The events in Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper all center on the trouble that arises when people try to determine what’s real and what’s not based entirely on appearances or the way someone or something looks. The two protagonists, Tom Canty and Edward Tudor, look physically identical despite their very different lives. Tom is an impoverished beggar who entertains himself by daydreaming of either meeting or becoming a prince. Edward is a prince and enjoys innumerable privileges, but he dreams of having the freedom to run around and play with other kids. Fate brings the two together when Edward overhears guards abusing Tom. Edward intervenes and brings Tom inside and they trade clothes on a whim. Edward, dressed in Tom’s rags, runs back outside to punish the guard who hurt Tom, is mistaken for a beggar, and is thrown into the streets. Dressed in rags, Edward is called insane for claiming to be the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VI); likewise, Tom, dressed in finery, is called insane for claiming to be a beggar. Both boys struggle to convince someone, anyone, to believe their stories—Tom’s that he’s a beggar, and Edward’s that he’s a prince—but most characters don’t believe them because of how they’re dressed. Throughout The Prince and the Pauper, Twain highlights the unreliability of appearances and argues that it’s better to rely on intuition and instinct rather than the way something or someone looks.
Edward is transformed from stately prince to beggar simply by changing his clothes. Even though nearly everybody who meets him notices how prince-like he is, they still judge him by his clothes rather than his speech, ideas, and assertions. Edward finds his way to Tom’s home in Offal Court hoping that Tom’s parents will help him get back to the palace so he and Tom can fix the mistake. However, “his clothes were against him,” meaning that because he’s dressed in Tom’s rags, nobody believes that he’s anything other than a beggar. In fact, Edward seems insane because the reality he’s trying to claim—that he’s the Prince of Wales—isn’t in keeping with his appearance. Tom’s mother, mistaking Edward for Tom, tells him, “thy foolish reading hath wrought its woful work at last, and ta’en thy wit away,” indicating that she thinks her son is unfortunately suffering from insane delusions. When Edward tries to convince Miles Hendon (the second son of a baronet who takes Edward under his wing) that he’s a prince, Hendon also writes Edward off as insane. To himself, Hendon says, “In his diseased ravings he called himself the Prince of Wales, and bravely doth he keep up the character,” which indicates that Hendon does recognize that Edward has certain prince-like qualities. Still, it’s easier for Hendon to believe Edward is insane than that Edward is a prince because of his appearance.
When Tom puts on Edward’s clothes, he truly seems to become a prince. Although he tries to convince everyone in the palace that he is actually a beggar and just wants to go home, nobody believes him because he dresses and talks like a prince. When Edward runs out of the palace, he leaves Tom—dressed in “his splendid clothes”—inside. Because his clothes are so fine and he resembles Edward, the first people he runs into naturally think that he is the Prince of Wales. Even King Henry VIII, Edward’s father, doesn’t realize that the finely dressed boy isn’t his son when Tom tries to explain the mistake. Instead, Henry declares that “He is mad; but he is my son, and England’s heir,” which means that Henry, like Tom’s mother, finds it easier to think his son is mad than to believe that, in this case, appearances belie reality. The Earl of Hertford, Edward’s uncle, does sense that there’s something not right about the situation but, like Hendon, he convinces himself that it’s just madness: “Madness can do all the odd conflicting things thou seest in him.” In this way, Hertford convinces himself to put his faith in appearances—that is, believing that Tom is Edward because he’s dressed like Edward—rather than in his instincts.
In the end, Tom and Edward are reunited in Westminster Abbey on coronation day and are clearly eager to get their old clothes back so that their appearances will match the reality of who they are. Tom helps Edward remember where Edward hid the Great Seal, thus proving Edward’s identity. Having done this, Tom says to Edward, “take these regal garments back, and give poor Tom, thy servant, his shreds and remnants again.” This highlights how eager Tom is to have his appearance match his reality so he can be himself again. Edward himself is quickly covered in the massive coronation robe so that the spectators will believe that he is the real prince, emphasizing the fact that most people can only accept reality if it looks the way they expect it to. Even though the mistake has been cleared up and the trouble is over, both boys had to suffer the humiliation of being called insane for weeks and are still shaken up by it, which highlights how dangerous and damaging it can be to mistake appearances for reality. Ultimately, having learned the importance of appearances, Edward gives Tom a special set of clothes to indicate that Tom has a privileged position in society, saying, “note this dress of state, for by it he shall be known, and none shall copy it.” In other words, Edward wants people to judge Tom by his appearance because his clothes now send the message that he’s an important person.
