nowalt. He said to himself, “It isalt the ancient Grey Friars' church, which the king my father hath taken from the monks and given for a home for-

[begin page 68]

ever 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 sonalt 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-men68.8 and 'prentices*alt—that is to say, each had onalt the crown of his head a flat black cap about the size of a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it beingalt 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 bluealt gown that fitted closely and hung as lowalt as the knees or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt; bright yellowalt stockings, gartered above the knees; low shoes with large metal buckles. It was a sufficiently ugly costumean.

[begin page 69]

The boysalt stopped their play and flocked about the prince, who said with native dignity—

“Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales desirethalt 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 facealt 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 am69.14 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 gibbetalt!”

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

[begin page 70]

instead of information. He kept muttering to himself, “Offal Court70.1— that is the name; if I can but find it, beforealt 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,alt and the heart. I will keep this diligently in my remembrance, that this day's lesson be not lost upon me, and my people suffer thereby; for learning softeneth the heart and breedeth gentleness and charity.”*70.12alt

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! If it be so, an'alt I do not break all the bones in thy lean body, then am Ialt not Johnalt Canty, but some other.”

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

“O, art his father, truly? Sweet heaven grant it be so—then wilt thou fetch him away and restore me!”

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

“O, 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!—put forth thy hand and save me!— I am indeed the Prince70.32 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

[begin page 71]

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 foul71.4te court followed by a delighted and noisy swarmalt of human verminalt.

[begin page 72]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 5 Tom as a Patrician

[begin page 73]

Tom canty, left alone in the prince's cabinet,alt made good use of his opportunity. He turned himself this way and that, before the greatalt mirror, admiring his finery; then walked away,alt imitatingalt the prince's high-bred carriage, and still observing results in the glass. Next he drew the beautiful sword, and bowed, kissingalt 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 deliveringalt the great lords of Norfolk andalt 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 sumptuous chairs, and thought howalt proud he would be if the Offal Courtalt herd could only peep in and see him in

[begin page 74]

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.

“next he drew the sword.”

At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the prince was gone a long time; then right away he began to feel lonely; very sóon he fell to listening and longing, and ceased to toy with the pretty things about him; he grewalt 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!alt 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;alt 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 gorgeousalt gentlemen-servantsalt and two young pages of high degree,alt

[begin page 75]

clothed like butterflies,alt sprung75.1 to their feet and bowed low before him. He stepped quickly back and shut the door. He said—

“O, they mock at me! They will go and tell!alt O75.3, why came I here to cast away my life!”

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

“The lady Jane Grey!”

The door closed, and a sweet young girl,alt richly clad, bounded toward him. But she stopped suddenly, and said in a distressed voice—

“O75.14, what aileth thee, my lord?”

Tom's breath was nearly failing him, but he made shift to stammer out—

“Ah, be merciful, thou! In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court75.18 in the Cityalt. Prithee let me see the prince, and he will of his grace restore to me my rags and let me hence unhurt. O75.20, be thou merciful and save me!”

[begin page 76]

“the boy was on his knees.”

By this time the boy was on his knees and supplicating with his eyesalt and uplifted hands as well as with his tongue. The young girl seemed horror-stricken. She cried out—

“O, my lord, on thy knees?—and to me!alt”

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, dreadfulalt 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—

[begin page 77]

“In the name of the king!alt Let none list to this false and foolish matter, uponalt pain of death; nor discuss the same nor carry it abroad. In the name of the king!”

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

Soonalt there was a general buzz along the corridors, of “The prince77.6! See—the prince77.7 comes!”alt

Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, tryingalt to bow in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewildered and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of him, making him lean upon them,alt 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, reclinedalt a very large and very fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a sternalt expression. Hisalt large head was very gray, and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face,—likealt a frame,—were gray also. His clothing was

[begin page 78]

of rich stuff, but old, and slightly frayed in places. One of his swollenalt legs had a pillow under it and was wrapped in bandages. There was silence now;alt and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, exceptalt this man's. This stern-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII.alt He said—and his face grew gentle as he began to speak,—

“How now, my lord Edward, my prince?—Hast been minded to cozenalt me, the good king thy father, who loveth thee and kindlyalt useth thee, with a sorry jest?”

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” fell upon his ear, his face blanched and he dropped as

instantlyalt upon his knees, as if a shotalt had brought him there. Liftingalt up his hands,alt he exclaimed,—

“Thou78.14 the king78.14?alt Thenalt am I undone indeed!”

This speech seemed to stun the king. His eyes wandered from face

[begin page 79]

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.”alt

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 a while, 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 not know thy father, child?alt 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 preserve!”

“True, true—that is well—be comforted, tremble not so; there is none here would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee. Thou artalt better, now;alt thy ill dream passeth—is't not so? And thou knowest79.1979.17 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 gracealt believe me, I did but speak the truth, most dread lord, for I am the meanest among thy subjects, beingalt a pauper born, and 'tis by a sore mischance and accident I am here, albeit I was therein nothing blameful.alt I amalt but young to die—and thou canst save me with one little word—O79.24 speak it, sir!”

“Die? Talk not so, sweet prince—peace, peace to thy troubled heart—thou shalt not die!”

Tomalt dropped upon his knees, with a glad cry,—alt

“God requite thy mercy, oh, my king, and save thee long to bless thy landalt!” Then springing up, he turned a joyful 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, savealt that all bowed, with gravealt respect—but no one spoke. He hesitated, a little confused,alt then turned timidlyalt 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 born and bred to misery,

[begin page 80]

yet which harboreth my mother and my sisters, and so is home to me, whereas these pomps and splendors whereunto I am not used,alt—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, withalt something of hope in his voice—

“Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain, and hath his wits unmarred as toucheth other matters80.8. God send it may be so!80.8 We will make80.9 trial.”

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

“'Twas not according to his schooling and ability, but sheweth that his mind is but diseased, not strickenalt fatally. How say you, sir?”

The physician addressed bowed low and replied—

[begin page 81]

“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 silentalt a moment, embarrassed by having so many eyes centred upon him, then said, diffidently—

“I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please your majesty.”

The king fell back upon his couch; the attendants flew to his assistance. But he put them aside and said—

“Trouble me not—it isalt nothing but a scurvyalt faintness. Raise me!alt—there, 'tis sufficient. Come hither, child; there, rest thy poor troubled head upon thy father's heartalt and be at peace. Thou'lt81.14 soon be well—'tis but a passing fantasy—fear thou not; thou'lt81.15 soon be well.” Then

[begin page 82]

“the king fell back upon his couch.”

he turned toward the company;alt his gentle manner changed, and baleful lightnings began to play from his eyes. He said—alt

“List ye all! This my son is mad—but it isalt not permanent. Over-study hath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement. Away with his books and teachers—see ye to italt! Pleasure him with sports, beguile him in wholesome ways, so that his health come again.” He raised himself higher stillalt, 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 hearalt 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 Princealt of Wales, and I the king will confirm it.82.15tealt This very morrow shall he be installed in his princely dignity,alt in due and ancient form.alt Take instant order for it, my lord Hertfordte.”alt

One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch and said—

“The king's majesty knoweth that the Hereditary Great Marshalalt of England lieth attainted in the Tower. It were not meet that one attainted—”

[begin page 83]

“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 uninstalled because, forsooth, the realm lacketh an earlalt marshal free of treasonable taint to investalt him with his honors? No, by the splendor of God! Warn my parliament to bring me Norfolk's doom beforealt the sun rise again, else shall they answer for it grievously!”*83.6alt

Lord Hertfordalt said—

“The king's will is law;alt” and rising, returned to his former place.

Gradually the wrathalt faded out of the old king's face, and he said—

“Kiss me,alt my prince. There . . . . what fearest83.1083.10 thou? Am I not thy loving father?”

“Thou art good to me, that am unworthy, oh83.12, 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!alt—I know thy heartalt is still the same, even thoughalt thy mind hath suffered hurt—for thou wertalt ever of a gentlealt spirit. But this duke standeth between thee and thine honors;

[begin page 84]

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 italt not I that speed him hence, my liegealt? How long might he not livealt, but foralt me?”

“Take no thought of him, my prince, he is not worthy.alt Kiss me once again and go to thy trifles and amusements, for my malady distresseth me, I am aweary and would rest.alt Go with thine uncle Hertford andalt 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-blow84.11 to the hope he had cherished that now he would be set free. Once more he heard the buzz of low voices exclaiming, “The prince84.13!—the prince84.13 comes!”alt

His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved between the glittering files of bowing courtiers, for he recognized that he was indeed a captive, now, and might remain foreveralt shut up in this gilded84.1684.16 cage, a forlorn and friendlessalt prince, except God in hisalt 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 remembered 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!alt

CHAPTER 6 Tom Receives Instructions

[begin page 85]

Tom was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and made to sit down—a thing which he was loth to do, sincealt there were elderly menalt 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 Earl85.6 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 youalt here, save my lord the Earl85.13 of Hertford?”

