diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:54 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:54 -0700 |
| commit | a2555af0f1b05bfd72e58481fe2fcf3f3f2290e8 (patch) | |
| tree | 31f1c1b44d43097d9c8aa9a4fecb18c4e52e0e4d /old/orig1837-h/p4.htm | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old/orig1837-h/p4.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/orig1837-h/p4.htm | 1353 |
1 files changed, 1353 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/orig1837-h/p4.htm b/old/orig1837-h/p4.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ddd08e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/orig1837-h/p4.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1353 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER, By Mark Twain, Part 4.</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97% } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + <a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="1837-h.htm">Main Index</a> +</td><td> + <a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a> +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<center> +<h1>THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER</h1> +<br><br> +<h2>by Mark Twain +<br><br><br><br>Part Four +</h2> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="bookcover.jpg (148K)" src="images/bookcover.jpg" height="1018" width="948"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="frontispiece1.jpg (135K)" src="images/frontispiece1.jpg" height="1067" width="745"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="frontispiece2.jpg (123K)" src="images/frontispiece2.jpg" height="939" width="747"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (62K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" height="1083" width="815"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="greatseal.jpg (68K)" src="images/greatseal.jpg" height="438" width="711"> +<br>The Great Seal +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="dedication.jpg (21K)" src="images/dedication.jpg" height="420" width="663"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="inscription.jpg (16K)" src="images/inscription.jpg" height="219" width="601"> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br> + +<br><br> +<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> +<b> +I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one who had it of his +father, which latter had it of HIS father, this last having in like +manner had it of HIS father—and so on, back and still back, three +hundred years and more, the fathers transmitting it to the sons and so +preserving it. It may be history, it may be only a legend, a tradition. +It may have happened, it may not have happened: but it COULD have +happened. It may be that the wise and the learned believed it in the old +days; it may be that only the unlearned and the simple loved it and +credited it.</b> +</blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> + +<br><br><br><br> + + + + +<h2> +CONTENTS</h2> + + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +XII. </td><td><a href="#c12">The Prince and his deliverer.</a><br></td></tr><tr><td> +XIII. </td><td><a href="#c13">The disappearance of the Prince.</a><br></td></tr><tr><td> +XIV. </td><td><a href="#c14">'Le Roi est mort—vive le Roi.'</a><br></td></tr> + + + + +</table> +</center> + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + + +<a href="#12-131">THE PRINCE AND HIS DELIVERER</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-134">"OUR FRIENDS THREADED THEIR WAY"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-136">"OBJECT LESSONS" IN ENGLISH HISTORY</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-137">"JOHN CANTY MOVED OFF"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-139">"SMOOTHING BACK THE TANGLED CURLS"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-141">"PRITHEE, POUR THE WATER"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-142">"GO ON—TELL ME THY STORY</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-145">"THOU HAST BEEN SHAMEFULLY ABUSED"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-146">"HE DROPPED ON ONE KNEE"</a><br><br> +<a href="#12-148">"RISE, SIR MILES HENDON, BARONET"</a><br><br> +<a href="#13-149">THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE PRINCE</a><br><br> +<a href="#13-151">"HE DROPPED ASLEEP"</a><br><br> +<a href="#13-153">"THESE BE VERY GOOD AND SOUND"</a><br><br> +<a href="#13-155">"EXPLAIN, THOU LIMB OF SATAN"</a><br><br> +<a href="#13-156">"HENDON FOLLOWED AFTER HIM"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-159">"LE ROI EST MORT-VIVE LE ROI"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-162">"WILT DEIGN TO DELIVER THY COMMANDS?"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-164">"LORD OF THE BEDCHAMBER"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-166">"A SECRETARY OF STATE"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-170">"STOOD AT GRACEFUL EASE"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-172">"'TIS I THAT TAKE THEM"</a><br><br> +<a href="#14-175">"BUT TAX YOUR MEMORY"</a><br><br> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + + + + + +<br><br><hr><br> +<br><br> +<a name="c12"></a> +<a name="12-131"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-131.jpg (62K)" src="images/12-131.jpg" height="578" width="589"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>Chapter XII. The Prince and his deliverer.</p> + +<p>As soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince were clear of the mob, they +struck down through back lanes and alleys toward the river. Their way +was unobstructed until they approached London Bridge; then they ploughed +into the multitude again, Hendon keeping a fast grip upon the +Prince's—no, the King's—wrist. The tremendous news was already abroad, and the +boy learned it from a thousand voices at once—"The King is dead!" The +tidings struck a chill to the heart of the poor little waif, and sent a +shudder through his frame. He realised 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 sprang to +his eyes and blurred all objects. For an instant he felt himself the +most forlorn, outcast, and forsaken of God's creatures—then another cry +shook the night with its far-reaching thunders: "Long 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!"