CHAPTER XXIX
To London
-
WHEN Hendon's term of service in the stocks was finished, he was
released and ordered to quit the region and come back no more. His
sword was restored to him, and also his mule and his donkey. He
mounted and rode off, followed by the king, the crowd opening with
quiet respectfulness to let them pass, and then dispersing when they
were gone.
Hendon was soon absorbed in thought. There were questions of
high import to be answered. What should he do? Whither should he go?
Powerful help must be found somewhere, or he must relinquish his
inheritance and remain under the imputation of being an impostor
besides. Where could he hope to find this powerful help? Where,
indeed! It was a knotty question. By and by a thought occurred to
him which pointed to a possibility- the slenderest of slender
possibilities, certainly, but still worth considering, for lack of any
other that promised anything at all. He remembered what old Andrews
had said about the young king's goodness and his generous championship
of the wronged and unfortunate. Why not go and try to get speech of
him and beg for justice? Ah, yes, but could so fantastic a pauper
get admission to the august presence of a monarch? Never mind- let
that matter take care of itself; it was a bridge that would not need
to be crossed till he should come to it. He was an old campaigner, and
used to inventing shifts and expedients; no doubt he would be able
to find a way. Yes, he would strike for the capital. Maybe his
father's old friend, Sir Humphrey Marlow, would help him- 'good old
Sir Humphrey, Head Lieutenant of the late king's kitchen, or
stables, or something'- Miles could not remember just what or which.
Now that he had something to turn his energies to, a distinctly
defined object to accomplish, the fog of humiliation and depression
that had settled down upon his spirits lifted and blew away, and he
raised his head and looked about him. He was surprised to see how
far he had come; the village was away behind him. The king was jogging
along in his wake, with his head bowed; for he, too, was deep in plans
and thinkings. A sorrowful misgiving clouded Hendon's newborn
cheerfulness; would the boy be willing to go again to a city where,
during all his brief life, he had never known anything but ill usage
and pinching want? But the question must be asked; it could not be
avoided; so Hendon reined up, and called out:
'I had forgotten to inquire whither we are bound. Thy commands, my
liege?'
'To London!'
Hendon moved on again, mightily contented with the answer- but
astonished at it, too.
The whole journey was made without an adventure of importance.
But it ended with one. About ten o'clock on the night of the night
of the 19th of February, they stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst
of a writhing, struggling jam of howling and hurrahing people, whose
beer-jolly faces stood out strongly in the glare from manifold
torches- and at that instant the decaying head of some former duke
or other grandee tumbled down between them, striking Hendon on the
elbow and then bounding off among the hurrying confusion of feet. So
evanescent and unstable are men's works in this world!- the late
good king is but three weeks dead and three days in his grave, and
already the adornments which he took such pains to select from
prominent people for his noble bridge are falling. A citizen
stumbled over that head, and drove his own head into the back of
somebody in front of him, who turned and knocked down the first person
that came handy, and was promptly laid out himself by that person's
friend. It was the right ripe time for a free fight, for the
festivities of the morrow- Coronation Day- were already beginning;
everybody was full of strong drink and patriotism; within five minutes
the free fight was occupying a good deal of ground; within ten or
twelve it covered an acre or so, and was become a riot. By this time
Hendon and the king were hopelessly separated from each other and lost
in the rush and turmoil of the roaring masses of humanity. And so we
leave them.
CHAPTER_XXX
CHAPTER XXX
Tom's Progress
-
WHILST the true king wandered about the land, poorly clad,
poorly fed, cuffed and derided by tramps one while, herding with
thieves and murderers in a jail another, and called idiot and impostor
by all impartially, the mock King Tom Canty enjoyed a quite
different experience.
When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning to have a
bright side for him. This bright side went on brightening more and
more every day; in a very little while it was become almost all
sunshine and delightfulness. He lost his fears; his misgivings faded
out and died; his embarrassments departed, and gave place to an easy
and confident bearing. He worked the whipping-boy mine to
ever-increasing profit.
He ordered my Lady Elizabeth and my Lady Jane Grey into his
presence when he wanted to play or talk, and dismissed them when he
was done with them, with the air of one familiarly accustomed to
such performances. It no longer confused him to have these lofty
personages kiss his hand at parting.
He came to enjoy being conducted to bed in state at night, and
dressed with intricate and solemn ceremony in the morning. It came
to be a proud pleasure to march to dinner attended by a glittering
procession of officers of state and gentlemen-at-arms; insomuch,
indeed, that he doubled his guard of gentlemen-at-arms, and made
them a hundred. He liked to hear the bugles sounding down the long
corridors, and the distant voices responding, 'Way for the King!'
He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state in council,
and seeming to be something more than the Lord Protector's mouthpiece.
He liked to receive great ambassadors and their gorgeous trains, and
listen to the affectionate messages they brought from illustrious
monarchs who called him 'brother.' Oh, happy Tom Canty, late of
Offal Court!
He enjoyed his splendid clothes, and ordered more; he found his
four hundred servants too few for his proper grandeur, and trebled
them. The adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet music to
his ears. He remained kind and gentle, and a sturdy and determined
champion of all that were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon
unjust laws; yet upon occasion, being offended, he could turn upon
an earl, or even a duke, and give him a look that would make him
tremble. Once, when his royal 'sister,' the grimly holy Lady Mary, set
herself to reason with him against the wisdom of his course in
pardoning so many people who would otherwise be jailed, or hanged,
or burned, and reminded him that their august late father's prisons
had sometimes contained as high as sixty thousand convicts at one
time, and that during his admirable reign he had delivered seventy-two
thousand thieves and robbers over to death by the executioner,*(21)
the boy was filled with generous indignation, and commanded her to
go to her closet, and beseech God to take away the stone that was in
her breast, and give her a human heart.
Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the poor little rightful
prince who had treated him so kindly, and flown out with such hot zeal
to avenge him upon the insolent sentinel at the palace gate? Yes;
his first royal days and nights were pretty well sprinkled with
painful thoughts about the lost prince, and with sincere longings
for his return and happy restoration to his native rights and
splendors. But as time wore on, and the prince did not come, Tom's
mind became more and more occupied with his new and enchanting
experiences, and by little and little the vanished monarch faded
almost out of his thoughts; and finally, when he did intrude upon them
at intervals, he was become an unwelcome specter, for he made Tom feel
guilty and ashamed.
Tom's poor mother and sisters traveled the same road out of his
mind. At first he pined for them, sorrowed for them, longed to see
them; but later, the thought of their coming some day in their rags
and dirt, and betraying him with their kisses, and pulling him down
from his lofty place and dragging him back to penury and degradation
and the slums, made him shudder. At last they ceased to trouble his
thoughts almost wholly. And he was content, even glad; for, whenever
their mournful and accusing faces did rise before him now, they made
him feel more despicable than the worms that crawl.
At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty was sinking to
sleep in his rich bed in the palace, guarded by his loyal vassals, and
surrounded by the pomps of royalty, a happy boy; for to-morrow was the
day appointed for his solemn crowning as king of England. At that same
hour, Edward, the true king, hungry and thirsty, soiled and
draggled, worn with travel, and clothed in rags and shreds- his
share of the results of the riot- was wedged in among a crowd of
people who were watching with deep interest certain hurrying gangs
of workmen who streamed in and out of Westminster Abbey, busy as ants;
they were making the last preparation for the royal coronation.
CHAPTER_XXXI
CHAPTER XXXI
The Recognition Procession
-
WHEN Tom Canty awoke the next morning, the air was heavy with a
thunderous murmur; all the distances were charged with it. It was
music to him; for it meant that the English world was out in its
strength to give loyal welcome to the great day.
Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a
wonderful floating pageant on the Thames; for by ancient custom the
'recognition procession' through London must start from the Tower, and
he was bound thither.
When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress
seemed suddenly rent in a thousand places, and from every rent
leaped a red tongue of flame and a white gush of smoke; a deafening
explosion followed, which drowned the shoutings of the multitude,
and made the ground tremble; the flame-jets, the smoke, and the
explosions were repeated over and over again with marvelous
celerity, so that in a few moments the old Tower disappeared in the
vast fog of its own smoke, all but the very top of the tall pile
called the White Tower; this, with its banners, stood out above the
dense bank of vapor as a mountain peak projects above a cloud-rack.
Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a prancing war-steed, whose
rich trappings almost reached to the ground; his 'uncle,' the Lord
Protector Somerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear; the
King's Guard formed in single ranks on either side, clad in
burnished armor; after the Protector followed a seemingly interminable
procession of resplendent nobles attended by their vassals; after
these came the lord mayor and the aldermanic body, in crimson velvet
robes, and with their gold chains across their breasts; and after
these the officers and members of all the guilds of London, in rich
raiment, and bearing the showy banners of the several corporations.
Also in the procession, as a special guard of honor through the
city, was the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company- an organization
already three hundred years old at that time, and the only military
body in England possessing the privilege (which it still possesses
in our day) of holding itself independent of the commands of
Parliament. It was a brilliant spectacle, and was hailed with
acclamations all along the line, as it took its stately way through
the packed multitudes of citizens. The chronicler says, 'The king,
as he entered the city, was received by the people with prayers,
welcomings, cries, and tender words, and all signs which argue an
earnest love of subjects toward their sovereign; and the king, by
holding up his glad countenance to such as stood afar off, and most
tender language to those that stood nigh his Grace, showed himself
no less thankful to receive the people's good will than they to
offer it. To all that wished him well, he gave thanks. To such as bade
"God save his Grace," he said in return, "God save you all!" and added
that "he thanked them with all his heart." Wonderfully transported
were the people with the loving answers and gestures of their king.'
In Fenchurch Street a 'fair child, in costly apparel,' stood on
a stage to welcome his majesty to the city. The last verse of his
greeting was in these words:
-
Welcome, O King! as much as hearts can think;
Welcome again, as much as tongue can tell-
Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will not shrink;
God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well.
-
The people burst forth in a glad shout, repeating with one voice
what the child had said. Tom Canty gazed abroad over the surging sea
of eager faces, and his heart swelled with exultation; and he felt
that the one thing worth living for in this world was to be a king,
and a nation's idol. Presently he caught sight, at a distance, of a
couple of his ragged Offal Court comrades- one of them the lord high
admiral in his late mimic court, the other the first lord of the
bedchamber in the same pretentious fiction; and his pride swelled
higher than ever. Oh, if they could only recognize him now! What
unspeakable glory it would be, if they could recognize him, and
realize that the derided mock king of the slums and back alleys was
become a real king, with illustrious dukes and princes for his
humble menials, and the English world at his feet! But he had to
deny himself, and choke down his desire, for such a recognition
might cost more than it would come to; so he turned away his head, and
left the two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings and glad
adulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing them upon.
Every now and then rose the cry, 'A largess! a largess!' and Tom
responded by scattering a handful of bright new coins abroad for the
multitude to scramble for.