[begin page 86]

Observing that Tom did not seem toalt know how to proceed, Hertford whispered him to make a sign with his hand and not trouble himself to speak unless he chose. When the waiting gentlemenalt had retired, lord St. John86.4 said—

“His majesty commandeth, that foralt due and weighty reasons of state, the prince's grace shall hide his infirmity in all ways that be within his power,alt till it be passed and he be as he was before. To wit86.7, 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 receive, without word or sign of protest, that reverence and observance whichalt 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 semblancealt of

[begin page 87]

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 show87.387.3 naught of unrest to the curious that look on, but take advice in that matter of the lord Hertford or myalt humble self, which are commanded of the king to be upon this service and close at call, tillalt this commandment be dissolved. Thus saith the king's majesty, who sendeth greeting to your royal highness and prayeth that God will of His mercy quickly heal you and have you now and ever in His87.9 holy keeping.”

The lord St. John87.10 made reverence and stood aside. Tom replied, resignedly—

“The king hath said it. None may palter with the king's command, or fit it to his ease, where it doth87.13 chafe,alt with deft evasions. The king shall be obeyed.”

Lord Hertfordalt said—

“Touching the king's majesty's ordainment concerning books and such like serious matters, it may peradventure please your highness

[begin page 88]

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's88.4 eyes bent sorrowfully upon him. His lordship said—

“Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown88.688.6 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 speaketh of the city's banquet which the king's majesty did promise, some two months flown, your highness should attend. Thou recallest it now?”

“It grievesalt me to confess it had indeed escaped me,” said Tom, in a hesitating voice;alt and blushed again.

At this moment the lady Elizabeth and the lady Jane Grey were announced. The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford stepped quickly toward the door. As the young girlsalt passed him, he said in a low voice—

“I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humors, nor show88.1888.18 surprise when his memory doth lapse—it willalt grieve you to notealt how it doth stick at every trifle.”

Meantime lord St. John was saying in Tom's ear—

“Please you sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty'salt desire. Remember all thou canst—seem to remember all else. Let them not perceive that thou art muchalt 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 murmured 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,alt the conversation among the young people becamealt a little embarrassing, at times. More than once, in truth, Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his tremendous part;alt 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 lady88.37 Jane turned to Tom and dismayed88.3788.37 him with this question,—

[begin page 89]

“Hast paid thy duty to the queen's majesty to-day89.1, 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 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 italt not so, your highness?”

Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was getting upon dangerous ground89.989.9. Somewhat later it was mentioned that Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship exclaimed—

“Tis a pity, 'tis such a pity! Thou wertalt proceeding bravely. But bide thy time in patience; it will not be for long. Thou'ltalt yet be graced with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many languages as his, good my prince.”alt

[begin page 90]

“My father!” cried Tom, off his guard for the moment. “I trow he cannot speak his own so that any but the swine that wallow90.290.2 in the styes90.390.3te 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's90.4 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”alt hand betweenalt her two palms, respectfully but caressinglyalt; “trouble not thyself as to that. The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper's.”

“Thou'rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,” said Tom, gratefully, “and my heart moveth me to thank thee for't, an'90.12 I may be so bold.”

Once the giddy little lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom. The princessalt Elizabeth's quick eye sawalt by the serene blankness of the target's front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom's behalf, and then straightway90.16–17 changedalt the talk to other matters.

Time wore onalt 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 lovinglyalt bent upon helping him and overlooking90.21 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 reliefalt and delight, for he felt that he should not be friendless, now, among that multitude of strangers; whereas, an hour earlier, the idea of their going with him would have been an insupportable 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 channelalt; 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 charge had been sufficientlyalt taxed for the present, but also that they themselves were not in the best condition to take their ship back and make that90.35tealt anxious voyage all over again. So they respectfully advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was very glad to do, although90.3690.36 a slight shade of disappointment might have been observed upon my lady Jane's face when she heard the splendidalt stripling denied admittance.

[begin page 91]

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—

“Indeedalt your ladyshipsalt canalt 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 yealt good den, and God be with ye!”alt Then he

smiled inwardly at the thought, “'Tis not for naughtalt 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—

“May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some corner and rest me?”

Lord Hertford said—

“So please your highness, it is for youalt to command, it is for usalt to

[begin page 92]

“offered it to him on a golden salver.”

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 gentleman92.492.4 came straightway92.4–5, and conducted Tom to an inner apartment. Tom's first movement, there, was to reach for a cup of water;alt but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized92.7 it, dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver. Nextalt the tired captive sat down and was going to take off his buskins, timidlyalt asking leave with his eye, but another silk-and-velvet discomforter went down upon his kneeste and took the office from him. He made two or three further efforts to help himself, but being promptly forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation and a murmured “Beshrew92.13 me but I marvel they do not require to breathe for me, also!” Slippered, and wrapped in a sump-

[begin page 93]

tuous robe93.193.1, he laid himself93.193.1 down at last to rest, but not to sleepalt, for his head was too full of thoughts and the room too full of people. He could not dismiss the former, so they staid; he did not know enough to dismiss the latter, so they staid also, to his vast regret,—and theirs.tealt

Tom's departure had left his two noble guardians alone. They mused a while, with muchalt head-shaking93.7 and walking the floor, then lord St. John93.8 said—

“Plainly, what dost thou think?”

“Plainly, then, this.alt The king is near his end, my nephew is mad, mad willalt mount the throne, and mad remain. God protect England, sincealt she will need it!”

“Verily it promiseth so, indeed. But . . . . have youalt 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—

“Speakalt on—there is none to hear but me. Misgivings as to what?”

[begin page 94]

“I am full loth94.1 to word the thing that is in myalt 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!94.4alt—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 aforetime. 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—”

“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, else am I ruined.”

[begin page 95]

“he began to pace the floor.”

“I am content, my lord. So thou offend not again, here or in the ear95.2 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 recal how that the old Baronalt Marley, being mad, forgot the favor of his own countenance that he had known for sixty years,alt 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 handalt might shiver it. Give thy misgivings 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.”

[begin page 96]

After some further talk, in which the lord St. John96.1 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 again, the lord Hertfordalt 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,alt the more he was bothered. By and by he began to pace the floor and mutter.alt

“Tush, he must be the prince! Will any he in all the land maintain therealt can be two, not of one blood96.996.9 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 werealt he impostor and called himself96.1396.13 prince, look you that would be natural; that would be reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who, being called prince96.15 by the king, prince by96.15 the court, prince96.16alt by all, denied his dignity and pleaded against96.1696.16altte his exaltation?— No! By the soulalt of St. Swithin, no! This is the true prince, gone mad!96.17”alt

CHAPTER 7 Tom's First Royal Dinner

[begin page 97]

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 tablealt was already set—for one. Its furniture was allalt of massy gold, and beautified with designs which well nigh made it97.797.7 priceless, since they were the work of Benvenuto.alt The room was half filled with noble servitors. A chaplainalt said grace, and Tom was about to fall to, for hunger had long been constitutional with him, but was interrupted by my lord the Earl97.11 of Berkeley, who fastenedalt a napkin about his neck—for the great

[begin page 98]

“fastened a napkin about his neck.”

post of Diaperers to the Princes of Wales was hereditary in this nobleman's family. Tom's cup-bearer was present and forestalled all his attempts to help himself to wine. The Taster to his highness the Prince of Wales was there, also, prepared to taste any suspicious dish upon requirement, and run the risk of being poisoned. He was only an ornamental appendage, at this timealt, and was seldomalt called upon to exercise his functionalt; but there had been times, not many generations past, when the office of Taster had its perils, and was notalt a grandeur to be desired. Why they did not use a dog or a plumber seems strange;alt but all the ways of royalty are strange. My lord d'Arcy, First Groom of the Chamber, was there, to do goodnessalt knows what—but there he was—let that suffice. The Lordalt 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,alt who stood near. Tom had threealt 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 carefulalt to show no surprise at his vagaries. These “vagaries” were soon on exhibition before them; but theyalt 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 inspected his napkin curiously,alt and with deep interest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric— then said,alt with simplicity—

[begin page 99]

“tom ate with his fingers.”

“Prithee take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness it be soiled.”

The Hereditary Diaperer took it away, with reverent 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.*alt 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 italt 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 moment the musclesalt of his nose began to twitch and the end of that organ to lift and wrinkle. This continued, and Tom began to evince a growing distress. He looked appealingly, first at one99.31alt99.31te 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!alt What is the custom and usage in this emergence? Prithee speed, for 'tis but a little time that I can bear it.”

