THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER.

This is the title of a handsomely bound, elegantly printed and profusely illustrated book by our distinguished fellow-citizen, Mark Twain. Although the book is sold by subscription only, it has no trace of the cheap, ill-favored aspect common to most subscription-books, but appears in the very best style of the well known publishing house of Osgood & Co. As the title page describes it, The Prince and the Pauper is a “tale for young people of all ages.” The young people of all ages in one household, at least, can testify to the truth of this description, and can further witness that they have found not only exceeding delight therein, but instruction as well, and hope that each Christmas may bring them some story comparable to this.

Mark Twain has finally fulfilled the earnest hope of many of his best friends, in writing a book which has other and higher merits than can possibly belong to the most artistic expression of mere humor. Not that the humorist should be undervalued. He has a mission higher than that of provoking the guffaws of a gaping crowd. There is a humorous aspect of human life and of human affairs, the successful presentation of which not only excites mirth but dispels many an illusion, pricks many a bubbled conceit, and exposes many a cheap fallacy and thin sentiment as could be done by no other means so well.

Nevertheless the functions and office of the humorist in literature are somewhat limited. His honor is not likely to be durable. Even the incomparable delicacy of Charles Lamb’s humor is permanently preserved by being mixed with higher and nobler literary qualities. It pervades his thoughtful, poetic, and even classical criticisms like the subtle odor of a fixed perfume. The broader and more exuberant wit of Hood is of small value as respects his name and fame, as compared with the pathetic and tragic seriousness which subtones a few of his imperishable lyrics.

Mark Twain has achieved a remarkable and sufficient celebrity in the field of humor. In his humorous writings he has given unmistakable evidence of an ability to win abundant honors in higher and serener fields, and to cope successfully with the best writers of his generation. He possesses not only the story-telling art in perfection, but the story making gift in high degree. He exhibits the marks of a diligent and thoughtful student of English classical literature. His mind works well under the surface of things, and turns a clean, straight, deep furrow of thought that is fresh with the flavors of originality. And as for command of language and force of style, we know of no literary man of his time who can write more vigorous, sinewy, racy English than he.

In the volume now presented to the public, Mr. Clemens appears in a new role, and in a new and exalted literary honor. The story is not without delightful humorous flavors, but its real excellences and charms are such as only a man of genius, writing with a sober if not serious purpose and with utmost literary sincerity, could furnish. The conception of the story is unique and original, the intricate plot is developed with admirable clearness, and the inherent improbability at the base of the story is so artistically treated that one quite forgets it till the end is reached. We have seen the children clinging to it until forcibly taken from it to their beds—and perhaps the parents were unusually prompt in effecting the bedward retirement of the children that they might seize the story for themselves.

On the same day, in the city of London, in the second quarter of the sixteenth century,Ⓐemendation two boys were born. One was a pauper, whose home was in the slums of the city, where he grew to childhood amid incredible privations and brutalities. The other was Edward Sixth, son of Henry Eighth, reared in all the luxury of the court of England. The pauper-boy has the good fortune to learn some things from a kind old priest, and to get hold of some books that fill his mind with visions and dreams of courts and princes.

Wandering, one day, through London, he comes to the gate of the palace-yard, within which he beholds the object of his ambitions—a real prince! the Prince of Wales, of just his age. Rudely hustled by the guards, he finds pity from the Prince, who insists on his admission. The two lads have a pleasant, chatty time in the Prince’s apartments, each behaving in his true character, until it suits them both to exchange clothing for a little while, and for the fun of it. They are unaware that in stature, size, complexion, features, and in all externals of figure and face, they exactly resemble each the other. The whole story turns on this resemblance, which is as remarkable as that which, according to Uncle Remus, existed between the members of the “Tarrypin” family. “Ennybody w’at know one fum de udder gotter take a spy-glassⒶemendation, en den dey er li’ble fer ter git fooled.”

Arrayed thus in the rags of the little Pauper, the Prince goes out to rebuke the guard at the gates, and is immediately hustled out into the street, despite all protestations, while the Pauper-boy, arrayed in the garments of the Prince, remains in the apartments of royalty.

Thrust thus into each other’s places, these lads are utterly incapable of gaining recognition of their real characters, and their declarations are received only as the evidences of partial derangement. It is whispered in the court that the poor little Prince is half-insane, and finally, finding all his efforts to disprove the claims made for him vain, he submits to be treated like a prince, and, by and by, like a king, and goes to Westminster Abbey to be crowned.

Meanwhile the real Prince falls into the most desperate condition, and undergoes a variety of misery and degradation, being dragged to and fro by roughs and thieves, and narrowly escaping with his life. In all his miseries he nobly asserts his Princehood, and is mocked and buffeted without end or mercy. But he learns much of the abuses that abound in the kingdom. Finally, in the midst of the coronation services, the ragged, but real Prince, appears from some hiding-place in the abbey, and interrupts and forbids the ceremony. The boys recognize one another, and, after an infinite deal of trouble, the officers are convinced, and their positions are exchanged, and the real Prince is crowned, and all things are adjusted accordingly.

If there were nothing but this story, of which we have sketched the merest outline, the book would be simply an ingenious tale well told. But there is vastly more than this. One soon perceives that the author has made a most careful study of the customs, manners, language, social condition, courtly life and political state of the London of that day.

The life of that time, in that capital is depicted with startling vividness, and none the less so because the depiction is indirectly done. In the shifting scenes of this story one may look into the real life of the England of Edward Sixth, and see what he might not see in stately histories—what sort of a city London then was, of what extent; how London bridge looked; how the water-side palaces of the Strand sloped down with gardens to the river; how Charing village stood midway between the city and distant Westminster; how the old cross-beam houses were built with projecting stories and glazed with diamond-shaped glass; how justice was administered; how men were hung and women burned for trifles; how the rich and titled rolled in wealth while the poor groveled in dirt and rags:—you see it all, as you read along, and you are not at first aware how much is thus exhibited. And moreover, according to our judgment, the author’s representations are true. The book is historically accurate. In this connection may be mentioned the illustrations which are profusely distributed throughout the volume. Most of them are very good, many are excellent, and they contribute greatly to the interest and profit of the reading.

Occasionally the author’s peculiar gift of humorous exaggeration appears, as in the passage where he describes the tedious ceremony of dressing the Prince in the morning, at which ceremony, a small army of high officials, including the archbishop of Canterbury, “assist!” Now and then we notice the introduction of a “slangy” word or phrase which mars and weakens the sentences, and which judicious revision should have expunged.

These blemishes are few in number, and we do not purpose to call attention to them specifically, but mention them in a general way, trusting that they may find correction in the future editions which we believe will surely be demanded and furnished.

We congratulate the author upon the successful completion of a story which entitles him to new honor in literature, and certainly will win for him the gratitude and admiration of the “noble army” of children, and the thanks of “young people of all ages.” May he soon try again!