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-134"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-134.jpg (116K)" src="images/12-134.jpg" height="679" width="597"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon the +bridge. This structure, which had stood for six hundred years, and had +been a noisy and populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curious +affair, for a closely packed rank of stores and shops, with family +quarters overhead, stretched along both sides of it, from one bank of the +river to the other. The Bridge was a sort of town to itself; it had its +inn, its beer-houses, its bakeries, its haberdasheries, its food markets, +its manufacturing industries, and even its church. It looked upon the +two neighbours 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 single +street a fifth of a mile long, its population was but a village +population and everybody in it knew all 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 families of butchers, and bakers, and what-not, who had occupied +the same old premises for five or six hundred years, and knew the great +history of the Bridge 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, direct, substantial bridgy way. It was just the sort +of population to be narrow and ignorant and self-conceited. Children were +born on the Bridge, were reared there, grew to old age, and finally died +without ever having set a foot upon any part of the world but London +Bridge alone. Such people would naturally imagine that the mighty and +interminable procession which moved through its street night and day, +with its confused roar of shouts and cries, its neighings and bellowing +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 least they could exhibit it from their windows, and +did—for a consideration—whenever a returning king or hero gave it a +fleeting splendour, for there was no place like it for affording a long, +straight, uninterrupted view of marching columns.</p> + +<p>Men born and reared upon the Bridge found life unendurably dull and inane +elsewhere. History tells of one of these who left the Bridge 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 +peacefully to rest and pleasant dreams under the lulling music of the +lashing waters and the boom and crash and thunder of London Bridge.</p> + +<p>In the times of which we are writing, the Bridge furnished 'object +lessons' in English history for its children—namely, the livid and +decaying heads of renowned men impaled upon iron spikes atop of its +gateways. But we digress.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-136"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-136.jpg (35K)" src="images/12-136.jpg" height="419" width="363"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Hendon's lodgings were in the little inn on the Bridge. As he neared the +door with his small friend, a rough voice said—</p> + +<p>"So, thou'rt come at last! Thou'lt not escape again, I warrant thee; and +if pounding thy bones to a pudding can teach thee somewhat, thou'lt not +keep us waiting another time, mayhap,"—and John Canty put out his hand to +seize the boy.</p> + +<p>Miles Hendon stepped in the way and said—</p> + +<p>"Not too fast, friend. Thou art needlessly rough, methinks. What is the +lad to thee?"</p> + +<p>"If it be any business of thine to make and meddle in others' affairs, he +is my son."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a lie!" cried the little King, hotly.</p> + +<p>"Boldly said, and I believe thee, whether thy small headpiece be sound or +cracked, my boy. But whether this scurvy ruffian be thy father or no, +'tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and abuse, according to +his threat, so thou prefer to bide with me."</p> + +<p>"I do, I do—I know him not, I loathe him, and will die before I will go +with him."</p> + +<p>"Then 'tis settled, and there is nought more to say."</p> + +<p>"We will see, as to that!" exclaimed John Canty, striding past Hendon to +get at the boy; "by force shall he—"</p> + +<p>"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 sword +hilt. Canty drew back. "Now mark ye," continued Hendon, "I took this +lad under my protection when a mob of such as thou would have mishandled +him, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him now to a worser +fate?—for whether thou art his father or no—and sooth to say, I think +it is a lie—a decent swift death were better for such a lad than life in +such brute hands as thine. So go thy ways, and set quick about it, for I +like not much bandying of words, being not over-patient in my nature."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-137"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-137.jpg (107K)" src="images/12-137.jpg" height="620" width="577"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was swallowed +from sight in the crowd. Hendon ascended three flights of stairs to his +room, with his charge, after ordering a meal to be sent thither. It was +a poor apartment, with a shabby bed and some odds and ends of old +furniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly candles. +The little King dragged himself to the bed and lay down upon it, almost +exhausted with hunger and fatigue. He had been on his feet a good part +of a day and a night (for it was now two or three o'clock in the +morning), and had eaten nothing meantime. He murmured drowsily—</p> + +<p>"Prithee call me when the table is spread," and sank into a deep sleep +immediately.</p> + +<p>A smile twinkled in Hendon's eye, and he said to himself—</p> + +<p>"By the mass, the little beggar takes to one's quarters and usurps 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 Prince 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; yea, I will be his elder +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 burnt for it he +shall need it!"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-139"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-139.jpg (110K)" src="images/12-139.jpg" height="612" width="712"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>He bent over the boy and contemplated him with kind and pitying interest, +tapping the young cheek tenderly and smoothing back the tangled curls +with his great brown hand. A slight shiver passed over the boy's form. +Hendon muttered—</p> + +<p>"See, now, how like a man it was to let him lie here uncovered and fill +his body with deadly rheums. Now what shall I do? 'twill wake him to +take him up and put him within the bed, and he sorely needeth sleep."</p> + +<p>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, soliloquising as before.