The Prince & the Pauper (Illustrated Edition) (eBook)

Adventure Novel set in 16th Century England, With Author's Biography

Mark Twain (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2017 | 1. Auflage
1808 Seiten
e-artnow (Verlag)
978-80-268-7820-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Set in 1547, The Prince and the Pauper tells the story of two young boys who are identical in appearance: Tom Canty, a pauper who lives with his abusive father in Offal Court off Pudding Lane in London, and Prince Edward, son of King Henry VIII. Tom, the youngest boy in a poor family living in London, has always aspired to a better life, encouraged by the local priest. Loitering around the palace gates one day, he sees the Prince Edward of Wales. Tom is nearly caught and beaten by the Royal Guards, but Edward stops them and invites Tom into his palace chamber. There the two boys get to know one another, fascinated by each other's life and their uncanny resemblance. They decide to switch clothes 'temporarily'. The Prince momentarily goes outside, quickly hiding an article of national importance (the Great Seal of England), and eventually finding his way to the Canty home. Tom, posing as the prince, tries to cope with court customs and manners. His fellow nobles and palace staff think 'the prince' has an illness which has caused memory loss and fear he will go mad. They repeatedly ask him about the missing 'Great Seal', but he knows nothing about it. Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1835-1910), better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer. He is best known for his two novels - The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and its sequel, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but his satirical stories and travel books are also widely popular. His wit and satire, in prose and in speech, earned him praise from critics and peers. He was lauded as the greatest American humorist of his age.

Textauszug

Chapter V.
Tom as a Patrician

Table of Contents

Tom Canty, left alone in the Prince’s cabinet, made good use of his opportunity. He turned himself this way and that before the great mirror, admiring his finery; then walked away, imitating the Prince’s high-bred carriage, and still observing results in the glass. Next he drew the beautiful sword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and laying it across his breast, as he had seen a noble knight do, by way of salute to the lieutenant of the Tower, five or six weeks before, when delivering the great lords of Norfolk and Surrey into his hands for captivity. Tom played with the jewelled dagger that hung upon his thigh; he examined the costly and exquisite ornaments of the room; he tried each of the sumptuous chairs, and thought how proud he would be if the Offal Court herd could only peep in and see him in his grandeur. He wondered if they would believe the marvellous tale he should tell when he got home, or if they would shake their heads, and say his overtaxed imagination had at last upset his reason.

At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the Prince was gone a long time; then right away he began to feel lonely; very soon he fell to listening and longing, and ceased to toy with the pretty things about him; he grew uneasy, then restless, then distressed. Suppose some one should come, and catch him in the Prince’s clothes, and the Prince not there to explain. Might they not hang him at once, and inquire into his case afterward? He had heard that the great were prompt about small matters. His fear rose higher and higher; and trembling he softly opened the door to the antechamber, resolved to fly and seek the Prince, and, through him, protection and release. Six gorgeous gentlemen-servants and two young pages of high degree, clothed like butterflies, sprang to their feet and bowed low before him. He stepped quickly back and shut the door. He said—

“Oh, they mock at me! They will go and tell. Oh! why came I here to cast away my life?”

He walked up and down the floor, filled with nameless fears, listening, starting at every trifling sound. Presently the door swung open, and a silken page said—

“The Lady Jane Grey.”

The door closed and a sweet young girl, richly clad, bounded toward him. But she stopped suddenly, and said in a distressed voice—

“Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?”

Tom’s breath was nearly failing him; but he made shift to stammer out—

“Ah, be merciful, thou! In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court in the city. Prithee let me see the Prince, and he will of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt. Oh, be thou merciful, and save me!”

By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his eyes and uplifted hands as well as with his tongue. The young girl seemed horror-stricken. She cried out—

“O my lord, on thy knees? – and to me!”

Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten with despair, sank down, murmuring—

“There is no help, there is no hope. Now will they come and take me.”

Whilst he lay there benumbed with terror, dreadful tidings were speeding through the palace. The whisper – for it was whispered always – flew from menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the long corridors, from story to story, from saloon to saloon, “The Prince hath gone mad, the Prince hath gone mad!” Soon every saloon, every marble hall, had its groups of glittering lords and ladies, and other groups of dazzling lesser folk, talking earnestly together in whispers, and every face had in it dismay. Presently a splendid official came marching by these groups, making solemn proclamation—

“In the name of the King!

Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nor discuss the same, nor carry it abroad. In the name of the King!”

