The Prince and the Pauperby Mark Twain, Everett Emerson
They are the same age. They look alike. In fact, there is but one difference between them: Tom Canty is a child of the London slums; Edward Tudor is heir to the throne of England. Just how insubstantial this difference really is becomes clear when a chance encounter/b>
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Two boys exchange their clothes and their lives in Mark Twain's classic satiric comedy.
They are the same age. They look alike. In fact, there is but one difference between them: Tom Canty is a child of the London slums; Edward Tudor is heir to the throne of England. Just how insubstantial this difference really is becomes clear when a chance encounter leads to an exchange of roles…with the pauper caught up in the pomp and folly of the royal court, and the prince wandering, horror-stricken, through the lower depths of sixteenth-century English society.
Out of the theme of switched identities, Mark Twain has fashioned both a scathing attack upon social hypocrisy and injustice and an irresistible comedy imbued with the sense of high-spirited play that belongs to his most creative period.
With an Afterword by Everett Emerson
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The Prince and the Pauper
By Mark Twain
Hesperus Press LimitedCopyright © 2014 Mark Twain
All rights reserved.
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 2
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 storey 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 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 or 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 and say 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 organised 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 jewelled and gilded princelings who live 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 3
tom's meeting with the prince
* * *
Tom got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his thoughts busy with the shadowy splendours 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 travelled 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 scattered 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 gateway, with its gilded bars and its magnificent array of colossal granite lions, and other the 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 armour. 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 enclosure.
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 outdoor sports and exercises, whose clothing was all of lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at his hip a little jewelled 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 nearby, 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 grand-dam likewise that is but indifferently precious to me, God forgive me if it be offence to say it – also twin sisters, Nan and Bet.'
'Then is thy grand-dam not over kind 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 judgement 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 –
'Oh, 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?'
Excerpted from The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain. Copyright © 2014 Mark Twain. Excerpted by permission of Hesperus Press Limited.
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Meet the Author
Mark Twain was born Samuel Langhorne Clemens in Florida, Missouri, in 1835 and died in Redding, Connecticut, in 1910. In his person and in his pursuits, he was a man of extraordinary contrasts. Although he left school at twelve when his father died, he was eventually awarded honorary degrees from Yale University, the University of Missouri, and Oxford University. His career encompassed such varied occupations as printer, Mississippi riverboat pilot, journalist, travel writer, and publisher. He made fortunes from his writing but toward the end of his life he had to resort to lecture tours to pay his debts. He was hot-tempered, profane, and sentimental—and also pessimistic, cynical, and tortured by self-doubt. His nostalgia helped produce some of his best books. He lives in American letters as a great artist, the writer whom William Dean Howells called “the Lincoln of our literature.”
A graduate of Harvard College, Everett Emerson was an Alumni Distinguished Professor, Emeritus, at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He was the author or editor of many books, including Mark Twain: A Literary Life. Emerson also taught in Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Florida, Louisiana, and California. He was the founder of the Mark Twain Circle, and for twenty years edited the journal Early American Literature.
From the Paperback edition.
- Date of Birth:
- November 30, 1835
- Date of Death:
- April 21, 1910
- Place of Birth:
- Florida, Missouri
- Place of Death:
- Redding, Connecticut
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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My 4th grade son was given the reading assignment of choosing a classic book for his report. While I am very supportive of what he reads and always read what he reads, either with him or on my own, I was quite surprised with some of the content in the book. While some of the situations and lessons are great for kids to learn, it was quite bothersome and hurtful to my son to read about how the main character, Tom Canty, is treated by his father. While I certainly do not want to ruin the story, he is starved and beaten for not begging and stealing enough to his father's satisfaction. In continuing with the story, the Prince witnesses women be burned alive at the stake while their daughters grasp for them and one of them actually has her clothing catch fire. Some parents may certainly be okay with their child reading content such as this, my son had a hard time accepting that he had to read and then write about this among other incidents that happened throughout the book. The language is very difficult to understand as well. While the book was rated for his age group, I feel it would be more acceptable for older children who are more emotionally able to understand and accept that treatment such as what was endured throughout the book was tolerated in the time it was portrayed to have "happened". The footnotes were extremely helpful and made the book a bit more easier to understand and more realistic in some ways. Hope this review helps other parents in deciding whether or not this might be the best book for their child.
Two boys, a prince and a pauper, decide to trade lives since neither is happy with his own. A great and classic book that all children should read.
The Prince and the Pauper was a pretty good book. In the beginning, I thought it was boring and slow. But, towards the middle of the book, the plot went faster and it was more exciting. I would recommend this book for people ages 10 and up.