</p> + +<p>"His injured mind persuades him he is Prince of Wales; 'twill be odd to +have a Prince of Wales still with us, now that he that WAS the prince is +prince no more, but king—for this poor mind is set upon the one fantasy, +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 nought from home in my foreign dungeon, he will welcome +the poor lad and give him generous shelter for my sake; so will my good +elder brother, Arthur; my other brother, Hugh—but I will crack his crown +an HE interfere, the fox-hearted, ill-conditioned animal! Yes, thither +will we fare—and straightway, too."</p> + +<p>A servant entered with a smoking meal, disposed it upon a small deal +table, placed the chairs, and took his departure, leaving such cheap +lodgers as these to wait upon themselves. The door slammed after him, +and the noise woke the boy, who sprang to a sitting posture, and 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—</p> + +<p>"Thou art good to me, yes, thou art very good to me. Take it and put it +on—I shall not need it more."</p> + +<p>Then he got up and walked to the washstand in the corner and stood there, +waiting. Hendon said in a cheery voice—</p> + +<p>"We'll have a right hearty sup and bite, now, for everything is savoury +and smoking hot, and that and thy nap together will make thee a little +man again, never fear!"</p> + +<p>The boy made no answer, but bent a steady look, that was filled with +grave surprise, and also somewhat touched with impatience, upon the tall +knight of the sword. Hendon was puzzled, and said—</p> + +<p>"What's amiss?"</p> + +<p>"Good sir, I would wash me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, 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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Bless us, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Prithee pour the water, and make not so many words!"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-141"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-141.jpg (125K)" src="images/12-141.jpg" height="736" width="730"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Hendon, suppressing a horse-laugh, and saying to himself, "By all the +saints, but this is admirable!" stepped briskly forward and did the small +insolent's bidding; then stood by, in a sort of stupefaction, until the +command, "Come—the towel!" woke him sharply up. He took up a towel, +from under the boy's nose, and handed it to him without comment. He now +proceeded to comfort his own face with a wash, and while he was at it his +adopted child seated himself at the table and prepared to fall to. +Hendon despatched his ablutions with alacrity, then drew back the other +chair and was about to place himself at table, when the boy said, +indignantly—</p> + +<p>"Forbear! Wouldst sit in the presence of the King?"</p> + +<p>This blow staggered Hendon to his foundations. He muttered to himself, +"Lo, the poor thing's madness is up with the time! It hath changed with +the great change that is come to the realm, and now in fancy is he KING! +Good lack, I must humour the conceit, too—there is no other way—faith, +he would order me to the Tower, else!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>While the King ate, the rigour of his royal dignity relaxed 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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sire," Miles replied; then observed to himself, "If I MUST humour +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."</p> + +<p>The King warmed his heart with a second glass of wine, and said—"I would +know thee—tell me thy story. Thou hast a gallant way with thee, and a +noble—art nobly born?"</p> + +<p>"We are of the tail of the nobility, good your Majesty. My father is a +baronet—one of the smaller lords by knight service {2}—Sir Richard +Hendon of Hendon Hall, by Monk's Holm in Kent."</p> + +<p>"The name has escaped my memory. Go on—tell me thy story."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-142"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-142.jpg (102K)" src="images/12-142.jpg" height="612" width="723"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"'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, when I last saw him—a ripe rascal at nineteen, 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, gentle, good, the +daughter of an earl, the last of her race, heiress of a great fortune and +a lapsed title. My father was her guardian. I loved her and she loved +me; but she was betrothed to Arthur from the cradle, and Sir Richard +would not suffer the contract to be broken. Arthur loved another maid, +and 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 best of us all, and trusted and +believed him; for he was the youngest child, and others hated him—these +qualities being in all ages sufficient to win a parent's dearest love; +and he had a smooth persuasive tongue, with an admirable gift of +lying—and these be qualities which do mightily assist a blind affection to +cozen itself. I was wild—in troth I might go yet farther and say VERY +wild, though 'twas a wildness of an innocent sort, since it hurt none but +me, brought shame to none, nor loss, nor had in it any taint of crime or +baseness, or what might not beseem mine honourable degree.</p> + +<p>"Yet did my brother Hugh turn these faults to good account—he 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 brother did deftly magnify my faults and make them crimes; ending +his base work with finding a silken ladder in mine apartments—conveyed +thither by his own means—and did convince my father by this, and +suborned evidence of servants and other lying knaves, that I was minded +to carry off my Edith and marry with her in rank defiance of his will.</p> + +<p>"Three years of banishment from home and England might make a soldier and +a man of me, my father said, and teach me some degree of wisdom. I +fought out my long probation in the continental wars, tasting sumptuously +of hard knocks, privation, and adventure; but in my last battle I was +taken captive, and during the seven years that have waxed and waned since +then, a foreign dungeon hath harboured me. Through wit and courage I won +to the free air at last, and fled hither straight; and am but just +arrived, right poor in purse and raiment, and poorer still in knowledge +of what these dull seven years have wrought at Hendon Hall, its people +and belongings. So please you, sir, my meagre tale is told."</p> + +<p>"Thou hast been shamefully abused!" said the little King, with a flashing +eye. "But I will right thee—by the cross will I! The King hath said +it."