The chronicler says, 'At the upper end of Gracechurch Street,
before the sign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous arch,
beneath which was a stage, which stretched from one side of the street
to the other. This was a historical pageant, representing the king's
immediate progenitors. There sat Elizabeth of York in the midst of
an immense white rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows
around her; by her side was Henry VII, issuing out of a vast red rose,
disposed in the same manner; the hands of the royal pair were locked
together, and the wedding-ring ostentatiously displayed. From the
red and white roses proceeded a stem, which reached up to a second
stage, occupied by Henry VIII, issuing from a red-and-white rose, with
the effigy of the new king's mother, Jane Seymour, represented by
his side. One branch sprang from this pair, which mounted to a third
stage, where sat the effigy of Edward VI himself, enthroned in royal
majesty; and the whole pageant was framed with wreaths of roses, red
and white.'
This quaint and gaudy spectacle so wrought upon the rejoicing
people, that their acclamations utterly smothered the small voice of
the child whose business it was to explain the thing in eulogistic
rhymes. But Tom Canty was not sorry; for this loyal uproar was sweeter
music to him than any poetry, no matter what its quality might be.
Whithersoever Tom turned his happy young face, the people recognized
the exactness of his effigy's likeness to himself, the flesh-and-blood
counterpart; and new whirlwinds of applause burst forth.
The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumphal arch
after another, and past a bewildering succession of spectacular and
symbolical tableaux, each of which typified and exalted some virtue,
or talent, or merit, of the little king's. 'Throughout the whole of
Cheapside, from every penthouse and window, hung banners and
streamers; and the richest carpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold
tapestried the streets- specimens of the great wealth of the stores
within; and the splendor of this thoroughfare was equaled in the other
streets, and in some even surpassed.'
'And all these wonders and these marvels are to welcome me- me!'
murmured Tom Canty.
The mock king's cheeks were flushed with excitement, his eyes were
flashing, his senses swam in a delirium of pleasure. 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! and up flew his hand, palm outward, before his eyes- that
old involuntary gesture, born of a forgotten episode, and
perpetuated by habit. 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 an 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.
The procession moved on, and still on, through ever-augmenting
splendors and ever-augmenting tempests of welcome; but to Tom Canty
they were as if they had not been. He neither saw nor heard. Royalty
had lost its grace and sweetness; its pomps were become a reproach.
Remorse was eating his heart out. He said, 'Would God I were free of
my captivity!'
He had unconsciously dropped back into the phraseology of the
first days of his compulsory greatness.
The shining pageant still went winding like a radiant and
interminable serpent down the crooked lanes of the quaint old city,
and through the huzzaing hosts; but still the king rode with bowed
head and vacant eyes, seeing only his mother's face and that wounded
look in it.
'Largess, largess!' The cry fell upon an unheeding ear.
'Long live Edward of England!' It seemed as if the earth shook
with the explosion; but there was no response from the king. He
heard it only as one hears the thunder of the surf when it is blown to
the ear out of a great distance, for it was smothered under another
sound which was still nearer, in his own breast, in his accusing
conscience- a voice which kept repeating those shameful words, 'I do
not know you, woman!'
The words smote upon the king's soul as the strokes of a funeral
bell smite upon the soul of a surviving friend when they remind him of
secret treacheries suffered at his hands by him that is gone.
New glories were unfolded at every turning; new wonders, new
marvels, sprung into view; the pent clamors of waiting batteries
were released; new raptures poured from the throats of the waiting
multitudes; but the king gave no sign, and the accusing voice that
went moaning through his comfortless breast was all the sound he
heard.
By and by the gladness in the faces of the populace changed a
little, and became touched with a something like solicitude or
anxiety; an abatement in the volume of applause was observable too.
The Lord Protector was quick to notice these things; he was as quick
to detect the cause. He spurred to the king's side, bent low in his
saddle, uncovered, and said:
'My liege, it is an ill time for dreaming. The people observe
thy downcast head, thy clouded mien, and they take it for an omen.
Be advised; unveil the sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these
boding vapors, and disperse them. Lift up thy face, and smile upon the
people.'
So saying, the duke scattered a handful of coins to right and
left, then retired to his place. The mock king did mechanically as
he had been bidden. His smile had no heart in it, but few eyes were
near enough or sharp enough to detect that. The noddings of his plumed
head as he saluted his subjects were full of grace and graciousness;
the largess which he delivered from his hand was royally liberal; so
the people's anxiety vanished, and the acclamations burst forth
again in as mighty a volume as before.
Still once more, a little before the progress was ended, the
duke was obliged to ride forward, and make remonstrance. He whispered:
'O dread sovereign! shake off these fatal humors; the eyes of
the world are upon thee.' Then he added with sharp annoyance,
'Perdition catch that crazy pauper! 'twas she that hath disturbed your
Highness.'
The gorgeous figure turned a lusterless eye upon the duke, and
said in a dead voice:
'She was my mother!'
'My God!' groaned the Protector as he reined his horse backward to
his post, 'the omen was pregnant with prophecy. He is gone mad again!'
CHAPTER_XXXII
CHAPTER XXXII
Coronation Day
-
LET us go backward a few hours, and place ourselves in Westminster
Abbey, at four o'clock in the morning of this memorable Coronation
Day. We are not without company; for although it is still night, we
find the torch-lighted galleries already filling up with people who
are well content to sit still and wait seven or eight hours till the
time shall come for them to see what they may not hope to see twice in
their lives- the coronation of a king. Yes, London and Westminster
have been astir ever since the warning guns boomed at three o'clock,
and already crowds of untitled rich folk who have bought the privilege
of trying to find sitting-room in the galleries are flocking in at the
entrances reserved for their sort.
