



Produced by David Widger





                     THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER

                          by Mark Twain

                             Part 3.




Chapter VIII. The question of the Seal.

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

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

"Admit him, admit 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, 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 before my Parliament, and with
mine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of--"

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

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

"According to the King's command, so shall it be.  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 keepeth the Seal but thou?"

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

"Why, so in sooth I did:  I do remember... What did I with it?... I
am very feeble... So oft these days doth my memory play the traitor
with me... 'Tis strange, strange--"

The King dropped into inarticulate mumblings, shaking his grey head
weakly from time 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 with me
how that you gave the Great Seal into the hands of his highness the
Prince of Wales to keep against the day that--"

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

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

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

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

"Trouble him no more, poor child.  The hand of God lieth heavy upon him,
and my heart goeth out in loving compassion for him, and sorrow that I
may not bear his burden on mine 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 gazed vacantly around until his glance
rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instantly his face flushed with
wrath--

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

The trembling Chancellor answered--

"Good your Majesty, I cry you mercy!  I but waited for the Seal."

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

The poor Chancellor was not long in removing himself from this dangerous
vicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving the royal assent to
the work of the slavish Parliament, and appointing the morrow for the
beheading of the premier peer of England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk.
{1}



Chapter IX. The river pageant.

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

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

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

The advance-guard of the expected procession now appeared in the great
gateway, a troop of halberdiers.  'They were dressed in striped hose of
black and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sides with silver roses, and
doublets of murrey and blue cloth, embroidered on the front and back with
the three feathers, the prince's blazon, woven in gold.  Their halberd
staves were covered with crimson velvet, fastened with gilt nails, and
ornamented with gold tassels.  Filing off on the right and left, they
formed two long lines, extending from the gateway of the palace to the
water's edge.  A thick rayed cloth or carpet was then unfolded, and laid
down between them by attendants in the gold-and-crimson liveries of the
prince.  This done, a flourish of trumpets resounded from within.  A
lively prelude arose from the musicians on the water; and two ushers with
white wands marched with a slow and stately pace from the portal.  They
were followed by an officer bearing the civic mace, after whom came
another carrying the city's sword; then several sergeants of the city
guard, in their full accoutrements, and with badges on their sleeves;
then the Garter King-at-arms, in his tabard; then several Knights of the
Bath, each with a white lace on his sleeve; then their esquires; then the
judges, in their robes of scarlet and coifs; then the Lord High
Chancellor of England, in a robe of scarlet, open before, and purfled
with minever; then a deputation of aldermen, in their scarlet cloaks; and
then the heads of the different civic companies, in their robes of state.
Now came twelve French gentlemen, in splendid habiliments, consisting
of pourpoints of white damask barred with gold, short mantles of
crimson velvet lined with violet taffeta, and carnation coloured
hauts-de-chausses, and took their way down the steps.  They were of the
suite of the French ambassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliers of
the suite of the Spanish ambassador, clothed in black velvet, unrelieved
by any ornament.  Following these came several great English nobles with
their attendants.'

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

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



Chapter X. The Prince in the toils.

We left 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 rage 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 blow descended
upon his own wrist.  Canty roared out--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, poor Tom, poor lad!"

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

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

The Prince looked into her face, and said gently--

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

"The King thy father!  Oh, my child! unsay these words that be freighted
with death for thee, and ruin for all that be near to thee.  Shake of
this gruesome 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."

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, and do him reverence!"

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

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

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

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

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

The Prince said--

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

A sounding blow upon the Prince's shoulder from Canty's broad palm sent
him staggering into goodwife Canty's arms, who clasped him to her breast,
and sheltered him from a pelting rain of cuffs and slaps by interposing
her own person.  The frightened girls retreated to their corner; but the
grandmother stepped eagerly forward to assist her son.  The Prince sprang
away from Mrs. Canty, exclaiming--

"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 belaboured the boy
right soundly, and then gave the girls and their mother a beating for
showing sympathy for the victim.

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