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-145"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-145.jpg (79K)" src="images/12-145.jpg" height="589" width="533"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Then, fired by the story of Miles's wrongs, he loosed his tongue and +poured the history of his own recent misfortunes into the ears of his +astonished listener. When he had finished, Miles said to himself—</p> + +<p>"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 +out of the airy nothings wherewith it hath wrought this curious romaunt. +Poor ruined little head, it shall not lack friend or shelter whilst I +bide with the living. He shall never leave my side; he shall be my pet, +my little comrade. And he shall be cured!—ay, made whole and +sound—then will he make himself a name—and proud shall I be to say, 'Yes, he +is mine—I took him, a homeless little 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?'"</p> + +<p>The King spoke—in a thoughtful, measured voice—</p> + +<p>"Thou didst save me injury and shame, perchance my life, and so my crown. +Such service demandeth rich reward. Name thy desire, and so it be within +the compass of my royal power, it is thine."</p> + +<p>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 and desired no reward, but a wiser thought came into his +head, and he asked leave to be silent a few moments and consider the +gracious offer—an idea which the King gravely approved, remarking that +it was best to be not too hasty with a thing of such great import.</p> + +<p>Miles reflected during some moments, then said to himself, "Yes, that is +the thing to do—by any other means it were impossible to get at it—and +certes, this hour's experience has taught me 'twould be most wearing and +inconvenient to continue it as it is. Yes, I will propose it; 'twas a +happy accident that I did not throw the chance away." Then he dropped +upon one knee and said—</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-146"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-146.jpg (100K)" src="images/12-146.jpg" height="592" width="721"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"My poor service went not beyond the limit of a subject's simple duty, +and therefore hath no merit; but since your Majesty is pleased to hold it +worthy some reward, I take heart of grace to make petition to this +effect. Near four hundred years ago, as your grace knoweth, there being +ill blood betwixt John, King of England, and the King of France, it was +decreed that two champions should fight together in the lists, and so +settle the dispute by what is called the arbitrament of God. These two +kings, and the Spanish king, being assembled to witness 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 matter, +which was a weighty one, was like to go against the English monarch by +default. Now in the Tower lay the Lord de Courcy, the mightiest arm in +England, stripped of his honours 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 do now, made answer, +'This, then, I ask, my liege; that I and my successors may have and hold +the privilege of remaining covered in the presence of the kings of +England, henceforth while the throne shall last.' The boon was granted, +as your Majesty knoweth; and there hath been no time, these four hundred +years, that that line has failed of an heir; and so, even unto this day, +the head of that ancient house still weareth his hat or helm before the +King's Majesty, without let or hindrance, and this none other may do. {3} +Invoking this precedent in aid of my prayer, I beseech the King to grant +to me but this one grace and privilege—to my more than sufficient +reward—and none other, to wit: that I and my heirs, for ever, may SIT +in the presence of the Majesty of England!"</p> + +<p>"Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight," said the King, gravely—giving the +accolade with Hendon's sword—"rise, and seat thyself. Thy petition is +granted. Whilst England remains, and the crown continues, the privilege +shall not lapse."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-148"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-148.jpg (127K)" src="images/12-148.jpg" height="766" width="724"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>His Majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair at +table, observing to himself, "'Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought me +a mighty deliverance; my legs are grievously wearied. An I had not +thought of that, I must have had to stand for weeks, till my poor lad's +wits are cured." After a little, he went on, "And so I am become a +knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows! A most odd and strange +position, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as 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! But no matter, let him +call me what he will, so it please him; I shall be content."</p> + + +<br><br><hr><br> +<br><br> +<a name="c13"></a> +<a name="13-149"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="13-149.jpg (41K)" src="images/13-149.jpg" height="350" width="694"> +</center> +<br><br> +<a name="13-151"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="13-151.jpg (124K)" src="images/13-151.jpg" height="872" width="722"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<p>Chapter XIII. The disappearance of the Prince.</p> + +<p>A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades. The King said—</p> + +<p>"Remove these rags."—meaning his clothing.</p> + +<p>Hendon disapparelled the boy without dissent or remark, tucked him up in +bed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, "He hath +taken my bed again, as before—marry, what shall _I_ do?" The little +King observed his perplexity, and dissipated it with a word. He said, +sleepily—</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt sleep athwart the door, and guard it." In a moment more he +was out of his troubles, in a deep slumber.</p> + +<p>"Dear heart, he should have been born a king!" muttered Hendon, +admiringly; "he playeth the part to a marvel."</p> + +<p>Then he stretched himself across the door, on the floor, saying +contentedly—</p> + +<p>"I have lodged worse for seven years; 'twould be but ill gratitude to Him +above to find fault with this."</p> + +<p>He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared. Toward noon he rose, uncovered +his unconscious ward—a section at a time—and took his measure with a +string. The King awoke, just as he had completed his work, complained of +the cold, and asked what he was doing.</p> + +<p>"'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'lt be warm the sooner."