The hours drag along, tediously enough. All stir has ceased for
some time, for every gallery has long ago been packed. We may sit now,
and look and think at our leisure. We have glimpses here and there and
yonder, through the dim cathedral twilight, of portions of many
galleries and balconies, wedged full with people, the other portions
of these galleries and balconies being cut off from sight by
intervening pillars and architectural projections. We have in view the
whole of the great north transept- empty, and waiting for England's
privileged ones. We see also the ample area or platform, carpeted with
rich stuffs, whereon the throne stands. The throne occupies the center
of the platform, and is raised above it upon an elevation of four
steps. Within the seat of the throne is inclosed a rough flat rock-
the Stone of Scone- which many generations of Scottish kings sat on to
be crowned, and so it in time became holy enough to answer a like
purpose for English monarchs. Both the throne and its footstool are
covered with cloth-of-gold.
Stillness reigns, the torches blink dully, the time drags heavily.
But at last the lagging daylight asserts itself, the torches are
extinguished, and a mellow radiance suffuses the great spaces. All
features of the noble building are distinct now, but soft and
dreamy, for the sun is lightly veiled with clouds.
At seven o'clock the first break in the drowsy monotony occurs;
for on the stroke of this hour the first peeress enters the
transept, clothed like Solomon for splendor, and is conducted to her
appointed place by an official clad in satins and velvets, whilst a
duplicate of him gathers up the lady's long train, follows after, and,
when the lady is seated, arranges the train across her lap for her. He
then places her footstool according to her desire, after which he puts
her coronet where it will be convenient to her hand when the time
for the simultaneous coroneting of the nobles shall arrive.
By this time the peeresses are flowing in in a glittering
stream, and satin-clad officials are flitting and glinting everywhere,
seating them and making them comfortable. The scene is animated enough
now. There is stir and life, and shifting color everywhere. After a
time, quiet reigns again; for the peeresses are all come, and are
all in their places- a solid acre, or such a matter, of human flowers,
resplendent in variegated colors, and frosted like a Milky Way with
diamonds. There are all ages here: brown, wrinkled, white-haired
dowagers who are able to go back, and still back, down the stream of
time, and recall the crowning of Richard III and the troublous days of
that old forgotten age; and there are handsome middle-aged dames;
and lovely and gracious young matrons; and gentle and beautiful
young girls, with beaming eyes and fresh complexions, who may possibly
put on their jeweled coronets awkwardly when the great time comes; for
the matter will be new to them, and their excitement will be a sore
hindrance. Still, this may not happen, for the hair of all these
ladies has been arranged with a special view to the swift and
successful lodging of the crown in its place when the signal comes.
We have seen that this massed array of peeresses is sown thick
with diamonds, and we also see that it is a marvelous spectacle- but
now we are about to be astonished in earnest. About nine, the clouds
suddenly break away and a shaft of sunshine cleaves the mellow
atmosphere, and drifts slowly along the ranks of ladies; and every
rank it touches flames into a dazzling splendor of many-colored fires,
and we tingle to our finger-tips with the electric thrill that is shot
through us by the surprise and the beauty of the spectacle!
Presently a special envoy from some distant corner of the Orient,
marching with the general body of foreign ambassadors, crosses this
bar of sunshine, and we catch our breath, the glory that streams and
flashes and palpitates about him is so overpowering; for he is crusted
from head to heels with gems, and his slightest movement showers a
dancing radiance all around him.
Let us change the tense for convenience. The time drifted along-
one hour- two hours- two hours and a half; then the deep booming of
artillery told that the king and his grand procession had arrived at
last; so the waiting multitude rejoiced. All knew that a further delay
must follow, for the king must be prepared and robed for the solemn
ceremony; but this delay would be pleasantly occupied by the
assembling of the peers of the realm in their stately robes. These
were conducted ceremoniously to their seats, and their coronets placed
conveniently at hand; and meanwhile the multitude in the galleries
were alive with interest, for most of them were beholding for the
first time, dukes, earls, and barons, whose names had been
historical for five hundred years. When all were finally seated, the
spectacle from the galleries and all coigns of vantage was complete; a
gorgeous one to look upon and to remember.
Now the robed and mitered great heads of the church, and their
attendants, filed in upon the platform and took their appointed
places; these were followed by the Lord Protector and other great
officials, and these again by a steel-clad detachment of the Guard.
There was a waiting pause; then, at a signal, a triumphant peal of
music burst forth, and Tom Canty, dothed in a long robe of
cloth-of-gold, appeared at a door, and stepped upon the platform.
The entire multitude rose, and the ceremony of the Recognition ensued.
Then a noble anthem swept the Abbey with its rich waves of
sound; and thus heralded and welcomed, Tom Canty was conducted to
the throne. The ancient ceremonies went on with impressive
solemnity, whilst the audience gazed; and as they drew nearer and
nearer to completion, Tom Canty grew pale, and still paler, and a deep
and steadily deepening woe and despondency settled down upon his
spirits and upon his remorseful heart.
At last the final act was at hand. The Archbishop of Canterbury
lifted up the crown of England from its cushion and held it out over
the trembling mock king's head. In the same instant a rainbow radiance
flashed along the spacious transept; for with one impulse every
individual in the great concourse of nobles lifted a coronet and
poised it over his or her head- and paused in that attitude.
A deep hush pervaded the Abbey. At this impressive moment, a
startling apparition intruded upon the scene- an apparition observed
by none in the absorbed multitude, until it suddenly appeared,
moving up the great central aisle. It was a boy, bareheaded, ill shod,
and clothed in coarse plebeian garments that were falling to rags.
He raised his hand with a solemnity which ill comported with his
soiled and sorry aspect, and delivered this note of warning:
'I forbid you to set the crown of England upon that forfeited
head. I am the king!'