Most of the characters in the book put more faith in appearances than in Tom or Edward’s assertions about their true identity or even their own instincts. Not only does this humiliate both boys, it places the entire kingdom at risk. This sends a clear message that basing judgments solely on appearances is dangerous.
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Appearances vs. Reality Quotes in The Prince and the Pauper
“List ye all! This my son is mad; but it is not permanent. Overstudy hath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement. Away with his books and teachers! see to it. Pleasure him with sports, beguile him in wholesome ways, so that his health come again.” He raised himself higher still, and went on with energy, “He is mad; but he is my son, and England’s heir; and, mad or sane, still shall reign! And hear ye further, and proclaim it: whoso speaketh of this his distemper worketh against the peace and order of these realms, and shall to the gallows!”
“Now were he impostor and called himself prince, look you that would be natural; that would be reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who, being called prince by the king, prince by the court, prince by all, denied his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation? No! By the soul of St. Swithin, no! This is the true prince, gone mad!
“O my poor boy! thy foolish reading hath wrought its woful work at last, and ta’en thy wit away. Ah! why didst thou cleave to it when I so warned thee ‘gainst it? Thou’st broke thy mother’s heart!”
“Answer me truly, on thy faith and honor! Uttered I here a command, the which none but a king might hold privilege and prerogative to utter, would such commandment be obeyed, and none rise up to say me nay?”
“None, my liege, in all these realms. In thy person bides the majesty of England. Thou art the king—thy word is law.”
Tom responded in a strong, earnest voice, and with great animation—
“Then shall the king’s law be law of mercy from this day, and never more be law of blood! Up from thy knees and away! To the Tower and say the king decrees the duke of Norfolk shall not die!”
The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip far and wide over the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the presence, another prodigious shout burst forth—
“The reign of blood is ended! Long live Edward, King of England!”
“And so I am become a knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows! A most odd and strange position, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as I. I will not laugh—no, God forbid, for this thing which is so substanceless to me is real to him. And to me, also, in one way, it is not a falsity, for it reflects with truth the sweet and generous spirit that is in him.” After a pause: “Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title before folk!—there’d be a merry contrast betwixt my glory and my raiment! But no matter: let him call me what he will, so it please him; I shall be content.”
To the rest of the world the name of Henry VIII brought a shiver, and suggested an ogre whose nostrils breathed destruction and whose hand dealt scourgings and death; but to this boy the name brought only sensations of pleasure, the figure it invoked wore a countenance that was all gentleness and affection. He called to mind a long succession of loving passages between his father and himself, and dwelt fondly upon them, his unstinted tears attesting how deep and real was the grief that possessed his heart.
“I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with loving wife and kids—now am I somewhat different in estate and calling; and the wife and kids are gone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in—in the other place—but the kindly God be thanked, they bide no more in England! My good old blameless mother strove to earn bread by nursing the sick; one of these died, the doctors knew not how, so my mother was burnt for a witch, whilst my babes looked on and wailed. English law!—up, all, with your cups!—now altogether and with a cheer!—drink to the merciful English law that delivered her from the English hell! […] I begged, from house to house—I and the wife—bearing with us the hungry kids—but it was crime to be hungry in England—so they stripped us and lashed us through three towns. Drink ye all again to the merciful English law!—for its lash drank deep of my Mary’s blood and its blessed deliverance came quick. She lies there, in the potter’s field, safe from all harms. And the kids—well, whilst the law lashed me from town to town, they starved.”
It was a meal which was distinguished by this curious feature, that rank was waived on both sides; yet neither recipient of the favor was aware that it had been extended. The goodwife had intended to feed this young tramp with broken victuals in a corner, like any other tramp, or like a dog; but she was so remorseful for the scolding she had given him, that she did what she could to atone for it by allowing him to sit at the family table and eat with his betters, on ostensible terms of equality with them; and the king, on his side, was so remorseful for having broken his trust, after the family had been so kind to him, that he forced himself to atone for it by humbling himself to the family level, instead of requiring the woman and her children to stand and wait upon him while he occupied their table in the solitary state due his birth and dignity. It does us all good to unbend sometimes.