[begin page 100]

None smiledalt, but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to the other in deepalt tribulation for counsel. But behold,alt 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 uncharted100.5 sea,alt or risk the attempt to solvealt this solemn problem. Alas, there was no Hereditary Scratcher! Meantime the tears had overflowed their banks and begun to trickle down Tom'salt cheeks. His twitching nose was pleading more urgently than ever for relief. At last nature100.9tealt 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.alt

His meal being ended, a lord came and held before him a broadalt shallow golden dish with fragrant rose-water in it, to cleanse his mouth and fingers with, and my lordalt 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 draughtalt. Then he returned it to the waiting lord and said—

“Nay, it likes me not, my lord; it hathalt a pretty flavor, but it wanteth strength.”

[begin page 101]

“tom put on the greaves.”

This new eccentricityalt of the prince's ruined mindalt 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 stand behind his chair, and with uplifted handsalt, 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 goldalt. Thisalt 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 without assistance; and for a while was minded to

[begin page 102]

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 Grandalt Hereditaries to pester him with undesired services; soalt he restored the pretty things to their several places, and soon was cracking nuts and feeling almost naturally102.5102.5te 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.alt This was a prize. He lay down upon a sumptuous divan and proceeded to instruct himself, with honest zeal. Let usalt leave him therealt, for the present.te

CHAPTER 8 The Question of the Seal

[begin page 103]

About five o'clock Henry VIIIalt awoke out of an unrefreshing nap, and muttered to himself,alt “Troublousalt dreams, troublous dreams! Mine end is now at hand—so say these warnings, and my failing pulses do confirm it.” Presentlyalt a wicked light flamed upalt in his eye,alt 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 him!” exclaimed the king, 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,alt 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 beforealt my parliament, and with mine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of—”

His voice failed, an ashenalt 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 comethalt and I am robbed of this so coveted chance! But speed ye, speed ye, let others do this happy office sith 'tis denied to me. I put

[begin page 104]

my Great Sealalt in commission—choose thou the lords that shallalt compose it—and get ye to your work. Speed ye,alt 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. Will't please your majesty to order that the Seal be now restored to me, so that I may forth upon the business?”

“The Seal? Who keepethalt the Seal but thou?”

“Please your majesty, you did take it from me two days since105.30,alt saying it should no more do its office till your own royal hand should use it upon the Duke of Norfolk's warrant.”

“Why so in sooth I did; I do remember it.alt . . . . . . 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 intoalt inarticulate mumblings, shaking his gray head weakly, from timealt to time, and gropingly trying to recollect what he had done with 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,

[begin page 105]

with me, how that you gavealt the Greatalt Seal into the hands of his highness the Prince of Wales to keep against the day that—”105.2

“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 handed105.6. He delivered himself to this effect—

“It grievethalt 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 recal105.10 to mind that he received the Seal.alt 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 arrayalt 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 heartalt 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 presently was silent. After a time he opened his eyes again, and gazedalt vacantly around until his glance rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instantly his face flushed with wrath,—

“What, thou here yet! By thealt gloryalt of God, an'alt 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, lieth in my treasury. And since105.30 the Great Seal hath flown away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy wits? Begone! And harkye—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 Commissionte waste time in giving the royal assent to the workalt of the slavish parliament and appointing the morrow for the beheading of the premier peer of England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk.*alt

[begin page 106]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 9 The River Pageant

[begin page 107]

At nine in the eveningalt the whole vast river-front of the palace was blazing with light. The river itself, as far as the eye could reach, citywards,alt was so thickly covered with watermen's boats and with pleasure-barges, all fringed with colored lanternsalt, and gentlyalt 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 picturealt to see, with its ranks of royal halberdiers in polishedalt armor, and its troops of brilliantly costumed servitors flitting up and down and to and fro107.10107.10 in the hurry of preparation.

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

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.

[begin page 108]

Some of them were decorated with bannersalt and streamers; some with cloth of gold108.2 and arras, embroidered with coats of arms; others with silken flagsalt that had numberless little silver bells fastened to them whichalt shook out tinyalt showers of joyous music whenever the breezes fluttered them; othersalt, of yet higher pretensions, sincealt 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 glossyalt helmet and breast-plate, and a company of musicians.

The advance-guardalt of the expected procession now appeared in the great gateway, a troop of halberdiers. “They were dressedalt 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,108.15 the prince's blazon, woven in gold. Their halberdalt 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 goldalt and crimson liveries 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 civicalt mace; after whom came another, carrying the City's Swordalt; then several sergeants of the city guard, in their full accoutrements and with badges on their sleeves; then the Garter King-at-Armsalt 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 lordalt high chancellor of England, in a robe of scarlet open before and purfled with minever; then a deputation of aldermen, in their scarlet cloaksalt; and then the headsalt 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-chausses, and tookalt their way down the steps. They were of the suite of the French ambassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliersalt of the suite of the Spanish

[begin page 109]

“a troop of halberdiers appeared in the gateway.”

ambassador, clothed in black velvet, unrelieved by any ornament. Following these came several great English nobles, with their attendants.”altan

There was a flourish of trumpets within, and the prince's uncle the future great Duke109.5 of Somerset, emerged from the gateway109.5, arrayedalt in a “doublet of black cloth of gold, and a cloak of crimson satin flowered with gold and ribanded with nets of silver.”alt He turned, doffed his plumed cap, bentalt his body in a low reverence, and began to step backward, bowing at each step. A prolonged trumpet-blastalt followed,alt and a proclamation, “Way for the high and mighty, the lord

[begin page 110]

Edward, Prince of Wales!”—high aloftalt on the palace walls a long line of red tongues of flame leaped forth, with a thunder-crash; the massedalt 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 wasalt “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,alt lined with blue satin, set with pearls and precious stones, and fastened with a clasp of brilliants. About his neck hung the orderalt of the Garter and several princely foreign orders,”alt and wherever light fell upon him, jewels responded with a blinding flash. O, Tomalt Canty, born in a hovel, bred in the gutters of London, familiar with rags and dirt and misery, what a spectacle is this!

CHAPTER 10 The Prince in the Toils

[begin page 111]

We leftte John Canty dragging the rightful prince 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 ragealt against the treatment he was suffering, until John Canty lost what little 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 blowalt descended upon his own wrist. Canty roared out—

“Thou'lt111.10 meddle, wilt thou? Then have thy reward!”

His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler's head; there was a groan, a dim formalt sank to the ground among thete feet of the crowd, and the next moment it lay there in the dark, alone. The mobalt pressed on, their enjoyment nothing disturbed by this episode.

Presently the prince found himself in John Canty's abode,alt 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 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 witheredalt hag with streaming gray hair and malignant eyes. John Canty said to this one—

[begin page 112]

“a dim form sank to the ground.”

“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'alt 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 indignant gaze to the man's face and said—

“'Tis but ill breeding in such as thoualt to command me to speakalt. I tell thee now, as I told thee before, I am Edward Prince of Wales,alt 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 laughteralt. But the effect upon Tom Canty's mother and sisters was different. Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to distress of a different sort. They ran forward with woe andalt dismay in their faces, exclaiming—

[begin page 113]

“O113.1, poor Tom, poor lad!”

The mother fell on her knees before the prince, putalt her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face through her rising tears. Then she said—

“O113.5, 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! O113.12, my child, unsay these words, that be freighted with death for thee, and ruinalt 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 loth to grieve thy heart, but truly have I never looked upon thy face before.”

[begin page 114]

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 wailings.

“Let the show go on!” shouted Canty. “What, Nan! what, Bet! Mannerless wenches, will ye stand in the prince's presence? Upon your knees, ye pauper scum,alt and do him reverence!”

He followed this with another horse-laugh114.8. The girls began to plead timidly for their brother, and Nan said—

“An'alt thou wilt but letalt 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. Tomorrow will he be himself again, and will beg with diligence and come not empty home again.”

This remark sobered the father'salt 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,alt with thy lazy begging!”

The prince said—

“Offend me not with thy sordid matters. I tell thee again I am the king's son.”

A sounding blow upon the prince's shoulderalt fromalt Canty's broad palm, sent him staggeringalt into Goodwifealt Canty's arms, who clasped him to her breast and sheltered him from a peltingalt rain of cuffsalt and slaps by interposing her own person.alt The frightened girls retreated to their corner, but the grandmother114.37 stepped eagerly forward to assist her son. The prince sprang away from Mrs. Canty, exclaiming—

[begin page 115]

“Thou shalt not suffer for me, madam. Let these 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,alt and then gave the girls and their mother a beating115.6115.6 for showing sympathy for the victim.

“Now,” said Canty, “to bed, all of ye. The entertainment hasalt tired me.”

The light was put out,alt 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,—altat least for black and tasteless crusts. He was touched by her brave and costly defense115.17 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 devotion go unrewarded. This return to his “madness” broke her heart anew,alt and she strained him to her breast again and again and then went back, drowned in tears, to her bed115.23115.23.