In an instant several indignant hands were laid upon the boy;
but in the same instant Tom Canty, in his regal vestments, made a
swift step forward and cried out in a ringing voice:
'Loose him and forbear! He is the king!'
A sort of panic of astonishment swept the assemblage, and they
partly rose in their places and stared in a bewildered way at one
another and at the chief figures in this scene, like persons who
wondered whether they were awake and in their senses, or asleep and
dreaming. The Lord Protector was as amazed as the rest, but quickly
recovered himself and exclaimed in a voice of authority:
'Mind not his Majesty, his malady is upon him again- seize the
vagabond!'
He would have been obeyed, but the mock king stamped his foot
and cried out:
'On your peril! Touch him not, he is the king!'
The hands were withheld; a paralysis fell upon the house, no one
moved, no one spoke; indeed, no one knew how to act or what to say, in
so strange and surprising an emergency. While all minds were
struggling to right themselves, the boy still moved steadily
forward, with high port and confident mien; he had never halted from
the beginning; and while the tangled minds still floundered
helplessly, he stepped upon the platform, and the mock king ran with a
glad face to meet him; and fell on his knees before him and said:
'Oh, my lord the king, let poor Tom Canty be first to swear fealty
to thee, and say " Put on thy crown and enter into thine own again!"'
The Lord Protector's eye fell sternly upon the new-comer's face;
but straightway the sternness vanished away, and gave place to an
expression of wondering surprise. This thing happened also to the
other great officers. They glanced at each other, and retreated a step
by a common and unconscious impulse. The thought in each mind was
the same: 'What a strange resemblance!'
The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in perplexity, then
he said, with grave respectfulness:
'By your favor, sir, I desire to ask certain questions which-'
'I will answer them, my lord.'
The duke asked him many questions about the court, the late
king, the prince, the princesses. The boy answered them correctly
and without hesitating. He described the rooms of state in the palace,
the late king's apartments, and those of the Prince of Wales.
It was strange; it was wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable- so
all said that heard it. The tide was beginning to turn, and Tom
Canty's hopes to run high, when the Lord Protector shook his head
and said:
'It is true it is most wonderful- but it is no more than our
lord the king likewise can do.' This remark, and this reference to
himself, as still the king, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his
hopes crumbling from under him.
'These are not proofs,' added the Protector.
The tide was turning very fast now, very fast, indeed- but in
the wrong direction; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on the
throne, and sweeping the other out to sea. The Lord Protector communed
with himself- shook his head- the thought forced itself upon him,
'It is perilous to the state and to us all, to entertain so fateful
a riddle as this; it could divide the nation and undermine the
throne.' He turned and said,
'Sir Thomas, arrest this- No, hold!' His face lighted, and he
confronted the ragged candidate with this question:
'Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this truly, and the
riddle is unriddled; for only he that was Prince of Wales can so
answer! On so trivial a thing hang a throne and a dynasty!'
It was a lucky thought, a happy thought. That it was so considered
by the great officials was manifested by the silent applause that shot
from eye to eye around their circle in the form of bright approving
glances. Yes, none but the true prince could dissolve the stubborn
mystery of the vanished Great Seal- this forlorn little impostor had
been taught his lesson well, but here his teachings must fail, for his
teacher himself could not answer that question- ah, very good, very
good indeed; now we shall be rid of this troublesome and perilous
business in short order! And so they nodded invisibly and smiled
inwardly with satisfaction, and looked to see this foolish lad
stricken with a palsy of guilty confusion. How surprised they were,
then, to see nothing of the sort happen- how they marveled to hear him
answer up promptly, in a confident and untroubled voice, and say:
'There is naught in this riddle that is difficult.' Then,
without so much as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave this
command, with the easy manner of one accustomed to doing such
things: 'My Lord St. John, go you to my private cabinet in the palace-
for none knoweth the place better than you- and, close down to the
floor, in the left corner remotest from the door that opens from the
antechamber, you shall find in the wall a brazen nail-head; press upon
it and a little jewel closet will fly open which not even you do
know of- no, nor any soul else in all the world but me and the
trusty artisan that did contrive it for me. The first thing that
falleth under your eye will be the Great Seal- fetch it hither.'
All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still more
to see the little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancy or
apparent fear of mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly
convincing air of having known him all his life. The peer was almost
surprised into obeying. He even made a movement as if to go, but
quickly recovered his tranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with
a blush. Tom Canty turned upon him and said, sharply:
'Why dost thou hesitate? Hast not heard the king's command? Go!'
The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance- and it was observed
that it was a significantly cautious and non-committal one, it not
being delivered at either of the kings, but at the neutral ground
about half-way between the two- and took his leave.
Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that official
group which was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady and
persistent- a movement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is
turned slowly, whereby the components of one splendid cluster fall
away and join themselves to another- a movement which, little by
little, in the present case, dissolved the glittering crowd that stood
about Tom Canty and clustered it together again in the neighborhood of
the new-comer. Tom Canty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief season
of deep suspense and waiting- during which even the few faint-hearts
still remaining near Tom Canty gradually scraped together courage
enough to glide, one by one, over to the majority. So at last Tom
Canty, in his royal robes and jewels, stood wholly alone and
isolated from the world, a conspicuous figure, occupying an eloquent
vacancy.
Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As he advanced up the
mid-aisle the interest was so intense that the low murmur of
conversation in the great assemblage died out and was succeeded by a
profound hush, a breathless stillness, through which his footfalls
pulsed with a dull and distant sound. Every eye was fastened upon
him as he moved along. He reached the platform, paused a moment,
then moved toward Tom Canty with a deep obeisance, and said:
'Sire, the Seal is not there!'
