The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain (desktop ebook reader TXT) 📖

to say. How doth thy mother use thee?”

 

“She is good, sir, and giveth me neither sorrow nor pain of any sort.

And Nan and Bet are like to her in this.”

 

“How old be these?”

 

“Fifteen, an’ it please you, sir.”

 

“The Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and the Lady Jane Grey, my

cousin, is of mine own age, and comely and gracious withal; but my sister

the Lady Mary, with her gloomy mien and—Look you: do thy sisters forbid

their servants to smile, lest the sin destroy their souls?”

 

“They? Oh, dost think, sir, that THEY have servants?”

 

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

said—

 

“And prithee, why not? Who helpeth them undress at night? Who attireth

them when they rise?”

 

“None, sir. Would’st 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 is a quaint and marvellous thought! Thy pardon, I had not meant to

laugh. But thy good Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys enow,

and that soon, too: my cofferer shall look to it. 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’st thou the Latin?”

 

“But scantly, sir, I doubt.”

 

“Learn it, lad: ‘tis hard only at first. The Greek is harder; but

neither these nor any tongues else, I think, are hard to the Lady

Elizabeth and my cousin. Thou should’st hear those damsels at it! But

tell me of thy Offal Court. Hast thou a pleasant life there?”

 

“In truth, yes, so please you, sir, save when one is hungry. There be

Punch-and-Judy shows, and monkeys—oh such antic creatures! and so

bravely dressed!—and there be plays wherein they that play do shout and

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.”

 

“Tell me more.”

 

“We lads of Offal Court do strive against each other with the cudgel,

like to the fashion of the ‘prentices, sometimes.”

 

The prince’s eyes flashed. Said he—

 

“Marry, that would 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 neighbour, and splatter him with water, and dive and

shout and tumble and—”

 

“‘Twould be worth my father’s kingdom but to enjoy it once! Prithee go

on.”

 

“We dance and sing about the Maypole in Cheapside; we play in the sand,

each covering his neighbour up; and times we make mud pastry—oh the

lovely mud, it hath not its like for delightfulness in all the world!—we

do fairly wallow in the mud, sir, saving your worship’s presence.”

 

“Oh, prithee, say no more, ‘tis glorious! If that I could but clothe me

in raiment like to thine, and strip my feet, and revel in the mud once,

just once, with none to rebuke me or forbid, meseemeth I could forego the

crown!”

 

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

once—”

 

“Oho, would’st like it? Then so shall it be. Doff thy rags, and don

these splendours, lad! It is a brief happiness, but will be not less

keen for that. We will have it while we may, and change again before any

come to molest.”

 

A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with Tom’s

fluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom was tricked

out in the gaudy plumage of royalty. The two went and stood side by side

before a great mirror, and lo, a miracle: there did not seem to have been

any change made! They stared at each other, then at the glass, then at

each other again. At last the puzzled princeling said—

 

“What dost thou make of this?”

 

“Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer. It is not meet that

one of my degree should utter the thing.”

 

“Then will I utter it. Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes, the

same voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same face and

countenance that I bear. Fared we forth naked, there is none could say

which was you, and which the Prince of Wales. And, now that I am clothed

as thou wert clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more nearly to feel

as thou didst when the brute soldier—Hark ye, is not this a bruise upon

your hand?”

 

“Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poor

man-at-arms—”

 

“Peace! It was a shameful thing and a cruel!” cried the little prince,

stamping his bare foot. “If the King—Stir not a step till I come again!

It is a command!”

 

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

importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flying

through the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot face and

glowing eyes. As soon as he reached the great gate, he seized the bars,

and tried to shake them, shouting—

 

“Open! Unbar the gates!”

 

The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the prince

burst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldier

fetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent him whirling to the

roadway, and said—

 

“Take that, thou beggar’s spawn, for what thou got’st me from his

Highness!”

 

The crowd roared with laughter. The prince picked himself out of the

mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting—

 

“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang for

laying thy hand upon me!”

 

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

 

“I salute your gracious Highness.” Then angrily—“Be off, thou crazy

rubbish!”

 

Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and hustled

him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting—

 

“Way for his Royal Highness! Way for the Prince of Wales!”

 

Chapter IV. The Prince’s troubles begin.

 

After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little prince was

at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As long as he had

been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it royally, and royally

utter commands that were good stuff to laugh at, he was very

entertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he was

no longer of use to his tormentors, and they sought amusement elsewhere.

He looked about him, now, but could not recognise the locality. He was

within the city of London—that was all he knew. He moved on, aimlessly,

and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by were

infrequent. He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed then

where Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then passed on, and

presently came upon a great space with only a few scattered houses in it,

and a prodigious church. He recognised this church. Scaffoldings were

about, everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was undergoing elaborate

repairs. The prince took heart at once—he felt that his troubles were

at an end, now. He said to himself, “It is the ancient Grey Friars’

Church, which the king my father hath taken from the monks and given for

a home for 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 son is himself as poor and as

forlorn as any that be sheltered here this day, or ever shall be.”

 

He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping,

playing at ball and leap-frog, and otherwise disporting themselves, and

right noisily, too. They were all dressed alike, and in the fashion

which in that day prevailed among serving-men and ‘prentices{1}—that is

to say, each had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about the size

of a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it being of such scanty

dimensions, neither was it ornamental; from beneath it the hair fell,

unparted, to the middle of the forehead, and was cropped straight around;

a clerical band at the neck; a blue gown that fitted closely and hung as

low as the knees or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt; bright yellow

stockings, gartered above the knees; low shoes with large metal buckles.

It was a sufficiently ugly costume.

 

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

native dignity—

 

“Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales desireth

speech with him.”

 

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

 

“Marry, art thou his grace’s messenger, beggar?”

 

The prince’s face flushed with anger, and his ready hand flew to his hip,

but there was nothing there. There was a storm of laughter, and one boy

said—

 

“Didst mark that? He fancied he had a sword—belike he is the prince

himself.”

 

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

and said—

 

“I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king my

father’s bounty to use me so.”

 

This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified. The youth who had

first spoken, shouted to his comrades—

 

“Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace’s princely father, where be

your manners? Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do reverence to

his kingly port and royal rags!”

 

With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body and did

mock homage to their prey. The prince spurned the nearest boy with his

foot, and said fiercely—

 

“Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!”

 

Ah, but this was not a joke—this was going beyond fun. The laughter

ceased on the instant, and fury took its place. A dozen shouted—

 

“Hale him forth! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond! Where be the

dogs? Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!”

 

Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before—the sacred

person of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, and

set upon and torn by dogs.

 

As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far down in

the close-built portion of the city. His body was bruised, his hands

were bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He wandered on

and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired and faint he

could hardly drag one foot after the other. He had ceased to ask

questions of anyone, since they brought him only insult instead of

information. He kept muttering to himself, “Offal Court—that is the

name; if I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent and I drop,

then am I saved—for his people will take me to the palace and prove that

I am none of theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have mine own

again.” And now and then his mind reverted to his treatment by those

rude