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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
recognize 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 recognized 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 forever 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'*- 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 any one, 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 Christ's Hospital boys, and he said,
'When I am king, they shall not have bread and shelter only, but
also teachings out of books; for a full belly is little worth where
the mind is starved, and the heart. I will keep this diligently in
my remembrance, that this day's lesson be not lost upon me, and my
people suffer thereby; for learning softeneth the heart and breedeth
gentleness and charity.'*(2)
The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain, the wind rose,
and a raw and gusty night set in. The houseless prince, the homeless
heir to the throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into
the maze of squalid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and
misery were massed together.
Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said:
'Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a
farthing home, I warrant me! If it be so, an I do not break all the
bones in thy lean body, then am I not John Canty, but some other.'
The prince twisted himself loose, unconsciously brushed his
profaned shoulder, and eagerly said:
'Oh, art his father, truly? Sweet heaven grant it be so- then wilt
thou fetch him away and restore me!'
'His father? I know not what thou mean'st; I but know I am thy
father, as thou shalt soon have cause to-'
'Oh, jest not, palter not, delay not!- I am worn, I am wounded,
I can bear no more. Take me to the king my father, and he will make
thee rich beyond thy wildest dreams. Believe me, man, believe me! I
speak no lie, but only the truth!- put forth thy hand and save me! I
am indeed the Prince of Wales!'
The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad, then shook his
head and muttered:
'Gone stark mad as any Tom o' Bedlam!'- then collared him once
more, and said with a coarse laugh and an oath, 'But mad or no mad,
I and thy Gammer Canty will soon find where the soft places in thy
bones lie, or I'm no true man!'
With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, and
disappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm
of human vermin.
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