As she layalt thinking and mourning, the suggestion began to creep into her mind that there was an undefinable 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 perceive it. What if the boy were really not her son, after all? O115.29, 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 pursued her, it harassed her, it clung to her, and refused to be put away or ignored. At last she perceived 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 yesalt, 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

[begin page 116]

propose than to accomplish. She turned over in her mind one promising testalt 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 measuredalt breathing was broken by a soft, startled cry, such as one utters in a troubled dream. This chance occurrence furnished her instantly with a plan worth all her labored tests combined.alt She at oncealt set herself feverishly, but noiselessly, to work, to relight her candle, muttering 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 startledalt of a sudden out of his dreamsalt 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 heedfully and warily over him, scarcely breathing, in her suppressed excitement, and suddenly

[begin page 117]

flashed the light in his face and struck the floor by his earalt with her knuckles. The sleeper's eyes sprung117.2 wide open, and he cast a startled stare about him—but he made no specialalt 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 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 oldalt a habit in so brief a time. O117.10, this is a heavy day for me!”

Still, hope was as stubborn, now, as doubt had been before;alt 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 accident; so shealt startled the boy out of his sleep a second and a third time, at intervals—with the same result which had markedalt the first test—then she dragged herself to bed,alt and fell sorrowfully asleep, saying, “But I cannot give him up—O117.18, no, I cannot, I cannot—he must be my boy!”alt

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! dost hear? Man, I did think me changed to a pauper, and . . . . . . Ho there! Guards! Sir William! What! isalt there no groom of the chamberalt in waiting? Alack it shall go hard with—”

“What aileth thee?” asked a whisperalt near him. “Who art thou calling?”

“Sir William Herbert. Who art thou?”

“I? Who should I be, but thy sister Nan? O117.35, Tom, I had forgot!—Thou'rtalt 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!”

[begin page 118]

The startled prince sprang partly up, but a sharp reminder from his stiffened bruises brought him to himself, and he sunk118.2 back among his foul straw with a moanalt and the ejaculation—

“Alas, it was no dream, then!”

In a moment allalt 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 hilariousalt noises and shoutings, apparently but a block or two away.alt The next moment there were several sharp raps at the door, John Canty ceased from snoringalt and said—

“Who knocketh? What wilt thou?”

A voice answered—

“Know'st thou who it wasalt thou laid thy cudgel on?”

“No. Neither know I, nor care.”

“Belike thou'lt change thy note eftsoons. An'alt 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!”

[begin page 119]

“God-a-mercy!” exclaimed Canty. He rousedalt his family, and hoarsely commanded,alt “Up with ye all and fly—or bide where ye are and perish!”

Scarcely five minutes later the Canty household119.4 were in the streetalt and flying for their lives. John Canty held the prince by the wrist, and hurried him along the dark wayalt, givingalt him this caution in a low voice—

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

He growled these words to the rest of the family—

“If it so chance that we be separated, let each make for London Bridge119.13; whoso findeth himself as far as the last linen-draper's shop on the Bridge119.14, let him tarryalt there till the others be come, then will we fleealt 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 multitudealt of singing,

[begin page 120]

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 Bridge120.3 was illuminated; Southwark Bridge120.3, likewise;alt the entire river was aglow with the flash and sheen of colored lights; and constant explosions of fireworks filled the skies with an intricate commingling of shooting splendors and a thickalt rain of dazzlingalt sparks that almostalt 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 hopelesslyalt separated from each other in an instant. We are not considering that the prince was one of his tribe; Cantyalt 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,alt 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,”alt 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,alt” 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 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;alt the waterman120.29, grasping it by one of its handles, and with his otheralt hand bearing up the end of an imaginary napkin, presented it in due and ancient 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.*alt This left the prince hand-freealt for a second, of course. He wasted no time, but dived120.34120.34alt 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.

[begin page 121]

“he wasted no time.”

He very soon realized this fact, and straightway busied himself about his own affairs without further thought of John Canty. He quickly realized another thing, too. To wit121.5, that a spurious Prince of Wales was being feasted by the city in his stead. He easily concluded that the pauper lad, Tom Canty,alt had deliberately taken advantage of his stupendous opportunity and become a usurperalt. Therefore there was but one course to pursue—find his way to the Guildhall, make himself known,alt and denounce the impostoralt. 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.alt

[begin page 122]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 11 At Guildhall

[begin page 123]

The royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet, 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;alt the distant city lay in a soft luminous glow from its countless invisible bonfires; above it rose many a slender spire into the sky, encrusted with sparkling lights, wherefore in their remoteness they seemed like jeweled lances thrust aloft; as the fleet swept along,alt 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 unspeakably sublime and astonishing. To his little friends at his sidealt, the princess Elizabeth and the lady Jane Grey, they were nothing.

Arrived at the Dowgate123.14, the fleet was towedalt 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 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 centre of the ancientalt city of London. Tom disembarked, and he and his gallantalt

[begin page 124]

“a rich canopy of state.”

procession crossed Cheapside and madealt 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 richalt canopy of state124.5124.5te 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 magnates of the city;alt the commoners took places

[begin page 125]

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, contemplated the spectacle below them with eyes grown familiar to it in forgotten generations. There was a bugle-blast and a proclamation, and a fatalt butler appeared in a high perch in the leftward125.5 wall, followed by his servitors bearing with impressivealt solemnityalt a royal Baron of Beef,alt smoking hot and ready for the knife.

After grace,alt Tom (being instructed,) rose—and the whole house with him—and drank from a portly golden loving-cup with the princess Elizabeth; from heralt 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, hanging 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 with pykes” (points a foot long), “turnedalt up. And after them came a knight, then the Lord High Admiral, and with him five nobles, in doublets of crimson velvet, voydedalt low on the back and before to the cannell-bonealt, 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' feathers in them. These were appareled after the fashion of Prussia. The torch-bearers, which were 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.”an

And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon this “wild” dancing, lost in admiration of the dazzling commingling of kaleidoscopic colors which the whirling turmoil of gaudy figures below him presented, the ragged but real little Prince125.37 of Wales was proclaiming his rights and his wrongs, denouncing the impostor, and clamoring for

[begin page 126]

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 sprung126.5 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 ye126.8126.8 again, you126.8126.8 pack of unmannerly curs, I am the Prince of Wales! And all forlorn and friendless 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! Here stand I by thy side to prove it; and mind I tell thee thou might'st have a worser friend thanalt 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 Bazanan inalt 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 disreputable look; at his side he wore a longalt rapier in a rusty iron sheath; his swaggering carriage marked him at once as a ruffler of the camp. The speech of this fantastic figure was received with an explosion of jeers and laughter. Some cried, “ 'Tis another prince in disguise!” “ 'Ware thy tongue, friend, belike he is dangerous!” “Marry,alt he looketh 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, whoalt 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-tide126.35 poured over their prostrate forms and dashed itself against the championalt with undiminished fury. His moments seemed numbered, his destruction certain,alt when suddenly a trumpet-blast sounded, a voice

[begin page 127]

shouted, “Way for the king's messenger!” and a troop of horsemen came charging down upon thealt mob, who fled out of harm's reach as fast as their legs could carry them. The boldalt stranger caught up the prince in his arms, and was soon far away from danger and the multitude.

Return wete within the Guildhall. Suddenly, high above the jubilant roar and thunder of the revel, broke the clear peal of a bugle-note127.7.

“began to lay about him.”

There was instant silence,alt a deep hush; then a single voice rose—that of the messenger from the palace—and began to pipe forth a proclamation, the whole multitude standing, listening. The closing words, solemnly pronounced, were—

“The king is dead!”

The great assemblage bent their heads upon their breasts with one accord; remained so, in profound silence, a few moments;alt then all sunk127.15 upon their knees in a body, stretched out their hands toward Tom, and a mighty shout burst forth that seemed to shake the building—

“Long live the king!”

[begin page 128]

“long live the king!”

Poor Tom'salt 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.te A sudden purpose dawned in his face. He said,alt in a low tone, at lord128.4 Hertford's ear—alt

“Answer me truly, on thy faith and honor!alt 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.”