</p> + +<p>The King was back in dreamland before this speech was ended. Miles +slipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course of +thirty or forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy's +clothing, of cheap material, and showing signs of wear; but tidy, and +suited to the season of the year. He seated himself, and began to +overhaul his purchase, mumbling to himself—</p> + +<p>"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—</p> +<center> +<p>"'There was a woman in our town, +<br>In our town did dwell—'</p> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="13-153"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="13-153.jpg (83K)" src="images/13-153.jpg" height="644" width="488"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>"He stirred, methinks—I must sing in a less thunderous key; 'tis not +good to mar his sleep, with this journey before him, and he so wearied +out, poor chap . . . This garment—'tis well enough—a stitch here and +another one there will set it aright. This other is better, albeit a +stitch or two will not come amiss in it, likewise . . . THESE be very +good and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and dry—an odd new +thing to him, belike, since he has doubtless been used to foot it bare, +winters and summers the same . . . Would thread were bread, seeing one +getteth a year's sufficiency for a farthing, and such a brave big needle +without cost, for mere love. Now shall I have the demon's own time to +thread it!"</p> + +<p>And so he had. He did as men have always done, and probably always will +do, to the end of time—held the needle still, and tried to thrust the +thread through the eye, which is the opposite of a woman's way. Time and +time again the thread missed the mark, going sometimes on one side of the +needle, sometimes on the other, sometimes doubling up against the shaft; +but he was patient, having been through these experiences before, when he +was soldiering. He succeeded at last, and took up the garment that had +lain waiting, meantime, across his lap, and began his work.</p> + +<p>"The inn is paid—the breakfast that is to come, included—and there is +wherewithal left to buy a couple of donkeys and meet our little costs for +the two or three days betwixt this and the plenty that awaits us at +Hendon Hall—</p> +<center> +<p>"'She loved her hus—'</p> +</center> +<p>"Body o' me! I have driven the needle under my nail! . . . It matters +little—'tis not a novelty—yet 'tis not a convenience, neither. . . . We +shall be merry there, little one, never doubt it! Thy troubles will +vanish there, and likewise thy sad distemper—</p> +<center> +<p>"'She loved her husband dearilee, +<br>But another man—'</p> +</center> +<p>"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—</p> +<center> +<p>"'She loved her husband dearilee, +<br>But another man he loved she,—'</p> +</center> +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>He threw back the covers—the boy was gone!</p> + +<p>He stared about him in speechless astonishment for a moment; noticed for +the first time that his ward's ragged raiment was also missing; then he +began to rage and storm and shout for the innkeeper. At that moment a +servant entered with the breakfast.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="13-155"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="13-155.jpg (157K)" src="images/13-155.jpg" height="892" width="728"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>In disjointed and trembling syllables the man gave the information +desired.</p> + +<p>"You were hardly gone from the place, your worship, when a youth came +running and said it was your worship's will that the boy come to you +straight, at the bridge-end on the Southwark side. I brought him hither; +and when he woke the lad and gave his message, the lad did grumble some +little for being disturbed 'so early,' as he called it, but straightway +trussed on his rags and went with the youth, only saying it had been +better manners that your worship came yourself, not sent a stranger—and +so—"</p> + +<p>"And so thou'rt a fool!—a fool and easily cozened—hang all thy breed! +Yet mayhap no hurt is done. Possibly 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?"</p> + +<p>"I know not, good your worship. I saw the youth meddle with them—he +that came for the boy."</p> + +<p>"Thousand deaths! 'Twas done to deceive me—'tis plain 'twas done to +gain time. Hark ye! Was that youth alone?"</p> + +<p>"All alone, your worship."</p> + +<p>"Art sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, your worship."</p> + +<p>"Collect thy scattered wits—bethink thee—take time, man."</p> + +<p>After a moment's thought, the servant said—</p> + +<p>"When he came, none came with him; but now I remember me that as the two +stepped into the throng of the Bridge, a ruffian-looking man plunged out +from some near place; and just as he was joining them—"</p> + +<p>"What THEN?—out with it!" thundered the impatient Hendon, interrupting.</p> + +<p>"Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw no +more, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that +the scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to +witness that to blame ME for that miscarriage were like holding the +unborn babe to judgment for sins com—"</p> + +<p>"Out of my sight, idiot! Thy prating drives me mad! Hold! Whither art +flying? Canst not bide still an instant? Went they toward Southwark?"</p> + +<p>"Even so, your worship—for, as I said before, as to that detestable +joint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than—"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="13-156"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="13-156.jpg (77K)" src="images/13-156.jpg" height="717" width="394"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Art here YET! And prating still! Vanish, lest I throttle thee!" The +servitor vanished. Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged +down the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, "'Tis that scurvy +villain that claimed he was his son. I have lost thee, my poor little +mad master—it is a bitter thought—and I had come to love thee so! No! +by book and bell, NOT lost! Not lost, for I will ransack the land till I +find thee again. Poor child, yonder is his breakfast—and mine, but I +have no hunger now; so, let the rats have it—speed, speed! that is the +word!" As he wormed his swift way through the noisy multitudes upon the +Bridge he several times said to himself—clinging to the thought as if it +were a particularly pleasing one—"He grumbled, but he WENT—he went, +yes, because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet lad—he would ne'er +have done it for another, I know it well."