victim
of treachery. XXIII. The Prince a prisoner. XXIV. The escape. XXV.
Hendon Hall. XXVI. Disowned. XXVII. In prison. XXVIII. The
sacrifice. XXIX. To London. XXX. Tom's progress. XXXI. The
Recognition procession. XXXII. Coronation Day. XXXIII. Edward as
King. Conclusion. Justice and Retribution. Notes.
'The quality of mercy . . . is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives,
and him that takes; 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The
thron-ed monarch better than his crown'. Merchant of Venice.
Chapter I.
The birth of the Prince and the Pauper.
In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second
quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the
name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another
English child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did
want him. All England wanted him too. England had so longed for him,
and hoped for him, and prayed God for him, that, now that he was
really come, the people went nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances
hugged and kissed each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and
high and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced and sang, and got very
mellow; and they kept this up for days and nights together. By day,
London was a sight to see, with gay banners waving from every
balcony and housetop, and splendid pageants marching along. By night,
it was again a sight to see, with its great bonfires at every corner, and
its troops of revellers making merry around them. There was no talk in
all England but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who
lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not
knowing that great lords and ladies were tending him and watching
over him--and not caring, either. But there was no talk about the other
baby, Tom Canty, lapped in his poor rags, except among the family of
paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his presence.
Chapter II.
Tom's early life.
Let us skip a number of years.
London was fifteen hundred years old, and was a great town--for that
day. It had a hundred thousand inhabitants--some think double as many.
The streets were very narrow, and crooked, and dirty, especially in the
part where Tom Canty lived, which was not far from London Bridge.
The houses were of wood, with the second story projecting over the
first, and the third sticking its elbows out beyond the second. The
higher the houses grew, the broader they grew. They were skeletons of
strong criss-cross beams, with solid material between, coated with
plaster. The beams were painted red or blue or black, according to the
owner's taste, and this gave the houses a very picturesque look. The
windows were small, glazed with little diamond-shaped panes, and they
opened outward, on hinges, like doors.
The house which Tom's father lived in was up a foul little pocket called
Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane. It was small, decayed, and rickety,
but it was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty's tribe
occupied a room on the third floor. The mother and father had a sort of
bedstead in the corner; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two sisters,
Bet and Nan, were not restricted--they had all the floor to themselves,
and might sleep where they chose. There were the remains of a blanket
or two, and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw, but these could
not rightly be called beds, for they were not organised; they were
kicked into a general pile, mornings, and selections made from the
mass at night, for service.
Bet and Nan were fifteen years old--twins. They were good-hearted
girls, unclean, clothed in rags, and profoundly ignorant. Their mother
was like them. But the father and the grandmother were a couple of
fiends. They got drunk whenever they could; then they fought each
other or anybody else who came in the way; they cursed and swore
always, drunk or sober; John Canty was a thief, and his mother a
beggar. They made beggars of the children, but failed to make thieves
of them. Among, but not of, the dreadful rabble that inhabited the
house, was a good old priest whom the King had turned out of house
and home with a pension of a few farthings, and he used to get the
children aside and teach them right ways secretly. Father Andrew also
taught Tom a little Latin, and how to read and write; and would have
done the same with the girls, but they were afraid of the jeers of their
friends, who could not have endured such a queer accomplishment in
them.
All Offal Court
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