[begin page 129]

Tom responded, in a strongalt, earnest voice, and with great animation—

“Then shall the king's law be law of mercy, from this dayalt, and never more be law of blood! Up from thy knees and away! To the Tower and say the king decrees the Dukealt of Norfolk shall not die!”*alt

The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip far and wide over the hall, and as Hertfordte hurried from the presence, another prodigiousalt shout burst forth—

“The reign of blood is ended!alt Long live Edward, king of England!”te

[begin page 130]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 12 The Prince and His Deliverer

[begin page 131]

As soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince were clear of the mobalt, they struck down through back lanes and alleys toward the river. Their way was unobstructed until they approached London Bridge131.3; 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 fromalt a thousand voices at once—“The king is dead!” 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 sprung131.11 to his eyes and blurred all objects. For an instant he felt himself the most forlorn, outcastalt, and forsaken of God's creatures—then another cry shook the night with its far-reaching thunders: “Long live 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!”alt

[begin page 132]

Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon the Bridge132.2. This structure, which had stood for six hundred years, and had been a noisy and populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curious affair, for a closely packed rank of stores and shops, with family quarters overhead, stretched along both sides of it,alt from one bankalt of

the river to the other. The Bridge was a sort of town to itself; it had its inn, its beer houses, its bakeries132.7132.7, its haberdasheries, its food markets, its manufacturing industries, and even its church.alt It lookedalt uponalt the two neighbors which it linked together,—London and Southwark—as being well enough, as suburbs, but not otherwise particularly important. It was a close corporation, so to speak; it was a narrow town, of a

[begin page 133]

single street a fifth of a mile long, its population was but a village population, and everybody in it knew allalt his fellow townsmen intimately, and had known their fathers and mothers before them—and all their little family affairs into the bargain. It had its aristocracy, of course—its fine old familiesalt of butchers, and bakers, and what-not, who had occupied the same oldalt premises for five or sixalt hundred years, and knew the great history of the Bridge133.7 from beginning to end, and all its strange legends; and who always talked bridgy talk, and thought bridgy thoughts, and lied in a long, level,alt direct, substantial bridgy way. It wasalt just the sort of population to be narrow and ignorant and self-conceited.alt Children were born on the Bridge, werealt reared there, grew to old age and finally died without ever havingalt set a foot upon any part of the world but London Bridge alone. Such people would naturally imagine that the mightyalt and interminable procession which moved through its street night and day, with its confused roar of shouts and cries, its neighings and bellowings and bleatings and its muffled thunder-tramp, was the one great thing in this world, and themselves somehow the proprietors of it. And so they were, in effect—at leastalt they could exhibit it from their windows,alt and did—for a consideration—whenever a returning king or hero gave it a fleeting splendor, for there was no place like it for affordingalt a long, straight, uninterrupted view of marching columns.

“object-lessons” in english history.

Men born and reared upon the Bridge found life unendurably dull and inane, elsewhere. History tells of one of these who left the Bridgealt at the age of seventy-one and retired to the country. But he could only fret and toss in his bed; he could not go to sleep, the deep stillness was so painful, so awful, so oppressive. When he was worn out with it, at last, he fled back to his old home, a lean and haggard spectre, and fell

[begin page 134]

peacefully to rest and pleasant dreams under the lulling music of the lashingalt waters and the boom and crash and thunder of Londonalt Bridge.te

In the times of which we are writing,alt the Bridge furnished “object-lessons” in Englishalt history, for its children—namely, the livid and decaying heads of renowned men impaled upon iron spikes atop of its gateways.altan But we digress.alt

Hendon's lodgings were in the little inn on the Bridge134.7. As he neared the door with his small friend, a rough voice said—

“So, thou'rt134.9 come at last! Thou'lt134.9 not escape again, I warrant thee; and if pounding thy bones to a pudding can teach thee somewhat, thou'lt134.11 not keep usalt waiting another time, mayhapalt”—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 meddle 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-piece134.19 be sound or cracked, my boy. But whether this scurvyalt ruffian be thy father or no, 'tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and abuse, according to his threat,alt so thou prefer to bide 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 naught 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, I will spit thee like a goose!” said Hendon, barring the way and laying his hand upon his swordalt hilt. Canty drew back. “Now mark ye,” continued Hendon, “I took this lad under my protection when a mob of such as thoualt would have mishandled him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him now to a worser fate?alt—for whether thou art his father or no,—and sooth to say, I think it is a lie—alta 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 over-patient in my nature.”

John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was swal-

[begin page 135]

lowed 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

“john canty moved off.”

a good part of a day and a night, for it was now two or three o'clockalt 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.alt

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

“By the mass, the little beggar takes to one's quarters and usurps

[begin page 136]

one's bed with as natural and easy a grace as if he owned them—with never a by-your-leave or so-please-it-you, or anything of the sort. In his diseased ravings he called himself the Prince136.3 of 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 draweth me strongly to him; already I love the bold-tongued little rascal. How soldier-like he faced the smutty rabble and flung back his high defiance! And what a comely, sweet and gentle face he hath, now that sleep hath conjured away its troubles and its griefs. I will teach him, I will cure his malady;alt yea, I will be his elder136.10136.10 brother, and care for him and watch over him; and whoso would shame him or do him hurt, may order his shroud, for though I be burntalt for it he shall need it!136.13”

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

“See, now, how like a man it was,alt to let him lie here uncovered and fill his body with deadly rheums. Now what shall I do? 'twill wake him

[begin page 137]

to take him up and put him within the bed, and he sorely needeth sleep.”

He looked about for extra covering, but finding none, doffed his doublet and wrapped the lad in it, saying, “I am used to nipping air and scant apparel, 'tis little I shall mind the cold”—then walked up and down the room to keep his blood in motion, soliloquizing, as before.

“His injured mind persuades him he is Prince137.7 of Wales; 'twill be odd to have a Prince137.8 of Wales still with us, now that he that wasalt the princete is prince no more, but king,alt—for this poor mind is set upon the one fantasy137.10, and will not reason out that now it should cast by the prince and call itself the king. . . . . . . . . . If my father liveth still, after these seven years that I have heard naught from home in my foreignalt dungeon, he will welcome the poor lad and give him generous shelter for my sake; so will my good elder brother, Arthur;alt my other brother, Hugh—but I will crack his crown, an' healt interfere, the fox-hearted, ill-conditioned animal! Yes, thither will we fare—and straightway, too.”

A servant entered with a smoking meal, disposed it upon a small deal table, placed the chairs, and took his departure,alt leaving such cheapalt lodgers as these to wait upon themselves. The door slammed after him, and the noise woke the boy, who sprung137.21alt to a sitting posture, andalt shot a glad glance about him; then a grieved look came into his face and he murmured, to himself, with a deep sigh, “Alack, it was but a dream, woe is me.” Next he noticed Miles Hendon's doublet— glanced from that to Hendon, comprehended the sacrifice that had been made for him, and said, gently—

“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 somewhatalt touched with impatience, upon the tall knight of the sword. Hendon was puzzled, and said—

“What's amiss?”

“Good sir, I would wash me.”

[begin page 138]

“O138.1, is that all! Ask no permission of Miles Hendon for aught thou cravest. Make thyself perfectly 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 impatient foot. Hendon was wholly perplexed. Said he—

“Bless us, what is it?”

“Prithee138.8 pour the water, and make not so many words!”

“prithee pour the water.”

Hendon, suppressing a horse-laugh, and saying to himself, “By all the saints, but this is admirable!” stepped brisklyte forward and did the small insolent's bidding,alt then stood by, in a sort of stupefaction until the command, “Come—the towel!” woke him sharply up. He took up a towel,alt from under the boy's138.13138.13 nose, and handed it to him, without comment. He now proceeded to comfort his own facealt 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, thenalt drew back the other chair and was about to place himself at table, when the boy said,alt indignantly—

[begin page 139]

“Forbear! 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 king139.5! Good lack, I must humor the conceit, too—there is no other way—faith,alt he would order me to the Tower,alt 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.alt

While the king ate, a grateful sense of refreshment, both of body and spirit, began to steal over him;139.10–11te the rigor of his royal dignity relaxedalt a little, and with his growing contentment came a desire to talk. He said—

“I think thou callest thyself Miles Hendon, if I heard thee aright?”

“Yes, sire,” Miles replied; then observed to himself, “If I must139.15 humor the poor lad's madness, 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 wouldte 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 * an—139.24139.24 Sir Richard Hendon, of Hendon Hall, by Monk's Holm in Kent.”

“The name hasalt escaped my memory. Go on—tell me thy story.”

“'Tis not much, your majesty, yet perchance it may 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,alt when I last saw him—a ripe rascal at nineteenalt, I being twenty, then, and Arthur twenty-two. There is none other of us but the lady Edith, my cousin—she was sixteen, then—beautiful,

[begin page 140]

“go on—tell me thy story.”

gentle, good, the daughter of an earl, the last of her race, heiressalt of a great fortune and a lapsedalt 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 bade us be of good cheer and hold fast to the hope that delay and luck together would some day give success to our several causes. Hugh loved the lady Edith's fortune, though in truth he said it was herself he loved—but then 'twas his way, alway, to say the 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 bestalt 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 persuasive tongue, with an admirable gift of lying—and these bealt qualities which do mightily assist a blind affection to cozen itself. I was wild—in truth140.15te Ialt might go yet farther and sayalt very wild, though 'twas a wildness of an innocent sort, sincealt it hurt none but me, broughtalt shame to none, nor loss, nor had in it any taintalt of crime or baseness, or what might not beseem mine honorable degree.

“Yet did my brother Hugh turn these faultsalt to good account—he

[begin page 141]

seeing that our brother Arthur's health 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 little worth the telling. Briefly, then, this brotheralt did deftly magnify my faults and makealt them crimes; ending his base work with finding a silken ladder in mine apartments—conveyed thither byalt 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 wasalt taken captive, and during the seven years that have waxed and waned since then, a foreign dungeon hath harbored me. Through wit and courage I wonalt to the free air at last, and fled hither

[begin page 142]

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, itsalt people and belongings. So please you, sir, my meagre tale is told.”

