
On Christmas Eve, the beggar-maid Anitra finds herself penniless and locked out of her cellar in the capital of a wealthy, fabulous kingdom. Wandering half-frozen through the snow, she slips through a crack in the great doors of a gilded, holly-garlanded hall and, finding it empty, climbs onto the throne's cushions and falls asleep. At daybreak she is discovered by the aged Minister, the short-sighted Chancellor, and the young King, who has come to rehearse a proclamation. Frightened, Anitra explains she is "nobody." The Minister wants to send her away, but the Chancellor sees an opportunity: a photograph of the King nobly allowing a sleeping beggar-girl to remain on his throne would make excellent publicity for Christmas Day. He makes Anitra swear never to speak of anything she sees or hears in the hall without permission, warning her that breaking this vow could mean hanging. Not understanding the danger, she agrees, and is told to feign sleep for the reporters, then later to sit on the throne-steps through the day's proceedings. Reporters photograph the scene and depart. The King rehearses his speech about the kingdom's boundless wealth, prosperity, and plenty, insisting no one need be hungry or cold. He and the Chancellor then discuss which prisoners will be pardoned and which hanged before the Chancellor hurries off and the King leaves, privately uneasy but unwilling to cross the powerful Chancellor, an old friend of his father's. By ten o'clock the hall fills with a prosperous, well-dressed crowd eager to see the new chamber and watch the King judge three accused murderers. Among the throng come two old, weather-worn shepherds who push their way to the front. Anitra, faint with hunger, is allowed to remain seated inside the velvet cordon by official order. Trumpets announce the prisoners: Bernardino, a nobleman who killed a man in a duel; Joseph, a Moorish merchant's son who stabbed another boy in a street-brawl; and Elizabeth, a cotton-spinner and Anitra's poor neighbor, who abandoned her fatherless infant on a doorstep, where it died. The court and King then arrive amid cheering, trumpets, and bells. Bernardino is tried first, with lengthy evidence on both sides; he is pardoned to wild applause from his well-connected friends and kisses the King's hand as a free man. Watching, the two shepherds exchange a contemptuous glance, and Anitra notices they now seem younger than before, about fifty. Joseph's trial follows, largely ignored by a crowd absorbed in newspaper extras about Anitra's night on the throne. Despite evidence that he acted in self-defense, the King, pale and avoiding his eyes, condemns Joseph to death; only his father watches with proud, anguished attention. The shepherds again exchange their contemptuous look, now appearing about forty. Elizabeth is tried last. Anitra, who loves her and her little sister, knows that the child's father—one of the King's own trumpeters, celebrated moments earlier—abandoned mother and infant without consequence. Despite this, evidence goes against Elizabeth, and the King "mercifully" commutes her sentence from death to lifelong imprisonment and disgrace. The crowd applauds his clemency while Elizabeth's sister sobs and Elizabeth smiles bravely to comfort her. The shepherds, watching, are now transformed—no longer aged or clumsy but strong, straight, beautiful young men who look at Anitra as though they were her brothers. After the King reads his proclamation of the nation's wealth, peace, and happiness, the crowd erupts in cheers for the King, the Chancellor, and Bernardino. Then someone calls for "Anitra, the Beggar-girl," and the crowd cheers her too. Growing faint, Anitra rises on the throne-steps, looks only at the beautiful shepherds, and decides: "I must have died some day at any rate. So I will die to-day and speak the truth." She declares that she cannot praise the King's kindness, since he lets her starve even while permitting her to sit on his throne, nor his justice, since in his court a man who deserts his child and its mother goes free while the woman who deserts her child must die in prison, and one man is pardoned while another is condemned for the identical fault. As she speaks, the two shepherds ascend the throne steps. All sound stops—no bell, no trumpet. The audience-chamber seems to dissolve, revealing beyond the pillars all the poor, hungry, unjustly-treated people of the nation. The younger shepherd announces, "In this Court to-day stand those who are more strong than all the triumphs of the world. We are the Truth and Death." The older shepherd repeats it. A shared recognition of what is truly so, and of common mortality, spreads through every soul present, replacing all thought of judgment, condemnation, pardon, and patronage. From that moment, the shepherds no longer exchange looks of contempt, for the Court thereafter acts only according to truth and common humanity. Before the next Christmas, there are no beggars left in the fabulous nation, and the Truth and Death continue to look upon everyone as though they were their brothers.
By Maud Van Buren · First published 1927 · Genre: Fable, Allegory, Social Commentary · 5,011 words
A FABLE / _Edith Wyatt_
Once upon a time there was a beggar-maid named Anitra, who lived in a / cellar in the largest city of a wealthy and fabulous nation.[12]
A Beggar's Christmas is listed on Textopian as a short story by Maud Van Buren, dated 1927 CE.
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Christmas · short story · early twentieth century · American literature · holiday fiction · anthology · literary fiction · poverty · charity · social commentary · redemption · generosity