A mob does not melt away from the presence of a plague-patient
with more haste than the band of pallid and terrified courtiers melted
away from the presence of the shabby little claimant of the Crown.
In a moment he stood all alone, without a friend or supporter, a
target upon which was concentrated a bitter fire of scornful and angry
looks. The Lord Protector called out fiercely:
'Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him through the
town- the paltry knave is worth no more consideration!'
Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but Tom Canty
waved them off and said:
'Back! Whoso touches him perils his life!'
The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last degree. He said to
the Lord St. John:
'Searched you well?- but it boots not to ask that. It doth seem
passing strange. Little things, trifles, slip out of one's ken, and
one does not think it matter for surprise; but how a so bulky thing as
the Seal of England can vanish away and no man be able to get track of
it again- a massy golden disk-'
Tom Canty, with beaming eyes, sprang forward and shouted:
'Hold, that is enough! Was it round?- and thick?- and had it
letters and devices graved upon it?- Yes? Oh, now I know what this
Great Seal is that there's been such worry and pother about! An ye had
described it to me, ye could have had it three weeks ago. Right well I
know where it lies; but it was not I that put it there- first.'
'Who, then, my liege?' asked the Lord Protector.
'He that stands there- the rightful king of England. And he
shall tell you himself where it lies- then you will believe he knew it
of his own knowledge. Bethink thee, my king- spur thy memory- it was
the last, the very last thing thou didst that day before thou didst
rush forth from the palace, clothed in my rags, to punish the
soldier that insulted me.'
A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or a whisper, and
all eyes were fixed upon the new-comer, who stood, with bent head
and corrugated brow, groping in his memory among a thronging multitude
of valueless recollections for one single little elusive fact, which
found, would seat him upon a throne- unfound, would leave him as he
was, for good and all- a pauper and an outcast. Moment after moment
passed- the moments built themselves into minutes- still the boy
struggled silently on, and gave no sign. But at last he heaved a sigh,
shook his head slowly, and said, with a trembling lip and in a
despondent voice:
'I call the scene back- all of it- but the Seal hath no place in
it.' He paused, then looked up, and said with gentle dignity, 'My
lords and gentlemen, if ye will rob your rightful sovereign of his own
for lack of this evidence which he is not able to furnish, I may not
stay ye, being powerless. But-'
'O folly, O madness, my king!' cried Tom Canty, in a panic,
'wait!- think! Do not give up!- the cause is not lost! Nor shall be,
neither! List to what I say- follow every word- I am going to bring
that morning back again, every hap just as it happened. We talked- I
told you of my sisters, Nan and Bet- ah, yes, you remember that; and
about mine old grandam- and the rough games of the lads of Offal
Court- yes, you remember these things also; very well, follow me
still, you shall recall everything. You gave me food and drink, and
did with princely courtesy send away the servants, so that my low
breeding might not shame me before them- ah, yes, this also you
remember.'
As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy nodded his
head in recognition of them, the great audience and the officials
stared in puzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history,
yet how could this impossible conjunction between a prince and a
beggar boy have come about? Never was a company of people so
perplexed, so interested, and so stupefied, before.
'For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments. Then we stood
before a mirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed as if
there had been no change made- yes, you remember that. Then you
noticed that the soldier had hurt my hand- look! here it is, I
cannot yet even write with it, the fingers are so stiff. At this
your Highness sprang up, vowing vengeance upon that soldier, and ran
toward the door- you passed a table- that thing you call the Seal
lay on that table- you snatched it up and looked eagerly about, as
if for a place to hide it- your eye caught sight of-'
'There, 'tis sufficient!- and the dear God be thanked!'
exclaimed the ragged claimant, in a mighty excitement. 'Go, my good
St. John- in an arm-piece of the Milanese armor that hangs on the
wall, thou'lt find the Seal!'
'Right, my king! right!' cried Tom Canty; 'now the scepter of
England is thine own; and it were better for him that would dispute it
that he had been born dumb! Go, my Lord St. John, give thy feet
wings!'
The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of its
mind with uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement. On the
floor and on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic conversation
burst forth, and for some time nobody knew anything or heard
anything or was interested in anything but what his neighbor was
shouting into his ear, or he was shouting into his neighbor's ear.
Time- nobody knew how much of it- swept by unheeded and unnoted. At
last a sudden hush fell upon the house, and in the same moment St.
John appeared upon the platform and held the Great Seal aloft in his
hand. Then such a shout went up!
'Long live the true king!'
For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and the crash of
musical instruments, and was white with a storm of waving
handkerchiefs; and through it all a ragged lad, the most conspicuous
figure in England, stood, flushed and happy and proud, in the center
of the spacious platform, with the great vassals of the kingdom
kneeling around him.
Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out:
'Now, O my king, take these regal garments back, and give poor
Tom, thy servant, his shreds and remnants again.'
The Lord Protector spoke up:
'Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into the Tower.'
But the new king, the true king, said:
'I will not have it so. But for him I had not got my crown
again- none shall lay a hand upon him to harm him. And as for thee, my
good uncle, my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is not grateful
toward this poor lad, for I hear he hath made thee a duke'- the
Protector blushed-' yet he was not a king; wherefore, what is thy fine
title worth now? To-morrow you shall sue to me, through him, for its
confirmation, else no duke, but a simple earl, shalt thou remain.'
Under this rebuke, his grace the Duke of Somerset retired a
little from the front for the moment. The king turned to Tom, and
said, kindly:
'My poor boy, how was it that you could remember where I hid the
Seal when I could not remember it myself?'