“Thou hast been shamefully abused!alt” said the little king, with a flashing eye. “But I will right thee—by the crossalt will I! The king hath said it.”

Then, fired by the story of Miles's wrongs, he loosed his tongue and poured the history of his own recent misfortunes into the earsalt of his astonished listener. When he had finished, Miles said to himself—

“Lo, what an imagination he hath! Verily this is no common mind; else, crazed or sane, it could not weave so straight and gaudy a tale as this outalt of the airy nothings wherewithalt it hathalt wrought this curious romaunt.alt Poor ruined little head, it shall not lackalt friend or shelter whilst I bide with the living.alt He shall never leave my side; he shall be my pet, my little comrade. And he shall be cured!alt—aye, made whole and sound—then will he make himself a name—and proudalt shall I be to say, ‘Yes, he is mine—I took him, a homeless little ragamuffin, but I saw what was in him, and I said his name would be heard some day—behold him, observe him—was I right?’ ”

The king 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 isalt thine.”

This fantastic suggestion startled Hendon out of his reverie. He was about to thank the king and put the matter aside with saying he had only done his duty andte 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 offer—altan idea which the king gravely approved, remarking that it was best to be not too hasty with a thing of such great import.

Miles reflected during some moments, then said to himself, “Yes, that is the thing to do—by any other means it werealt impossible to get at it—and certes, this hour's experience hasalt taught me 'twould be most wearing and inconvenient to continue it as it is.alt Yes, I will propose it; 'twas a happy accident that I did not throwalt the chance away.” Then he dropped upon one knee and said—

“My poor service went not beyond the limit of a subject's simple

[begin page 143]

duty,alt and therefore hath no merit; but sincealt your majesty is pleased to holdalt it worthy some reward, I take heart of grace to make petition to this effect. Near four hundred years ago, as your grace knoweth,alt there being ill blood betwixt John, king of England,alt and the king of France, it was decreed that two champions should fight together in the lists, and so settle the dispute by what is called the arbitrament of God. These two kings, and the Spanishalt king, being assembled to witnessalt and judge the conflict, the French champion appeared; but so redoubtable was he that our English knights refused to measure weapons with him. So the

“he dropped upon one knee.”

matter, which was a weighty one, was like to go against the English monarchalt by default. Now in the Tower lay the lord de Courcy, the mightiest arm in England, stripped of his honors and possessions, and wasting with long captivity. Appeal was made to him; he gave assent, and came forth arrayed for battle; but no sooner did the Frenchman glimpse his huge frame and hear his famous name 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

[begin page 144]

“rise, sir miles hendon, knight.”

do now, made answer, ‘This, then, I ask, my liege; that I andalt my successors may have and holdalt the privilege of remaining covered in the presence of the kingsalt of England, henceforth while the throne shall last.’ The boon was granted, as your majesty knoweth; andalt there hath been no time, these four hundred years, that that line has failed of an heir; and so, even unto thisalt 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 doan.* 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 wit144.15–16: that I and my heirs, forever, may sit in the presence of the majesty of England!”

“Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight144.18144.18,” said the king, gravely—giving the accolade with Hendon's sword—“rise, andalt seat thyself. Thy petition is granted. Whilst England remains, and the crown continues, the privilege shall not lapse.”alt

His majestyalt walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair

[begin page 145]

at table, observing to himself, “ ‘Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought me a mighty deliverance; my legs are grievouslyalt 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 knight145.5145.5 of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows! A most odd and strange position, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as I. 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 with truth the sweet and generous spirit that is in him.” After a pause: “Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title before folk!—there'd be a merry contrast betwixt my glory and my raiment!alt But no matter: let him call me what he will, so it please him; I shall be content.”

[begin page 146]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 13 The Disappearance of the Prince

[begin page 147]

A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades.alt The king said—

“Remove these rags”—altmeaning his clothing.

Hendon disappareled the boy without dissent or remark, tuckedalt him up in bed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, “He hath taken my bed again, as before—marry, what shall I 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 born 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 noon he rose,alt uncovered his unconscious ward—a section at a time,—altand took his measure with a string. The king awoke, just as he had completed his work, complainedalt of the cold, and asked what he was doing.

“'Tis done, now, my liege,” said Hendon; “I have a bit of business outside, but will presently return; sleep thou again—thou needest it. There—let me cover thy head also—thou'lt147.23 be warm the sooner.”

The king was back in dreamland before this speech was ended.

[begin page 148]

“he dropped asleep.”

Miles slipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course of thirty or fortyalt minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy's clothing, of cheap material, and showing signs of wear;alt 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 womanan in our town,
In our town did dwell—’

“He stirred, methinks—I must sing in a less thunderousalt 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 twoalt will not come amiss in it, likewise. . . . . . . These be very good and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and dry—altan odd new thing to him, belike, since he hasalt doubtless been used to foot it bare, winters and summers the same. . . . . . . Would thread were bread, seeing one gettethalt a year's sufficiencyalt for a farthing, and such a brave big needlealt without cost, for mere love. Now shall I148.19 have the demon's own time to thread it!alt”

And so he had. He did as men have always done, and probably always will do, to the end of time—heldalt the needle still, and tried to thrust the thread through the eye, which is the opposite of a woman's

[begin page 149]

way.altan 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,alt and began his work.

“The innalt is paid—the breakfast that is to come, includedalt—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 awaitsalt us at Hendon Hall—

“ ‘She loved her hus—’

“Body o' me! I have driven the needle under my nail! . . . . . It

[begin page 150]

matters little—'tis not a novelty—yet 'tis not a convenience, neither. . . . . . We shall be merry there, little one, never doubt it! Thy troubles will vanish, there, and likewisealt thy sad distemper—

“ ‘She loved her husband dearilee,
But another man—’

“These be noble large stitches!”—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 mightily paltry and plebeian—

“ ‘She loved her husband dearilee,
But another man he loved she150.11150.11,—alt’

“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!—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. What!”

He threw back the covers—the boy was gone!

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

“Explain, thou limb of Satan, or thy time is come!” roared the man of war, and made so savage a spring toward the waiter that this latter could not find his tongue, for the instant, for fright and surprise. “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;alt and when he woke the lad and gave his message,alt 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—”

[begin page 151]

“explain, thou limb of satan!”

“And so thou'rt151.1 a fool!alt—a fool, and easily cozened—hang all thy breed! Yet mayhap no hurtalt is done. Possiblyalt no harm is meant the boy. I will go fetch him. Make the table ready. Stay! 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!alt Was that youth alone?”

“All alone, your worship151.13.”

“Art sure?”

“Sure, your worship.”alt

“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-altlooking man plunged out from some near place, and just as he was joining them—”alt

“What thenalt?—out with it!” thundered the impatient Hendon, interrupting.

[begin page 152]

“Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and Ialt saw no more, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that the scriveneralt had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to witness that to blame me for that miscarriage were like holding the unborn babe to judgment for sins com—”

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

“hendon followed after him.”

“Even so, your worship—for, as I said before, as to that detestable152.9152.9 joint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than—”

“Art here yetalt! And prating still? Vanish, lest I throttle thee!” The

[begin page 153]

servitor vanished. Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged down the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering,alt “'Tis that scurvy villain that claimed he was his son. I have lost thee, my pooralt little mad master—it isalt a bitter thought—and I had come to love thee so! No! by book and bell,alt notalt lost! Not lost, for I will ransack the land till I find thee again. Poor child, yonderalt is his breakfast—and mine, but I have no hunger now—altso, letalt the rats have it—speed, speed! that is the word!” As he wormed his swift way through the noisy multitudes upon the Bridge153.9, he several times said to himself—altclinging 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.”

[begin page 154]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 14 “le Roi Est Mort—vive le roi”

[begin page 155]

Toward daylight of the same morning,alt 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 impressions,alt and get some sort of meaning out of them, then suddenly he burst out in a rapturousalt but guarded voice—

“I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am indeed awake at last.155.7altte Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Hoalt, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw155.7155.7 and hie ye155.8155.8 hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving155.8155.8 ears the wildest madcapalt dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up to astonish the soul of man withal! . . . . . . . Ho, Nan, I say! Bet! . . . . . .”

A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said—

“Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?”

“Commands? . . . . . . . . O, woe155.14 is me, I know thy voice!alt Speak, thou—who am I?”

[begin page 156]

“Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert156.1156.1 thou the Prince156.1 of Wales, to-day art thou my most gracious liege, Edward, king of England.”

Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmuring plaintively—

“Alack, it was no dream! Go to thy rest, sweet sir—leave me to my sorrows.”alt

“wilt deign to deliver thy commands?”