“His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us—and is gone down into the eternal fires! Yes, down into the eternal fires! He escaped us—but it was God’s will, yes it was God’s will, we must not repine. But he hath not escaped the fires! no, he hath not escaped the fires, the consuming, unpitying remorseless fires—and they are everlasting!”
[…]
“It was his father that did it all. I am but an archangel—but for him, I should be Pope!”
“Sir Miles! Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a knight! Lord how marvelous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth take upon his quaint and crazy fancies!...An empty and foolish title is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it, for I think it is more honor to be held worthy to be a spectre-knight in his Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of the real kingdoms of this world.”
“An’ it were dark, I should think it was a king that spoke; there’s no denying it, when the humor’s upon him he doth thunder and lighten like your true king—now where got he that trick? See him scribble and scratch away contentedly at his meaningless pot-hooks, fancying them to be Latin and Greek—and except my wit shall serve me with a lucky device for diverting him from his purpose, I shall be forced to pretend to post away to-morrow on this wild errand he hath invented for me.”
“My husband is master in this region; his power hath hardly any limit; the people prosper or starve, as he wills. If you resembled not the man whom you profess to be, my husband might bid you pleasure yourself with your dream in peace; but trust me, I know him well, I know what he will do; he will say to all, that you are but a mad impostor, and straightway all will echo him.” She bent upon Miles that same steady look once more[.]
The king’s eye burned with passion. He said—
“None believe in me—neither wilt thou. But no matter—within the compass of a month thou shalt be free; and more, the laws that have dishonored thee, and shamed the English name, shall be swept from the statute books. The world is made wrong; kings should go to school to their own laws, at times, and so learn mercy.”
He enjoyed his splendid clothes; and ordered more: he found his four hundred servants too few for his proper grandeur, and trebled them. The adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet music to his ears. He remained kind and gentle, and a sturdy and determined champion of all that were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon unjust laws: yet upon occasion, being offended, he could turn upon an earl, or even a duke, and give him a look that would make him tremble.
Tom’s poor mother and sisters travelled the same road out of his mind. At first he pined for them, sorrowed for them, longed to see them, but later, the thought of their coming some day in their rags and dirt, and betraying him with their kisses, and pulling him down from his lofty place, and dragging him back to penury and degradation and the slums, made him shudder. At last they ceased to trouble his thoughts almost wholly. And he was content, even glad; for, whenever their mournful and accusing faces did rise before him now, they made him feel more despicable than the worms that crawl.
At this point, just as he was raising his hand to fling another rich largess, he caught sight of a pale, astounded face which was strained forward out of the second rank of the crowd, its intense eyes riveted upon him. A sickening consternation struck through him; he recognized his mother! […] In an instant more she had torn her way out of the press, and past the guards, and was at his side. She embraced his leg, she covered it with kisses, she cried, “O my child, my darling!” lifting toward him a face that was transfigured with joy and love. The same instant and officer of the King’s Guard snatched her away with a curse, and sent her reeling back whence she came with a vigorous impulse from his strong arm. The words “I do not know you, woman!” were falling from Tom Canty’s lips when this piteous thing occurred; but it smote him to the heart to see her treated so; and as she turned for a last glimpse of him, whilst the crowd was swallowing her from his sight, she seemed so wounded, so broken-hearted, that a shame fell upon him which consumed his pride to ashes, and withered his stolen royalty. His grandeurs were stricken valueless: they seemed to fall away from him like rotten rags.
“Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from this day, they that abide in the shelter of Christ’s Hospital and share the king’s bounty, shall have their minds and hearts fed, as well as their baser parts; and this boy shall dwell there, and hold the chief place in its honorable body of governors, during life. And for that he hath been a king, it is meet that other than common observance shall be his due; wherefore, note this his dress of state, for by it he shall be known, and none shall copy it; and wheresoever he shall come, it shall remind the people that he hath been royal, in his time, and none shall deny him his due of reverence or fail to give him proper salutation. He hath the throne’s protection, he hath the crown’s support, he shall be known and called by the honorable title of the King’s Ward.”
