1881
THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
A TALE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE OF ALL AGES
by Mark Twain
PREFACE
-
I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one who had it of
his father, which latter had it of his father, this last having in
like manner had it of his father- and so on, back and still back,
three hundred years and more, the fathers transmitting it to the
sons and so preserving it. It may be history, it may be only legend, a
tradition. It may have happened, it may not have happened: but it
could have happened. It may be that the wise and the learned
believed it in the old days; it may be that only the unlearned and the
simple loved it and credited it.
THE_PRINCE_AND_THE_PAUPER
-
Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, to Lord Cromwell, on the
birth of the Prince of Wales (afterward Edward VI).
-
[From the National Manuscripts preserved by the British
Government]
-
Ryght honorable, Salutem in Christo Jesu, and Syr here ys no lesse
joynge and rejossynge in thes partees for the byrth of our prynce,
hoom we hungurde for so longe, then ther was (I trow), inter vicinos
att the byrth of S. I. Baptyste, as thys berer, Master Erance, can
telle you. Gode gyffe us alle grace, to yelde dew thankes to our Lorde
Gode, Gode of Inglonde, for verely He hathe shoyd Hym selff Gode of
Inglond, or rather an Inglyssh Gode, yf we consydyr and pondyr welle
alle Hys procedynges with us from tyme to tyme. He hath overcumme alle
our yllness with Hys excedynge goodnesse, so that we ar now moor
then compelled to serve Hym, seke Hys glory, promott Hys wurde, yf the
Devylle of alle Devylles be natt in us. We have now the stoppe of
vayne trustes ande the stey of vayne expectations; lett us alle pray
for hys preservation. And I for my partt wylle wyssh that hys Grace
allways have, and evyn now from the begynynge, Governares,
Instructores and offyceres of ryght jugmente, ne optimum ingenium
non optima educatione depravetur.
Butt whatt a grett fowlle am I! So, whatt devotione shoyth many
tymys butt lytelle dyscretione! Ande thus the Gode of Inglonde be ever
with you in alle your procedynges.
-
The 19 of October.
-
Yours H. L. b. of Wurcestere, now att Hartlebury.
-
Yf you wolde excytt thys berere to be moore hartye ayen the
abuse of ymagry or mor forwarde to promotte the veryte, ytt myght
doo goode. Natt that ytt came of me butt of your selffe, &c.
-
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 throned monarch better than his crown.
-
MERCHANT OF VENICE
CHAPTER_I
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 revelers 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
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 crisscross 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 organized; 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 for 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 was just such another hive as Canty's house.
Drunkenness, riot, and brawling were the order there, every night
and nearly all night long. Broken heads were as common as hunger in
that place. Yet little Tom was not unhappy. He had a hard time of
it, but did not know it. It was the sort of time that all the Offal
Court boys had, therefore he supposed it was the correct and
comfortable thing. When he came home empty-handed at night, he knew
his father would curse him and thrash him first, and that when he
was done the awful grandmother would do it all over again and
improve on it; and that away in the night his starving mother would
slip to him stealthily with any miserable scrap of crust she had
been able to save for him by going hungry herself, notwithstanding she
was often caught in that sort of treason and soundly beaten for it
by her husband.
No, Tom's life went along well enough, especially in summer. He
only begged just enough to save himself, for the laws against
mendicancy were stringent, and the penalties heavy; so he put in a
good deal of his time listening to good Father Andrew's charming old
tales and legends about giants and fairies, dwarfs and genii, and
enchanted castles, and gorgeous kings and princes. His head grew to be
full of these wonderful things, and many a night as he lay in the dark
on his scant and offensive straw, tired, hungry, and smarting from a
thrashing, he unleashed his imagination and soon forgot his aches
and pains in delicious picturings to himself of the charmed life of
a petted prince in a regal palace. One desire came in time to haunt
him day and night; it was to see a real prince, with his own eyes.
He spoke of it once to some of his Offal Court comrades; but they
jeered him and scoffed him so unmercifully that he was glad to keep
his dream to himself after that.
He often read the priest's old books and got him to explain and
enlarge upon them. His dreamings and readings worked certain changes
in him by and by. His dream-people were so fine that he grew to lament
his shabby clothing and his dirt, and to wish to be clean and better
clad. He went on playing in the mud just the same, and enjoying it,
too; but instead of splashing around in the Thames solely for the
fun of it, he began to find an added value in it because of the
washings and cleansings it afforded.