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr><br> +<br><br> +<a name="c14"></a> +<a name="14-159"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-159.jpg (78K)" src="images/14-159.jpg" height="595" width="669"> +</center> +<br><br> +<br><br> + + +<p>Chapter XIV. 'Le Roi est mort—vive le Roi.'</p> + +<p>Toward daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavy +sleep and opened his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few moments, +trying to analyse his confused thoughts and impressions, and get some +sort of meaning out of them; then suddenly he burst out in a rapturous +but guarded voice—</p> + +<p>"I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am indeed awake at +last! Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw and +hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving ears the +wildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up to +astonish the soul of man withal! . . . Ho, Nan, I say! Bet!"</p> + +<p>A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said—</p> + +<p>"Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-162"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-162.jpg (99K)" src="images/14-162.jpg" height="560" width="729"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Commands? . . . O, woe is me, I know thy voice! Speak thou—who am I?"</p> + +<p>"Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the Prince of Wales; to-day art +thou my most gracious liege, Edward, King of England."</p> + +<p>Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmuring plaintively—</p> + +<p>"Alack, it was no dream! Go to thy rest, sweet sir—leave me to my +sorrows."</p> + +<p>Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream. He thought +it was summer, and he was playing, all alone, in the fair meadow called +Goodman's Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high, with long red whiskers +and a humped back, appeared to him suddenly and said, "Dig by that +stump." He did so, and found twelve bright new pennies—wonderful +riches! Yet this was not the best of it; for the dwarf said—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Then the dwarf vanished, and Tom flew to Offal Court with his 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 good priest that teacheth me shall have; mother, +Nan, and Bet the other four. We be done with hunger and rags, now, done +with fears and frets and savage usage."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"They are for thee!—all of them, every one!—for thee and Nan and +Bet—and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!"</p> + +<p>The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"It waxeth late—may it please your Majesty to rise?"</p> + +<p>Ah! that was not the answer he was expecting. The dream had snapped +asunder—he was awake.</p> + +<p>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 recognised that he was still a captive and a king. The room was +filled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles—the mourning colour—and +with noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out from +the heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.</p> + +<p>The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after another +knelt and paid his court and offered to the little King his condolences +upon his heavy loss, 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 Second Gentleman of +the Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest, who +passed it to the Third Groom of the Stole, who passed it to the +Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, who passed it to the Master +of the Wardrobe, who passed it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it to +the Constable of the Tower, who passed it to the Chief Steward of the +Household, who passed it to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed it +to the Lord High Admiral of England, who passed it to the Archbishop of +Canterbury, who passed it to the First Lord of the Bedchamber, who took +what was left of it and put it on Tom. Poor little wondering chap, it +reminded him of passing buckets at a fire.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-164"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-164.jpg (59K)" src="images/14-164.jpg" height="363" width="720"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>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, and passed the hose to the +Lord 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 tag +gone from a truss-point!—to the Tower with the Head Keeper of the King's +Hose!"—after which he leaned upon the shoulder of the First Lord of the +Buckhounds to regather his vanished strength whilst fresh hose, without +any damaged strings to them, were brought.</p> + +<p>But all things must have an end, and so in time Tom Canty was in a +condition to get out of bed. The proper official poured water, the +proper official engineered the washing, the proper official stood by with +a towel, and by-and-by Tom got safely through the purifying stage and was +ready for the services of the Hairdresser-royal. When he at length +emerged from 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; and as he passed, these fell back, leaving his +way free, and dropped upon their knees.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The body of illustrious men named by the late King as his executors +appeared, to ask 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 +Executors concerning the obsequies of his late most illustrious Majesty, +and finished by reading the signatures of the Executors, to wit: 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—</p> + +<p>Tom was not listening—an earlier clause of the document was puzzling +him. At this point he turned and whispered to Lord Hertford—</p> + +<p>"What day did he say the burial hath been appointed for?"</p> + +<p>"The sixteenth of the coming month, my liege."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a strange folly. Will he keep?"</p> + +<p>Poor chap, he was still new to the customs of royalty; he was used to +seeing the forlorn dead of Offal Court hustled out of the way with a very +different sort of expedition. However, the Lord Hertford set his mind at +rest with a word or two.