One of the most moving events in Mark Twain’s satirical work The Prince and the Pauper is when Edward Tudor—the beloved only son of King Henry VIII and heir to the English throne—lands himself in a common jail, surrounded by people who, according to his father’s laws, are immoral criminals. Although Edward complains about the situation, once he starts listening to people’s stories, he realizes that there is a profound injustice being done. Men, women, and children are severely punished for nonsensical crimes while those in charge—the rich, politicians, and so on—get away with much more serious crimes. Edward, who has only ever received love and kindness from his father, struggles to reconcile his perspective of his father as a wise and just ruler and other people’s perspective of King Henry VIII as unjust and villainous. Surrounded by evidence of Henry’s villainy, Edward is forced to rethink everything he thought he knew about his father’s character. Edward’s experiences as a supposed beggar and criminal in his father’s kingdom open his eyes to the fact that his father has created an unjust society, something Edward never forgets even when he is finally restored to his proper position as king. In The Prince and the Pauper, Twain suggests that for a ruler to be truly just, they must experience injustice for themselves.
Edward’s first experience with injustice occurs when he’s kidnapped by a band of thieves. Listening to their stories, Edward realizes that many of them only turned to a life of crime out of desperation and despair created by Henry VIII’s restrictive laws. A former farmer named Yokel shares that his wife died after being whipped for begging because “it was crime to be hungry in England.” This means that begging for money to avoid having to steal food is illegal, but for some people it’s either beg or starve—either way they suffer. The thieves describe how some people who beg are whipped, have their ears cut off, and are even branded for repeat offenses. These extremely violent punishments seem out of place for something so minor as begging, and it forces Edward to realize that just because people show up in droves to see him or his father drive through the street doesn’t mean they are universally loved. In fact, Yokel sees death as preferable to life in England and is thankful his wife died after her whipping: “drink to the merciful English law that delivered her from the English hell!” English laws required Yokel’s wife to get whipped, but that whipping led to her death and thus saved from existing in the “hell” Henry created through oppressive laws.
When Edward and his protector, Miles Hendon, are unfairly imprisoned after Miles tries to reclaim his rightful title and estate from his villainous brother, Edward learns that most legal punishments are far more severe than such petty infractions warrant. Among the prisoners that Edward meets in jail is a “poor half-witted woman” (meaning that she’s mentally ill) who is going to be hanged for stealing a yard of cloth. Edward is horrified, realizing that according to his beloved father’s laws this woman’s life isn’t worth as much as a single yard of cloth. Edward admits that there are “laws that have […] shamed the English name.” In other words, Edward now believes his father’s laws are shameful and they degrade the entire country. For the first time, Edward realizes that bad laws reflect badly on the people who make them more so than the people who break them.
After experiencing and learning about injustice firsthand, Edward becomes devoted to the cause of justice. When Edward finally reclaims his throne, he uses what he learned to try to right his father’s wrongs, both on personal and national levels. Shortly before being restored to the throne, Edward says, “let these miscreants look well to themselves, for there is a day coming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for this work.” This shows that Edward is determined to be a just ruler and not to make the same mistakes as his father. As a king, Edward holds the opinion that “kings should go to school to their own laws, at times, and so learn mercy.” By this he means that kings should experience the punishments inflicted on people who break petty laws for themselves so that they’ll be able to determine for themselves whether the laws they pass are fair and just. Edward’s experiences with suffering alongside the most vulnerable and miserable people in his kingdom teach him compassion, something he wouldn’t have learned as much about if he remained shut up in his palace all his life. Twain reveals the ultimate result of Edward’s experiences in the final lines of the book: “The reign of Edward VI was a singularly merciful one for those harsh times.”
Related Themes from Other Texts
Justice ThemeTracker
Justice Quotes in The Prince and the Pauper
“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.”
“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!”
A messenger returned, to report that the crowd were following a man, a woman, and a young girl to execution for crimes committed against the peace and dignity of the realm.
Death—and a violent death—for these poor unfortunates! The thought wrung Tom’s heart-strings. The spirit of compassion took control of him, to the exclusion of all other considerations; he never thought of the offended laws, or of the grief or loss which these three criminals had inflicted upon their victims, he could think of nothing but the scaffold and the grisly fate hanging over the heads of the condemned. His concern made him even forget, for the moment, that he was but the false shadow of a king, not the substance[.]
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.”
“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!”
“Reflect, sire—your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty; shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect them? Apparently one of these laws has been broken; when the king is on his throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was seemingly a private person he loyally sunk the king in the citizen and submitted to its authority?”
“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[.]
In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts. A glance showed the king that these were his good friends. He shuddered, and said to himself, “Alack, they are not gone free, as I had thought. To think that such as these should know the lash!—in England! Ay there’s the shame of it—not in Heathenesse, but Christian England! They will be scourged; and I, whom they have comforted and kindly entreated, must look on and see the great wrong done; it is strange, so strange! that I, the very source of power in this broad realm, am helpless to protect them. But let these miscreants look well to themselves, for there is a day coming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for this work. For every blow they strike now, they shall feel a hundred then.”
[…]
Now, by command, the masses parted and fell aside, and the king saw a spectacle that froze the marrow in his bones. Fagots had been piled about the two women, and a kneeling man was lighting them!
That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain over night, who were being conveyed, under guard, to various places in the kingdom, to undergo punishment for crimes committed. The king conversed with these,—he had made it a point, from the beginning, to instruct himself for the kingly office by questioning prisoners whenever the opportunity offered—and the tale of their woes wrung his heart. One of them was a poor half-witted woman who had stolen a yard or two of cloth from a weaver—she was to be hanged for it. Another was a man who had been accused of stealing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he had imagined that he was safe from the halter; but no—he was hardly free before he was arraigned for killing a deer in the king’s park; this was proved against him, and now he was on his way to the gallows. There was a tradesman’s apprentice whose case particularly distressed the king; this youth said he found a hawk, one evening, that had escaped from its owner, and he took it home with him, imagining himself entitled to it; but the court convicted him of stealing it, and sentenced him to death.
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.”
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.”
Yes, King Edward VI lived only a few years, poor boy, but he lived them worthily. More than once, when some great dignitary, some gilded vassal of the crown, made some argument against his leniency, and urged that some law which he was bent upon amending was gentle enough for its purpose, and wrought no suffering or oppression which any one need mightily mind, the young king turned the mournful eloquence of his great compassionate eyes upon him and answered—
“What dost thou know of suffering and oppression? I and my people know, but not thou.”
The reign of Edward VI was a singularly merciful one for those harsh times.