Tom could always find something going on around the Maypole in
Cheapside, and at the fairs; and now and then he and the rest of
London had a chance to see a military parade when some famous
unfortunate was carried prisoner to the Tower, by land or boat. One
summer's day he saw poor Anne Askew and three men burned at the
stake in Smithfield, and heard an ex-bishop preach a sermon to them
which did not interest him. Yes, Tom's life was varied and pleasant
enough, on the whole.
By and by Tom's reading and dreaming about princely life wrought
such a strong effect upon him that he began to act the prince,
unconsciously. His speech and manners became curiously ceremonious and
courtly, to the vast admiration and amusement of his intimates. But
Tom's influence among these young people began to grow now, day by
day; and in time he came to be looked up to by them with a sort of
wondering awe, as a superior being. He seemed to know so much! and
he could do such marvellous things! and withal, he was so deep and
wise! Tom's remarks and Tom's performances were reported by the boys
to their elders; and these, also, presently began to discuss Tom
Canty, and to regard him as a most gifted and extraordinary
creature. Full-grown people brought their perplexities to Tom for
solution, and were often astonished at the wit and wisdom of his
decisions. In fact, he was become a hero to all who knew him except
his own family- these only saw nothing in him.
Privately, after a while, Tom organized a royal court! He was
the prince; his special comrades were guards, chamberlains, equerries,
lords and ladies in waiting, and the royal family. Daily the mock
prince was received with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from
his romantic readings; daily the great affairs of the mimic kingdom
were discussed in the royal council, and daily his mimic highness
issued decrees to his imaginary armies, navies, and viceroyalties.
After which he would go forth in his rags and beg a few farthings,
eat his poor crust, take his customary cuffs and abuse, and then
stretch himself upon his handful of foul straw, and resume his empty
grandeurs in his dreams.
And still his desire to look just once upon a real prince, in
the flesh, grew upon him, day by day, and week by week, until at
last it absorbed all other desires, and became the one passion of
his life.
One January day, on his usual begging tour, he tramped
despondently up and down the region round about Mincing Lane and
Little East Cheap, hour after hour, barefooted and cold, looking in at
cook-shop windows and longing for the dreadful pork-pies and other
deadly inventions displayed there- for to him these were dainties
fit for the angels; that is, judging by the smell, they were- for it
had never been his good luck to own and eat one. There was a cold
drizzle of rain; the atmosphere was murky; it was a melancholy day. At
night Tom reached home so wet and tired and hungry that it was not
possible for his father and grandmother to observe his forlorn
condition and not be moved- after their fashion; wherefore they gave
him a brisk cuffing at once and sent him to bed. For a long time his
pain and hunger, and the swearing and fighting going on in the
building, kept him awake; but at last his thoughts drifted away to
far, romantic lands, and he fell asleep in the company of jeweled
and gilded princelings who lived in vast palaces, and had servants
salaaming before them or flying to execute their orders. And then,
as usual, he dreamed that he was a princeling himself.
All night long the glories of his royal estate shone upon him;
he moved among great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light,
breathing perfumes, drinking in delicious music, and answering the
reverent obeisances of the glittering throng as it parted to make
way for him, with here a smile, and there a nod of his princely head.
And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon the
wretchedness about him, his dream had had its usual effect- it had
intensified the sordidness of his surroundings a thousandfold. Then
came bitterness, and heartbreak, and tears.
CHAPTER_III
CHAPTER III
Tom's Meeting with the Prince
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TOM got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his
thoughts busy with the shadowy splendors of his night's dreams. He
wandered here and there in the city, hardly noticing where he was
going, or what was happening around him. People jostled him and some
gave him rough speech; but it was all lost on the musing boy. By and
by he found himself at Temple Bar, the farthest from home he had
ever traveled in that direction. He stopped and considered a moment,
then fell into his imaginings again, and passed on outside the walls
of London. The Strand had ceased to be a country-road then, and
regarded itself as a street, but by a strained construction; for,
though there was a tolerably compact row of houses on one side of
it, there were only some scattering great buildings on the other,
these being palaces of rich nobles, with ample and beautiful grounds
stretching to the river- grounds that are now closely packed with grim
acres of brick and stone.
Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at
the beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days;
then idled down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's
stately palace, toward a far more mighty and majestic palace beyond-
Westminster. Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of masonry,
the wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the
huge stone gateways, with its gilded bars and its magnificent array of
colossal granite lions, and the other signs and symbols of English
royalty. Was the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last? Here,
indeed, was a king's palace. Might he not hope to see a prince now-
a prince of flesh and blood, if Heaven were willing?
At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue, that is
to say, an erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from
head to heel in shining steel armor. At a respectful distance were
many country-folk, and people from the city, waiting for any chance
glimpse of royalty that might offer. Splendid carriages, with splendid
people in them and splendid servants outside, were arriving and
departing by several other noble gateways that pierced the royal
inclosure.
Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly
and timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising
hope, when all at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a
spectacle that almost made him shout for joy. Within was a comely boy,
tanned and brown with sturdy outdoors sports and exercises, whose
clothing was all of lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at
his hip a little jeweled sword and dagger; dainty buskins on his feet,
with red heels; and on his head a jaunty crimson cap, with drooping
plumes fastened with a great sparkling gem. Several gorgeous gentlemen
stood near- his servants, without a doubt. Oh! he was a prince- a
prince, a living prince, a real prince- without the shadow of a
question; and the prayer of the pauper boy's heart was answered at
last.
Tom's breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes
grew big with wonder and delight. Everything gave way in his mind
instantly to one desire: that was to get close to the prince, and have
a good, devouring look at him. Before he knew what he was about, he
had his face against the gate-bars. The next instant one of the
soldiers snatched him rudely away, and sent him spinning among the
gaping crowd of country gawks and London idlers. The soldier said:
'Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!'
The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young prince sprang to the
gate with his face flushed, and his eyes flashing with indignation,
and cried out:
'How dar'st thou use a poor lad like that! How dar'st thou use the
king my father's meanest subject so! Open the gates, and let him in!'
You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off their hats then.
You should have heard them cheer, and shout, 'Long live the Prince
of Wales!'
The soldiers presented arms with their halberds, opened the gates,
and presented again as the little Prince of Poverty passed in, in
his fluttering rags, to join hands with the Prince of Limitless
Plenty. Edward Tudor said:
'Thou lookest tired and hungry; thou'st been treated ill. Come
with me.'
Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to- I don't know what;
interfere, no doubt. But they were waved aside with a right royal
gesture, and they stopped stock still where they were like so many
statues. Edward took Tom to a rich apartment in the palace, which he
called his cabinet. By his command a repast was brought such as Tom
had never encountered before except in books. The prince, with
princely delicacy and breeding, sent away the servants, so that his
humble guest might not be embarrassed by their critical presence; then
he sat near by, and asked questions while Tom ate.
'What is thy name, lad?'
'Tom Canty, an it please thee, sir.'
''Tis an odd one. Where dost live?'
'In the city, please thee, sir. Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane.'
'Offal Court! Truly, 'tis another odd one. Hast parents?'
'Parents have I, sir, and a grandam likewise that is but
indifferently precious to me, God forgive me if it be offense to say
it- also twin sisters, Nan and Bet.'
'Then is thy grandam not overkind to thee, I take it.'
'Neither to any other is she, so please your worship. She hath a
wicked heart, and worketh evil all her days.'
'Doth she mistreat thee?'
'There be times that she stayeth her hand, being asleep or
overcome with drink; but when she hath her judgment clear again, she
maketh it up to me with goodly beatings.'
A fierce look came into the little prince's eyes, and he cried
out:
'What! Beatings?'
'O, indeed, yes, please you, sir.'
'Beatings!- and thou so frail and little. Hark ye: before the
night come, she shall hie her to the Tower. The king my father-'
'In sooth, you forget, sir, her low degree. The Tower is for the
great alone.'
'True, indeed. I had not thought of that. I will consider of her
punishment. Is thy father kind to thee?'
'Not more than Gammer Canty, sir.'
'Fathers be alike, mayhap. Mine hath not a doll's temper. He
smiteth with a heavy hand, yet spareth me; he spareth me not always
with his tongue, though, sooth 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. Wouldst 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 marvelous 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 scantily, 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 shouldst 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 I not 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 neighbor, and spatter 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 neighbor 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, wouldst like it? Then so shall it be. Doff thy rags, and don
these splendors, 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 around 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!'
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