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-166"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-166.jpg (136K)" src="images/14-166.jpg" height="615" width="736"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford, who whispered—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Tom did as he was bidden. Another secretary began to read a preamble +concerning the expenses of the late King's household, which had amounted +to 28,000 pounds during the preceding six months—a sum so vast that it +made Tom Canty gasp; he gasped again when the fact appeared that 20,000 +pounds of this money was still owing and unpaid; {4} and once more when +it appeared that the King's coffers were about empty, and his twelve +hundred servants much embarrassed for lack of the wages due them. Tom +spoke out, with lively apprehension—</p> + +<p>"We be going to the dogs, 'tis plain. 'Tis meet and necessary that we +take a smaller house and set the servants at large, sith they be of no +value but to make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass the +spirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming any but a doll, that hath nor +brains nor hands to help itself withal. I remember me of a small house +that standeth over against the fish-market, by Billingsgate—"</p> + +<p>A sharp pressure upon Tom's arm stopped his foolish tongue and sent a +blush to his face; but no countenance there betrayed any sign that this +strange speech had been remarked or given concern.</p> + +<p>A 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, together with similar aggrandisements 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 honours, and that meantime, the late King not having granted, in +writing, estates suitable to the support of these dignities, the Council, +knowing his private wishes in that regard, had thought proper to grant to +Seymour '500 pound lands,' and to Hertford's son '800 pound lands, and +300 pound of the next bishop's lands which should fall vacant,'—his +present Majesty being willing. {5}</p> + +<p>Tom was about to blurt out something about the propriety of paying the +late King's debts first, before squandering all this money, but a timely +touch upon his arm, from the thoughtful Hertford, saved him this +indiscretion; wherefore he gave the royal 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: why not make his mother Duchess of Offal +Court, and give her an estate? But a sorrowful thought swept it +instantly away: he was only a king in name, these grave veterans and +great nobles were his masters; to them his mother was only the creature +of a diseased mind; they would simply listen to his project with +unbelieving ears, then send for the doctor.</p> + +<p>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 pathetically and +murmured to himself, "In what have I offended, that the good God should +take me away from the fields and the free air and the sunshine, to shut +me up here and make me a king and afflict me so?" Then his poor muddled +head nodded a while and presently drooped to his shoulder; and the +business of the empire came to a standstill for want of that august +factor, the ratifying power. Silence ensued around the slumbering child, +and the sages of the realm ceased from their deliberations.</p> + +<p>During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoyable hour, by permission of his +keepers, Hertford and St. John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the little +Lady Jane Grey; though the spirits of the princesses were rather subdued +by the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal house; and at the end +of the visit his 'elder sister'—afterwards the 'Bloody Mary' of +history—chilled him with a solemn interview which had but one merit in his eyes, +its brevity. He had a few moments to himself, and then a slim lad of +about twelve years of age was admitted to his presence, whose clothing, +except his snowy ruff and the laces about his wrists, was of +black,—doublet, hose, and all. He bore no badge of mourning but a knot of +purple ribbon on his shoulder. He 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—</p> + +<p>"Rise, lad. Who art thou. What wouldst have?"</p> + +<p>The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with an aspect of concern +in his face. He said—</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-170"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-170.jpg (101K)" src="images/14-170.jpg" height="565" width="710"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord. I am thy whipping-boy."</p> + +<p>"My WHIPPING-boy?"</p> + +<p>"The same, your Grace. I am Humphrey—Humphrey Marlow."</p> + +<p>Tom perceived that here was someone 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 his every utterance that he had never +heard of him before? No, that would not do. An idea came to his relief: +accidents like this might be likely to happen with some frequency, now +that business urgencies would often call Hertford and St. John from his +side, they being members of the Council of Executors; therefore perhaps +it would be well to strike out a plan himself to meet the requirements of +such emergencies. Yes, that would be a wise course—he would practise on +this boy, and see what sort of success he might achieve. So he stroked +his brow perplexedly a moment or two, and presently said—</p> + +<p>"Now I seem to remember thee somewhat—but my wit is clogged and dim with +suffering—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"'Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with me these days," said Tom. +"But mind it not—I mend apace—a little clue doth often serve to bring +me back again the things and names which had escaped me. (And not they, +only, forsooth, but e'en such as I ne'er heard before—as this lad shall +see.) Give thy business speech."</p> + +<p>"'Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon it, an' it +please your Grace. Two days gone by, when your Majesty faulted thrice in +your Greek—in the morning lessons,—dost remember it?"</p> + +<p>"Y-e-s—methinks I do. (It is not much of a lie—an' I had meddled with +the Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice, but forty times.) +Yes, I do recall it, now—go on."</p> + +<p>"The master, being wroth with what he termed such slovenly and doltish +work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it—and—"</p> + +<p>"Whip THEE!" said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind. "Why +should he whip THEE for faults of mine?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, your Grace forgetteth again. He always scourgeth me when thou dost +fail in thy lessons."</p> + +<p>"True, true—I had forgot. Thou teachest me in private—then if I fail, +he argueth that thy office was lamely done, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my liege, what words are these? I, the humblest of thy servants, +presume to teach THEE?"