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,alt when a dwarf onlyalt 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—alt wonderful riches! Yet this was not the best of it; for the dwarf said—

“I know thee. Thou art a good lad and a deserving; thy distresses shall end, for the day of thy reward 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

[begin page 157]

prize, saying to himself, “Every night will I give 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 goodalt 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 enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies into his mother's lap and cried out—

“They are for theealt!—all of them, every one!—for thee and Nan157.9157.9 and Bet—and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!”

The happyalt and astonished motheralt strained him to her breast and exclaimed—

“It waxeth late—may it please your majesty to rise?”

Ah, that was not the answer157.14157.14 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—altand with noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out from the heavy silken curtains uponalt this fine company.

The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after another knelt and paid his court and offeredalt to the little king his condolences upon his heavy loss, whilst 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 Secondalt Gentleman of the Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest, who passed it to the Third Groomte 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 it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it to the Constable of the Tower, who passed it to the Chiefalt Steward of the Household, who passed it to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed it to the Lord High Admiral of England,alt 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 wondering chap, it reminded him of passing buckets at a fire.

[begin page 158]

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 Canterbury with an astounded look and a whispered, “See, my lord!”—pointing to a something connected with the hose. The Archbishop paled, then flushed, andalt passed the hose to the Lordalt High Admiral, whispering, “See, my lord!” The Admiral passed the hose to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, and had hardly breath enough in his body to ejaculate, “See, my lord!” The hose drifted backward along the line, to the Chief Steward of the Household, the Constable of the Tower, Norroy King-at-Arms, 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 tagalt gone from a truss-point158.23–24!—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

[begin page 159]

Buckhounds to regather his vanished strength whilst 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 Tomalt got safely through the purifying stage and was ready for the services of the Hairdresser-royal. When he at length emerged from this 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; andalt as he passed, these fell back, leaving his way free, and dropped upon their knees.

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 askalt Tom's approval 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 decree of the Council of Executorsalt concerning the obsequies of his late most illustrious majesty, and finished by reading the signatures of the Executors, to wit159.24: the Archbishop of Canterbury; the Lord Chancellor of England; William Lord St. John; John Lord Russell; Edward Earl of Hertford; 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 day159.29alt did he say the burial hath been appointed for?”

“The 16th 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 hustledalt out of the way with a very 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 reception of the foreign ambassadors, and desired the king's assent.

[begin page 160]

“a secretary of state presented an order.”

Tom turnedalt 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 household160.6, which had amounted to £28,000 during the preceding six months—a sum so vast that it made Tom Canty gasp;alt he gasped again when the fact appeared that £20,000 of this money were160.9 still owing and unpaid;*analt and once more when it appeared that the king's coffers were about empty,alt and his twelve hundred servants much embarrassed 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

[begin page 161]

no value but to make delay,alt 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 help itself withal. I remember me of a small house that standeth over against the fish-market, by Billingsgate—”

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

Aalt secretary made report that forasmuch as the late king had provided in his will for conferring the ducal degree upon the Earl of Hertford and raising his brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, to the peerage, and likewise Hertford's son to an Earldom,alt together with similar aggrandizements to other great servants of the crown, the Council had resolved to hold a sitting on the 16th 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 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.*alt

Tom was about to blurt out something about the propriety of paying the late king's debts first,alt 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 assent, without spoken comment, but with much inward 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:alt 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 greatalt nobles were his masters; to them his mother was only the creature 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 were read, and proclamations, patents, and all manner of wordy, repetitious and wearisome papers relating to the public business; and at last Tom sighed

[begin page 162]

pathetically and murmured to himself, “In what have I offended, that the good162.2162.2 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 afflict me so?” Then his poor muddled head nodded a while, and presently drooped to his shoulder;alt and the business of the empire came to a stand-still 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,alt with the lady Elizabeth and the little lady Jane Grey though the spirits of the princesses were rather subdued by the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal house;alt and at the end of the visitalt his “elder sister”—afterwards the “Bloody Mary” of history—chilled him with a solemn interviewalt 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,alt whose clothing, except his snowy ruff and the laces about his wrists, was of black,—altdoublet, hose and all. He bore no badge of mourning but a knot of purple ribbon on his shoulder. He advanced hesitatingly, with head bowed and bare, and dropped upon one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat still and contemplated him soberly 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-boy?”

“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?—pretend he knew this lad, and then betray by hisalt every utterance, that he had never heard of him before? No, that would not do. An ideaalt came to his relief: accidents like this might be likely to happen with some frequency, now that business urgencies would often call Hertford and St. John162.36 from his sidealt, they being members of the Council of Executors162.37; therefore perhaps it would be well to strike out a plan himselfalt to meet the requirements of such emer-

[begin page 163]

“the boy rose, and stood at graceful ease.”

gencies. Yes, that would be a wise course—healt would practice on this boy, and see what sort of success he might achieve. So he stroked his brow perplexedly, a moment or two,alt and presently said—

“Now I seem to rememberalt thee somewhat—but my wit is clogged and dim with suffering—”

“Alack, my poor master!” ejaculated the whipping-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 it not—I mend apace—a little clew doth often serve to bringalt me back again the things and names which had escaped me. And not they, only, forsooth,alt but e'en such as I ne'er heard beforealt—as this lad shall see.alt 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,alt—dost remember it?”

“Y-e-s—methinks I do. It isalt not much of a lie—an' I had meddled

[begin page 164]

with the Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice, but forty times. Yes, I do recal164.2 it, now—go on.”

—“The master, being wroth with what he termedalt such slovenly and doltish work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it—and—”

“Whip thee!” said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind. “Why should he whip thee for faults of mine?”

“Ah, your grace forgetteth again. He always164.8 scourgeth me, when thou dost fail in thy lessons.”

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

“O164.12, my liege, what words are these? I, the humblest of thy servants, presume to teach thee?”

“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 naught that needeth simplifying. None may visit the sacred person of the Prince164.17 of Wales with blows; wherefore when he faulteth, 'tis I that take them; and meet it is and right, for that it is mine office and my livelihood.”*alt

Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, “Lo, it is a wonderful thing,—alta most strange and curious trade; I marvel they have not hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me—would heaven they would!—an' they will do this thing,alt 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, according to the promise?”

“No, good your majesty, my punishment was appointed for this day, and peradventure it may be annulled, as unbefittingalt the season of mourning that is come upon us; I know

[begin page 165]

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.”

“O165.7, 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 encouraged 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 art no more Prince165.12 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 less irksome. Then am I ruined, and mine orphan sisters with me!”

“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'lt165.19 need no whipping-boy. Do not turn me away!”

Tom was touched with this pathetic distress. Healt said, with a right royal burst ofalt generosity—

“Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine office shall165.23165.23te be permanent in thee and thy line, forever.” Then he struck the boy a light blow on the shoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming, “Rise, Humphrey Marlow, Hereditary Grand Whipping-Boy to the royal house of England! 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 thealt businessalt of thine office be augmented.”alt

The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly—alt

“Thanks, Oalt most noble master, this princely lavishness doth far surpassalt 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 loth. He was delighted to believe that he was helping in Tom'salt “cure”; for always, as soon as he had finished calling back to Tom's diseased mind the various particulars of his experiences and adventures in

[begin page 166]

the royal school-room and elsewhere about the palace, he noticed that Tom was then able to “recal166.2” 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 orderalt to admit Humphrey to the royal closet wheneveralt he might come, provided the majesty of England was not engaged with other people. Humphrey had hardly been dismissed when my lord Hertfordalt 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 thatalt his majesty should begin toalt dine in public afteralt a day or two—his wholesome complexion and vigorous step, assisted by a166.14 carefully guarded repose of manner and ease and grace of demeanor, would more surelyalt quiet the general pulse—in case any evil rumors had gone about—than any other scheme that could be devised.

[begin page 167]

Then the earl proceeded, very delicately, to instructalt Tom as to the observances proper to the stately occasion, under the ratheralt thin disguise of “reminding” 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 making use of Humphrey in that direction, for Humphrey had mentioned that within a few daysalt he was to begin toalt dine in public;alt having gathered it from the swiftwinged 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 voicealt—

“Now am I persuaded that if your majesty will but tax your memory yet a little further, it will resolve the puzzlealt of the Great Seal—a lossalt which was of moment yesterday, althoughalt of none to-day, sincealt 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 lord?”

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 easilyalt succeeded.alt

[begin page 168]

[blank verso]

CHAPTER 15 Tom as King

[begin page 169]

The next day the foreign ambassadors came, with their gorgeous trains;alt and Tom, throned in awful state,alt received them. The splendors of the scene delighted his eye and fired his imaginationalt, at first, but the audience was longalt and dreary, and so were mostalt of the addresses—wherefore,alt what began as a pleasure, grewalt into weariness and homesickness169.6 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 tolerable169.9169.9 success. He looked sufficiently 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 princelyalt pastimes and recreations were rather a burden to him, than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions and ceremonious observances. However he had a private hour with his whipping-boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both entertainment and needfulalt 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 uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a littlealt used to his circumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not all

[begin page 170]

the time; he found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted and embarrassed170.2 him less and less sharply with every hour that drifted over his head.