The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been stricken dumb.

Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors, of “The Prince! See, the Prince comes!”

Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to bow in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewildered and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of him, making him lean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him followed the court-physicians and some servants.

Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace and heard the door close behind him. Around him stood those who had come with him. Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very large and very fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression. His large head was very grey; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face, like a frame, were grey also. His clothing was of rich stuff, but old, and slightly frayed in places. One of his swollen legs had a pillow under it, and was wrapped in bandages. There was silence now; and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, except this man’s. This stern-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII. He said – and his face grew gentle as he began to speak—

“How now, my lord Edward, my Prince? Hast been minded to cozen me, the good King thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with a sorry jest?”

Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let him, to the beginning of this speech; but when the words “me, the good King” fell upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as instantly upon his knees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting up his hands, he exclaimed—

“Thou the King? Then am I undone indeed!”

This speech seemed to stun the King. His eyes wandered from face to face aimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him. Then he said in a tone of deep disappointment—

“Alack, I had believed the rumour disproportioned to the truth; but I fear me ’tis not so.” He breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentle voice, “Come to thy father, child: thou art not well.”

Tom was assisted to his feet, and approached the Majesty of England, humble and trembling. The King took the frightened face between his hands, and gazed earnestly and lovingly into it awhile, as if seeking some grateful sign of returning reason there, then pressed the curly head against his breast, and patted it tenderly. Presently he said—

“Dost not know thy father, child? Break not mine old heart; say thou know’st me. Thou dost know me, dost thou not?”

“Yea: thou art my dread lord the King, whom God preserve!”

“True, true – that is well – be comforted, tremble not so; there is none here would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee. Thou art better now; thy ill dream passeth – is’t not so? Thou wilt not miscall thyself again, as they say thou didst a little while agone?”

“I pray thee of thy grace believe me, I did but speak the truth, most dread lord; for I am the meanest among thy subjects, being a pauper born, and ’tis by a sore mischance and accident I am here, albeit I was therein nothing blameful. I am but young to die, and thou canst save me with one little word. Oh speak it, sir!”

“Die? Talk not so, sweet prince – peace, peace, to thy troubled heart – thou shalt not die!”

Tom dropped upon his knees with a glad cry—

“God requite thy mercy, O my King, and save thee long to bless thy land!” Then springing up, he turned a joyful face toward the two lords in waiting, and exclaimed, “Thou heard’st it! I am not to die: the King hath said it!” There was no movement, save that all bowed with grave respect; but no one spoke. He hesitated, a little confused, then turned timidly toward the King, saying, “I may go now?”

“Go? Surely, if thou desirest. But why not tarry yet a little? Whither would’st go?”

Tom dropped his eyes, and answered humbly—

“Peradventure I mistook; but I did think me free, and so was I moved to seek again the kennel where I was born and bred to misery, yet which harboureth my mother and my sisters, and so is home to me; whereas these pomps and splendours whereunto I am not used – oh, please you, sir, to let me go!”

The King was silent and thoughtful a while, and his face betrayed a growing distress and uneasiness. Presently he said, with something of hope in his voice—

“Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain, and hath his wits unmarred as toucheth other matter. God send it may be so! We will make trial.”

Then he asked Tom a question in Latin, and Tom answered him lamely in the same tongue. The lords and doctors manifested their gratification also. The King said—

“’Twas not according to his schooling and ability, but showeth that his mind is but diseased, not stricken fatally. How say you, sir?”

The physician addressed bowed low, and replied—

“It jumpeth with my own conviction, sire, that thou hast divined aright.”

The King looked pleased with this encouragement, coming as it did from so excellent authority, and continued with good heart—

“Now mark ye all: we will try him further.”

He put a question to Tom in French. Tom...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 21.7.2017
• Illustrationen: Frank T. Merrill
• Verlagsort: Prague
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Comic / Humor / Manga ► Comic
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• Schlagworte: American author • a quiet life in the country • born a crime • children's adventure • Classic Literature • historical fiction • identity swap • illustrated edition • Jack London • Ken Follett • masquerade • Pride and Prejudice • Robert Louis Stevenson • satirical humor • social class disparity • The Forgotten Sister • The Jungle Book • The Man in the Iron Mask • the princess bride • Tudor England
• ISBN-10: 80-268-7820-5 / 8026878205
• ISBN-13: 978-80-268-7820-9 / 9788026878209