'Ah, my king, that was easy, since I used it divers days.'
'Used it- yet could not explain where it was?'
'I did not know it was that they wanted. They did not describe it,
your majesty.'
'Then how used you it?'
The red blood began to steal up into Tom's cheeks, and he
dropped his eyes and was silent.
'Speak up, good lad, and fear nothing,' said the king. 'How used
you the Great Seal of England?'
Tom stammered a moment, in a pathetic confusion, then got it out:
'To crack nuts with!'
Poor child, the avalanche of laughter that greeted this, nearly
swept him off his feet. But if a doubt remained in any mind that Tom
Canty was not the king of England and familiar with the august
appurtenances of royalty, this reply disposed of it utterly.
Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been removed from Tom's
shoulders to the king's, whose rags were effectively hidden from sight
under it. Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed; the true king
was anointed and the crown set upon his head, whilst cannon
thundered the news to the city, and all London seemed to rock with
applause.
CHAPTER_XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIII
Edward as King
-
MILES HENDON was picturesque enough before he got into the riot on
London Bridge- he was more so when he got out of it. He had but little
money when he got in, none at all when he got out. The pickpockets had
stripped him of his last farthing.
But no matter, so he found his boy. Being a soldier, he did not go
at his task in a random way, but set to work, first of all, to arrange
his campaign.
What would the boy naturally do? Where would he naturally go?
Well- argued Miles- he would naturally go to his former haunts, for
that is the instinct of unsound minds, when homeless and forsaken,
as well as of sound ones. Whereabouts were his former haunts? His
rags, taken together with the low villain who seemed to know him and
who even claimed to be his father, indicated that his home was in
one or other of the poorest and meanest districts of London. Would the
search for him be difficult, or long? No, it was likely to be easy and
brief. He would not hunt for the boy, he would hunt for a crowd; in
the center of a big crowd or a little one, sooner or later he should
find his poor little friend, sure; and the mangy mob would be
entertaining itself with pestering and aggravating the boy, who
would be proclaiming himself king, as usual. Then Miles Hendon would
cripple some of those people, and carry off his little ward, and
comfort and cheer him with loving words, and the two would never be
separated any more.
So Miles started on his quest. Hour after hour he tramped
through back alleys and squalid streets, seeking groups and crowds,
and finding no end of them, but never any sign of the boy. This
greatly surprised him, but did not discourage him. To his notion,
there was nothing the matter with his plan of campaign; the only
miscalculation about it was that the campaign was becoming a lengthy
one, whereas he had expected it to be short.
When daylight arrived at last, he had made many a mile, and
canvassed many a crowd, but the only result was that he was
tolerably tired, rather hungry, and very sleepy. He wanted some
breakfast, but there was no way to get it. To beg for it did not occur
to him; as to pawning his sword, he would as soon have thought of
parting with his honor; he could spare some of his clothes- yes, but
one could as easily find a customer for a disease as for such clothes.
At noon he was still tramping- among the rabble which followed
after the royal procession now; for he argued that this regal
display would attract his little lunatic powerfully. He followed the
pageant through all its devious windings about London, and all the way
to Westminster and the Abbey. He drifted here and there among the
multitudes that were massed in the vicinity for a weary long time,
baffled and perplexed, and finally wandered off thinking, and trying
to contrive some way to better his plan of campaign. By and by, when
he came to himself out of his musings, he discovered that the town was
far behind him and that the day was growing old. He was near the
river, and in the country; it was a region of fine rural seats- not
the sort of district to welcome clothes like his.
It was not at all cold; so he stretched himself on the ground in
the lee of a hedge to rest and think. Drowsiness presently began to
settle upon his senses; the faint and far-off boom of cannon was
wafted to his ear, and he said to himself, 'The new king is
crowned,' and straightway fell asleep. He had not slept or rested,
before, for more than thirty hours. He did not wake again until near
the middle of the next morning.
He got up, lame, stiff, and half famished, washed himself in the
river, stayed his stomach with a pint or two of water, and trudged off
toward Westminster grumbling at himself for having wasted so much
time. Hunger helped him to a new plan now; he would try to get
speech with old Sir Humphrey Marlow and borrow a few marks, and- but
that was enough of a plan for the present; it would be time enough
to enlarge it when this first stage should be accomplished.
Toward eleven o'clock he approached the palace; and although a
host of showy people were about him, moving in the same direction,
he was not inconspicuous- his costume took care of that. He watched
these people's faces narrowly, hoping to find a charitable one whose
possessor might be willing to carry his name to the old lieutenant- as
to trying to get into the palace himself, that was simply out of the
question.
Presently our whipping-boy passed him, then wheeled about and
scanned his figure well, saying to himself, 'An that is not the very
vagabond his majesty is in such a worry about, then am I an ass-
though belike I was that before. He answereth the description to a
rag- that God should make two such, would be to cheapen miracles, by
wasteful repetition. I would I could contrive an excuse to speak
with him.'
Miles Hendon saved him the trouble; for he turned about, then,
as a man generally will when somebody mesmerizes him by gazing hard at
him from behind; and observing a strong interest in the boy's eyes, he
stepped toward him and said:
'You have just come out from the palace; do you belong there?'
'Yes, your worship.'
'Know you Sir Humphrey Marlow?'
The boy started, and said to himself, 'Lord! mine old departed
father!' Then he answered, aloud, 'Right well, your worship.'
'Good- is he within?'
'Yes,' said the boy; and added, to himself, 'within his grave.'
Might I crave your favor to carry my name to him, and say I beg to
say a word in his ear?'
'I will despatch the business right willingly, fair sir.'
'Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is here without- I
shall be greatly bounden to you, my good lad.'
