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$Unique_ID{bob01436}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{Prince And The Pauper, The
Chapter XIV}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Twain, Mark}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{tom
lord
thou
thy
passed
upon
royal
hertford
humphrey
majesty}
$Date{1909}
$Log{}
Title: Prince And The Pauper, The
Author: Twain, Mark
Date: 1909
Chapter XIV
"Le Roi Est Mort - Vive Le Roi"
Toward daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavy
sleep and opened his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few moments, trying
to analyze his confused thoughts and impressions, and get some sort of
meaning out of them, then suddenly he burst out in a rapturous but guarded
voice:
"I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am, indeed, awake
at last! Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw
and hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving ears the
wildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up to
astonish the soul of man withal!......Ho, Nan, I say! Bet!"......
A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said:
"Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?"
"Commands?......Oh, woe is me, I know thy voice! Speak, thou - who am
I?"
"Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the Prince of Wales, to-day
art thou my most gracious liege, Edward, king of England."
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."
Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream. He
thought it was summer and he was playing, all alone, in the fair meadow
called Goodman's Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high, with long red
whiskers and a humped back, appeared to him suddenly and said, "Dig, by
that stump." He did so, and found twelve bright new pennies - wonderful
riches! Yet this was not the best of it; for the dwarf said:
"I know thee. Thou art a good lad and 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 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."
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 thee! - all of them, every one! - for thee and Nan and
Bet - and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!"
The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and
exclaimed:
"It waxeth late - may it please your majesty to rise?"
Ah, that was not the answer he was expecting. The dream had snapped
asunder - he was awake.
He opened his eyes - the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber was
kneeling by his couch. The gladness of the lying dream faded away - the
poor boy recognized that he was still a captive and a king. The room was
filled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles - the mourning color - and
with noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out from
the heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.
The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after another
knelt and paid his court and offered to the little king his condolences
upon his heavy loss, while the dressing proceeded. In the beginning, a
shirt was taken up by the Chief Equerry in Waiting, who passed it to the
First Lord of the Buckhounds, who passed it to the Second 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.
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 re-gather his vanished strength while fresh hose, without any damaged
strings to them, were brought.
But all things must have an end, and so in time Tom Canty was in a
condition to get out of bed. The proper official poured water, the proper
official engineered the washing, the proper official stood by with a towel,
and by and by Tom got safely through the purifying stage and was ready for
the services of the Hairdresser-royal. When he at length emerged from his
master's hands, he was a gracious figure and as pretty as a girl, in his
mantle and trunks of purple satin, and purple-plumed cap. He now moved in
state toward his breakfast room, through the midst of the courtly
assemblage; and as he passed, these fell back, leaving his way free, and
dropped upon their knees.
After breakfast he was conducted, with regal ceremony, attended by his
great officers and his guard of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners bearing gilt
battle-axes, to the throne-room, where he proceeded to transact business of
state. His "uncle," Lord Hertford, took his stand by the throne, to assist
the royal mind with wise counsel.
The body of illustrious men named by the late king as his executors,
appeared, to ask Tom's 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 degree 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 -
Tom was not listening - an earlier clause of th