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.
The opening lines of the story spell it out quickly and efficiently. Tom Canty is not wanted. Meanwhile, Edward Tudor, the Prince of Wales has just come into the world. Talk about being born under a bad sign. Poor Tom never had a chance; even his birth isn’t the biggest news of the day to anyone.
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.
The first time the pauper and the prince meet occurs when one of the royal guards rather overzealously pushes the ragamuffin away from the gate. All Tom wanted was to get a look at a real live prince and the prince witnesses the guard’s violence and scolds him for it. Noticing that the boy his own age looks more tired and much more hungry, he invites him through the gate. And so Twain’s two princes first come face to face.
“Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour! and lo, too late it cometh, and I am robbed of this so coveted chance. But speed ye, speed ye! let others do this happy office sith ’tis denied to me. I put my Great Seal in commission: choose thou the lords that shall compose it, and get ye to your work. Speed ye, man! Be- fore the sun shall rise and set again, bring me his head that I may see it.”
Though the basic plot device of the story is absolute preposterous and absurd, Twain manages to make the suspension of disbelief much easier than one might think in part because the novel otherwise feels so authentic. The descriptions of royal etiquette and ritual may not have any actual basis in historical fact, but to the average reader it would definitely feel authentic. Likewise, the language feels right; fat King Henry’s word choice and pulls the reader right out of contemporary times and sends him hurling backward to a place that—again—may not actually be entirely factual, but is believable enough to pass for it.
The reign of Edward VI. was a singularly merciful one for those harsh times. Now that we are taking leave of him, let us try to keep this in our minds, to his credit.
This strange and unlikely tale of a boy who was not wanted and a boy who would be king trading places is not intended just for mere entertainment. That same cannot be said of other works of Twain, though for the most part even his most outlandish stories has a point to be made. What is unusual about this story with a moral is that Twain—always a moral writer, but rarely a moralist—concludes things with a final note that is nothing but a moral. He has designed his historical fiction with such attention to detail and a precision of craft not simply because he is a writer with a conscience, but because he genuinely wants readers to take away from the story a life lesson.