Butalt 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 programalt—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 nearalt over the great globe; on that day, tooalt, Hertford would be formally chosen to the grandalt office of Lord Protectoralt; 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.alt

Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so it came. It found poor Tom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood continued; he could not shake it off. 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 Earl170.30 of Hertford and dully awaiting the striking of the hour appointed for a visitalt 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 movement of the great highway beyond the

[begin page 171]

palace gates—and not idly interested, but longing with all his heart to take part in person in its stir and freedom—sawalt 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!” solemnlyalt responded the earl, with a reverence. “Have I your grace's leave to act?”

“O blithely, yes! O gladly yes!” exclaimedalt Tom, excitedly, adding to himself with a lively sense of satisfaction, “In truth, beingalt a king is not all dreariness—it hath its compensations and conveniences.”

The earl called a page, and sent him to the captain of the guard with the order—

“Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning the occasion of its movement. By the king's command!alt”

A few seconds later a long rank of the royal guards, cased in flashingalt steel, filed out at the gates and formed across the highway171.17alt 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 unfortunates! The thought wrung Tom's heart-strings171.22. 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 grislyalt fate hanging over the heads of the condemned. His concern evenalt made him171.27te forget, for the moment, that he was butalt 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;alt 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 backwards out of the room to deliver the command. Tom experienced a glowalt of pride and a renewed sense of the compensating advantagesalt of the kingly office. He said to himself, “Truly it is like what I was used to feel when I read the old priest's

[begin page 172]

“tom scanned the prisoners.”

tales, and did imagine mine own self a prince, giving law and command to all, saying ‘do this, do that,’ whilst none durst offer let or hindrance to my will.”

Now the doors swung open;alt one high-sounding title after another was announced, the personages owning them followed, and the place was quickly half filled with noble folkalt 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,alt and turned his eyes upon the door with manifestationsalt of impatient expectancy; seeing which, the company forbore to trouble him, and fell to chatting a mixture of publicalt business and court gossip one with another.alt

In a littlealt while the measured tread of military men was heard approaching, and the culprits entered the presence in charge of analt under-sheriff and escorted by a detail of the King's Guard172.15. The civil

[begin page 173]

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 had173.4173.4 stirredalt a vague memory in him. “Methinks I have seen this man ere now . . . . . but the when or the where fail me”—such was Tom's thought. Just then the man glanced meekly173.7te up, and quickly dropped his face again, not being able to endure the awful port of sovereignty;alt 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 strangeralt that plucked Giles Witt out of the Thames,alt and saved his life,alt that windy, bitter, first day of the New Year—a brave good deed—pity he hath been doing baseralt ones and got himself in this sad case. . . . . . I have not forgot the day, neitheralt the hour; by reason that an hour after, upon the stroke of eleven,alt 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 caressesalt by comparison.”

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

“Good sir, what is this man's offense?”

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 admiration of him as the daring rescuer of a drowning boy, experienced a most damaging shock.

“The thing was proven upon him?” he asked.alt

“Most clearly, sire.”

Tom sighed, and said—

“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 sudden energy, and wrung them despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the “king” in broken and terrified phrases—

“O 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;alt the judgment is gone forth against me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine

[begin page 174]

extremity I beg a boon, for my doom is more than I can bear. A grace, a grace, my lord the king!alt in thy royal compassion grant my prayer—give commandment that I be hanged!”

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

“Odds my life, a strange boon!alt Was italt not the fate intended thee?”

“O good my liege, not so! It is ordered that I be boiled alive!”alt

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 poisoned a hundred men thou shouldst not suffer so miserable aalt death.”

The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into passionate expressions of gratitude—ending with—

“If ever thou shouldst know misfortune—which God forefend!—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 ferociousalt 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—”

“O prithee no more, my lord, I cannot bear it!” cried Tom,alt covering his eyes with his hands to shut out the picture. “I beseech your good lordship that order be taken to change this law—O174.23, let no more poor creatures be visited with its tortures.”

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

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

The under-sheriff was about to remove his prisoner; Tom gave him a sign to wait; then he said—te

“Good sir, I would look into this matter further. The man hasalt 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 enteredalt into a house in the hamlet of Islington where one lay sick—three witnesses say it was at tenalt 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

[begin page 175]

went his way. The sick man died within the hour,alt being torn with spasms and retchings.”

“Did any see the poison given? Was poison found?”

“Marry, no, my liege.175.4”

“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.”te

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

“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.alt Many testified that a witch, since gone from the village, none know whither, did foretell, and speak it privately in their ears, that the sickalt 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 this prisoner doth answer woundily to the bill. Please your majesty to give the circumstance that solemn weight which is its due, seeingalt it was foretold.”

This was an argument of tremendous force, in that superstitious day.alt Tom felt that the thing was settled;alt if evidence was worth anything, this poor fellow's guilt was proved. Still he offered the prisoner a chance, saying—

“If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, speak.”

“Naught that will avail, my kingalt. I am innocent, 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,alt I was above a league away, seeing I was at Wapping Old Stairs; yea more, my king, for I could show, that whilst they say I was taking life, I was saving it. A drowning boy—”

“Peace! Sheriff, name the day the deed was done!”

“At ten in the morning, or some minutes later,alt the first day of the New Year175.33, most illustrious—”

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

Another blush followed this unregal outburst175.35, and he covered his indecorum as well as he could by adding—

“It enrageth me that a man should be hanged upon such idle, hare-brained175.37–38175.37–38 evidence!”

[begin page 176]

A low buzz of admirationalt swept through the assemblage. It was not admiration of the decreealt that had been deliveredalt 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 disposal 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 gratifying sensations.

[begin page 177]

However, his juvenile curiosity soon rose superior177.1 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 creatures were brought before him.

“What is it that these have done?” he inquired of the sheriff.

“Please your majesty, a black crime is charged uponalt them, and clearly proven; wherefore the judges have decreed, according to the law, that they be hanged. They sold themselves to the devil—such is their crime.”

Tomalt 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.”

“what is it that these have done?”

“Have these confessed?”

“Nay, not so, sire—they do deny it.”

“Then prithee, how was it known?”

“Certain witnessesalt did see them wending thither, good your majesty; this bred thealt 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 is177.35 serious matterte.” Tom turnedalt 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

[begin page 178]

of the wisdom of this question. The sheriff, however, saw nothing consequential in the inquiry; he answered, with simple directness—

“Indeed, did she, your majesty, and most righteously, 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 dearlyalt 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 madalt 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'alt the king be mad himself, according to report, then it is a madness of a sort that would improve the sanity of some I wot of, if by the gentle providence of God they could but catch it.”

“What age hath the child?”alt 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.alt

“several old heads nodded their recognition.”

“The law doth not permit a child to make or meddle in any weighty matter, good my liege, holding that its callow wit unfitteth it to cope with the riper wit and evil schemings of them that are its elders. The devilalt 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.”alt

“It seemeth a rude unchristian thing, and ill contrived, that English law denieth privileges to Englishmen, to waste them on the devil!” cried Tom, with honest heat.

[begin page 179]

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 stockingsalt, sire.”

This astonished Tom, and also fired his curiosityalt to fever heat. He said,alt eagerly—

“It is wonderful!alt Hath it always this dread effect?”

“Always, my liege—altat least if the woman doth179.13 desirete it, and utter the needful words, eitheralt in her mind or with her tongue.”

Tom turned to the woman, and said with impetuous zeal—

“Exert thy power—I would see a storm!”

There was a sudden paling of cheeks in the superstitious assemblage, and a general, though unexpressed, desire to get out of the place—all of which was lost upon Tom, who was dead to everything but the proposed cataclysm. Seeing a puzzled and astonished look in the woman's face, he added, excitedly—

“Never fear—thou shalt be blameless. More—thou shalt go free—none shall touch thee. Exert thy power.”

“O179.24, 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 naught 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,alt else she would gladly win her child's life, alone,alt and be content to lose her own, if by obediencealt to the king's command so precious a grace might be acquired.alt

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

“I think the woman hath said true. An'alt myalt 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 wholealt land in ruins, ifalt the

[begin page 180]

saving of my forfeit life were the price she got! It is argument that other mothers are made in like mould.alt Thou art free, goodwife180.2—thou and thy child—for I do think thee innocent. Now thou'st naught to fear, being pardoned—pull off thy stockings!—an' thou canst make me a storm, thou shalt be rich!”

The redeemed creature was loud in her gratitude, and proceeded to obey, whilst Tom looked on with eageralt expectancy, a little marred by apprehension;alt the courtiers at the same timealt 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 earthquake180.11, but it was all a failure and a disappointment. Tom sighed, and said—

“There, good soul, trouble thyself no further, thy poweralt 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.”*180.15alt