Throughout history there have been many classic novels that have truly captivated many a reader¿s attention. These novels include one I¿ve recently read: The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain. This novel portrays the traditional theme of wanting a life different than your own. In this novel the prince, Edward Tudor, and the pauper, Tom Canty, long for things that their lives cannot provide: the prince wishes to play as a boy and the pauper wishes to be wealthy and renowned like the prince. The two, who are of the same age and similar appearance, end up switching lives after Edward allows Tom to wear his royal garments. The prince then leaves the palace still dressed in Tom¿s rags. The prince is thrown out and mocked. The prince learns the hardships of a pauper¿s life and Tom is able to enjoy some of the benefits, as well as some of the pressures, of the life of a prince. The prince¿s father then dies, leaving the role of king up to the next royal in line: the prince himself. A part of the book that I find especially intriguing is the prince¿s encounter with the pauper¿s father, John Canty. The prince finds John in hopes that he will be able to restore the young Tudor to his rightful position as prince. However, John assumes that the prince is actually the pauper trying to plead insanity to escape from punishment for bringing home no money. John viciously abuses the prince, asking the help of Grandma Canty in his mistreatment of the fatigued lad. This, in my opinion, demonstrates the evils of human nature. John¿s instinct to lash out at his own son is truly wretched, and yet sadly his nature is, in reality, similar to that of cruel individuals. In this same scene a lone man attempts to protect the prince, taking a horrid blow himself. This man represents the good of human nature: man¿s willingness to sacrifice himself for another. In addition, when John and his captive reach home, the pauper¿s mother and sisters try to protect and comfort the frail prince, though they also mistake him for Tom Canty. This scene is very touching because it shows the vast spectrum of human nature from horribly evil to incredibly good. The Prince and the Pauper is a truly touching novel that gives a detailed picture of life in 16th century England. The rich and the poor, as well as the good and the evil are all described in this exciting novel. Life was difficult for many a being at the time. Injustices were often suffered. However, by witnessing firsthand the cruelty and unfair treatment of citizens in his kingdom, the prince¿s character was strengthened, thus allowing him to learn to overcome such evil and become a just and kind ruler. This book is a very worthwhile read with a timeless and valuable lesson that relates to all of us who have ever yearned for a different life.
Though some of the language is convoluted, context renders it pretty easy to understand, and some of the darker situations just make the conclusion that much more thrilling to read. I think the descriptions of the pauper boy's life, with regular beatings and hunger, yet devoted friends and time for play, are quite enlightening, as are the descriptions of Westminster and the riot on London Bridge.
This review is not just about the book itself, but specifically for the Audio version of the book, read by veteran actor Kenneth Jay who is also the narrator on an audio version of Mark Twain's 'A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court'. I like this reader's style very much. I think Mark Twain really comes to life when read aloud, and The Prince and the Pauper is an excellent example. Most people are familiar with the famous storyline of the two lookalike boys: one the heir to the throne of England, and the other a poor ragamuffin from the dirty streets of London, who meet by chance and decide to change clothes and impersonate one another as a joke for a few hours, but it all goes wrong and both boys get stuck in their assumed roles for much longer than intended. But Twain's dry wit, fascinating descriptions, and observation of life are often lost in the film versions, while this audio book, although abridged, remains true to Mark Twain's exact words and brings them to life in a way that doesn't happen when you read it silently to yourself. This reader is very skilled with voices and accents, so all the characters seem real and different, and the result is very entertaining storytelling from start to finish. Although I personally prefer this reader's audio book version of A Connecticut Yankee, I think the storyline of this book will appeal more to people, particularly younger people
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Any survivors of fireclan may join bloodclan at rikki tikki all results
The she cat pads in her gray fur slightly stained
Can i the new dupety reply to deathlion
Got my nook take away then something had happend to it now it fist, WHAT HAPPED TO YOUR LEG?????? HOW DID IT BROKE???? WHAT TPYE OF BROKE IS IT???????? sorry about the spilling just in a heary and happy. think it the wose post i ever did. I miss every one
Warrior green eyes brown fur white tip on tail darker ears and husky markings plz talk to me I need help
*she enters the clan says* yo can i join?
Pads in. Claws unseathed
I said I would be med cat or warrior you could have chosen either one I just need a hme really bad
I know what your going trough, i am Foxi or fireclan, and no one apriciate me. They always push me aroud
I was going to help but this is getting interesting. Dont judge...ill help if needed. But honestly, i think someone wants kits. There was once this forcemater named X. He fell in love with one of my cats but he tortured shecats. The thing was, he chose randomly.....and then the shecats he hurt, he would kill.
It deserves 100 stars
Very entertaining. I highly recommend this book for everyone,