</p> + +<p>"Then where is thy blame? What riddle is this? Am I in truth gone mad, +or is it thou? Explain—speak out."</p> + +<p>"But, good your Majesty, there's nought that needeth simplifying.—None +may visit the sacred person of the Prince 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." {1}</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-172"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-172.jpg (84K)" src="images/14-172.jpg" height="554" width="709"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, "Lo, it is a +wonderful thing,—a most strange and curious trade; I marvel they have +not hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me—would heaven +they would!—an' they will do this thing, I will take my lashings in mine +own person, giving God thanks for the change." Then he said aloud—</p> + +<p>"And hast thou been beaten, poor friend, according to the promise?"</p> + +<p>"No, good your Majesty, my punishment was appointed for this day, and +peradventure it may be annulled, as unbefitting the season of mourning +that is come upon us; I know not, and so have made bold to come hither +and remind your Grace about your gracious promise to intercede in my +behalf—"</p> + +<p>"With the master? To save thee thy whipping?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, thou dost remember!"</p> + +<p>"My memory mendeth, thou seest. Set thy mind at ease—thy back shall go +unscathed—I will see to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks, my good lord!" cried the boy, dropping upon his knee again. +"Mayhap I have ventured far enow; and yet—"</p> + +<p>Seeing Master Humphrey hesitate, Tom encouraged him to go on, saying he +was "in the granting mood."</p> + +<p>"Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my heart. Sith thou art no +more Prince of Wales but King, thou canst order matters as thou wilt, +with none to say thee nay; wherefore it is not in reason that thou wilt +longer vex thyself with dreary studies, but wilt burn thy books and turn +thy mind to things less irksome. Then am I ruined, and mine orphan +sisters with me!"</p> + +<p>"Ruined? Prithee how?"</p> + +<p>"My back is my bread, O my gracious liege! if it go idle, I starve. An' +thou cease from study mine office is gone thou'lt need no whipping-boy. +Do not turn me away!"</p> + +<p>Tom was touched with this pathetic distress. He said, with a right royal +burst of generosity—</p> + +<p>"Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine office shall be permanent in +thee and thy line for ever." Then he struck the boy a light blow on the +shoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming, "Rise, Humphrey Marlow, +Hereditary Grand 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 the business of thine +office be augmented."</p> + +<p>The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly—</p> + +<p>"Thanks, O most noble master, this princely lavishness doth far surpass +my most distempered dreams of fortune. Now shall I be happy all my days, +and all the house of Marlow after me."</p> + +<p>Tom had wit enough to perceive that here was a lad who could be useful to +him. He encouraged Humphrey to talk, and he was nothing loath. He was +delighted to believe that he was helping in Tom's 'cure'; for always, as +soon as he had finished calling back to Tom's diseased mind the various +particulars of his experiences and adventures in the royal school-room +and elsewhere about the palace, he noticed that Tom was then able to +'recall' the circumstances quite clearly. At the end of an hour Tom +found himself well freighted with very valuable information concerning +personages and matters pertaining to the Court; so he resolved to draw +instruction from this source daily; and to this end he would give order +to admit Humphrey to the royal closet whenever he might come, provided +the Majesty of England was not engaged with other people. Humphrey had +hardly been dismissed when my Lord Hertford arrived with more trouble for +Tom.</p> + +<p>He said that the Lords of the Council, fearing that some overwrought +report of the King's damaged health might have leaked out and got abroad, +they deemed it wise and best that his Majesty should begin to dine in +public after a day or two—his wholesome complexion and vigorous step, +assisted by a carefully guarded repose of manner and ease and grace of +demeanour, would more surely quiet the general pulse—in case any evil +rumours HAD gone about—than any other scheme that could be devised.</p> + +<p>Then the Earl proceeded, very delicately, to instruct Tom as to the +observances proper to the stately occasion, under the rather 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 days he was to begin to dine in +public; having gathered it from the swift-winged gossip of the Court. +Tom kept these facts to himself, however.</p> + +<p>Seeing the royal memory so improved, the Earl ventured to apply a few +tests to it, in an apparently casual way, to find out how far its +amendment had progressed. The results were happy, here and there, in +spots—spots where Humphrey's tracks remained—and on the whole my lord +was greatly pleased and encouraged. So encouraged was he, indeed, that +he spoke up and said in a quite hopeful voice—</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="14-175"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="14-175.jpg (98K)" src="images/14-175.jpg" height="588" width="686"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Now am I persuaded that if your Majesty will but tax your memory yet a +little further, it will resolve the puzzle of the Great Seal—a loss +which was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day, since its term of +service ended with our late lord's life. May it please your Grace to make +the trial?"</p> + +<p>Tom was at sea—a Great Seal was something which he was totally +unacquainted with. After a moment's hesitation he looked up innocently +and asked—</p> + +<p>"What was it like, my lord?"</p> + +<p>The Earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering to himself, "Alack, his +wits are flown again!—it was ill wisdom to lead him on to strain +them"—then he deftly turned the talk to other matters, with the purpose of +sweeping the unlucky seal out of Tom's thoughts—a purpose which easily +succeeded.</p> + + + + +<br> +<br> + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + <a href="p3.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="1837-h.htm">Main Index</a> +</td><td> + <a href="p5.htm">Next Part</a> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +</body> +</html> + |