The boy looked disappointed- 'the king did not name him so,' he
said to himself- 'but it mattereth not, this is his twin brother,
and can give his majesty news of t'other Sir-Odds-and-Ends, I
warrant.' So he said to Miles, 'Step in there a moment, good sir,
and wait till I bring you word.'
Hendon retired to the place indicated- it was a recess sunk in the
palace wall, with a stone bench in it- a shelter for sentinels in
bad weather. He had hardly seated himself when some halberdiers, in
charge of an officer, passed by. The officer saw him, halted his
men, and commanded Hendon to come forth. He obeyed, and was promptly
arrested as a suspicious character prowling within the precincts of
the palace. Things began to look ugly. Poor Miles was going to
explain, but the officer roughly silenced him, and ordered his men
to disarm him and search him.
'God of his mercy grant that they find somewhat,' said poor Miles;
'I have searched enow, and failed, yet is my need greater than
theirs.'
Nothing was found but a document. The officer tore it open, and
Hendon smiled when he recognized the 'pot-hooks' made by his lost
little friend that black day at Hendon Hall. The officer's face grew
dark as he read the English paragraph, and Miles blenched to the
opposite color as he listened.
'Another new claimant of the crown!' cried the officer. 'Verily
they breed like rabbits to-day. Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep
him fast while I convey this precious paper within and send it to
the king.
He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip of the
halberdiers.
'Now is my evil luck ended at last,' muttered Hendon, 'for I shall
dangle at a rope's end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of
writing. And what will become of my poor lad!- ah, only the good God
knoweth.'
By and by he saw the officer coming again, in a great hurry; so he
plucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as
became a man. The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and
return his sword to him; then bowed respectfully, and said:
'Please you, sir, to follow me.'
Hendon followed, saying to himself, 'An I were not travelling to
death and judgment, and so must needs economize in sin, I would
throttle this knave for his mock courtesy.'
The two traversed a populous court, and arrived at the grand
entrance of the palace, where the officer, with another bow, delivered
Hendon into the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with
profound respect and led him forward through a great hall, lined on
both sides with rows of splendid flunkies (who made reverential
obeisance as the two passed along, but fell into death-throes of
silent laughter at our stately scarecrow the moment his back was
turned), and up a broad staircase, among flocks of fine folk, and
finally conducted him to a vast room, clove a passage for him
through the assembled nobility of England, then made a bow, reminded
him to take his hat off, and left him standing in the middle of the
room, a mark for all eyes, for plenty of indignant frowns, and for a
sufficiency of amused and derisive smiles.
Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered. There sat the young king,
under a canopy of state, five steps away, with his head bent down
and aside, speaking with a sort of human bird of paradise- a duke,
maybe; Hendon observed to himself that it was hard enough to be
sentenced to death in the full vigor of life, without having this
peculiarly public humiliation added. He wished the king would hurry
about it- some of the gaudy people near by were becoming pretty
offensive. At this moment the king raised his head slightly and Hendon
caught a good view of his face. The sight nearly took his breath away!
He stood gazing at the fair young face like one transfixed; then
presently ejaculated:
'Lo, the lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows on his throne!'
He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing and marveling;
then turned his eyes around and about, scanning the gorgeous throng
and the splendid saloon, murmuring, 'But these are real- verily
these are real- surely it is not a dream.'
He stared at the king again- and thought, 'Is it a dream?... or is
he the veritable sovereign of England, and not the friendless poor Tom
o' Bedlam I took him for- who shall solve me this riddle?'
A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode to the wall,
gathered up a chair, brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat
down in it!
A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand was laid upon him,
and a voice exclaimed:
'Up, thou mannerless clown!- wouldst sit in the presence of the
king?'
The disturbance attracted his majesty's attention, who stretched
forth his hand and cried out:
'Touch him not, it is his right!'
The throng fell back, stupefied. The king went on:
'Learn ye all, ladies, lords and gentlemen, that this is my trusty
and well-beloved servant, Miles Hendon, who interposed his good
sword and saved his prince from bodily harm and possible death- and
for this he is a knight, by the king's voice. Also learn, that for a
higher service, in that he saved his sovereign stripes and shame,
taking these upon himself, he is a peer of England, Earl of Kent,
and shall have gold and lands meet for the dignity. More- the
privilege which he hath just exercised is his by royal grant; for we
have ordained that the chiefs of his line shall have and hold the
right to sit in the presence of the majesty of England henceforth, age
after age, so long as the crown shall endure. Molest him not.'
Two persons, who, through delay, had only arrived from the country
during this morning, and had now been in this room only five
minutes, stood listening to these words and looking at the king,
then at the scarecrow, then at the king again, in a sort of torpid
bewilderment. These were Sir Hugh and the Lady Edith. But the new earl
did not see them. He was still staring at the monarch, in a dazed way,
and muttering:
'Oh, body o' me! This my pauper! This my lunatic! This is he
whom I would show what grandeur was, in my house of seventy rooms
and seven and twenty servants! This is he who had never known aught
but rags for raiment, kicks for comfort, and offal for diet! This is
he whom I adopted and would make respectable! Would God I had a bag to
hide my head in!'
Then his manners suddenly came back to him, and he dropped upon
his knees, with his hands between the king's, and swore allegiance and
did homage for his lands and titles. Then he rose and stood
respectfully aside, a mark still for all eyes- and much envy, too.
Now the king discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke out, with wrathful
voice and kindling eye:
'Strip this robber of his false show and stolen estates, and put
him under lock and key till I have need of him.'
The late Sir Hugh was led away.
There was a stir at the other end of the room now; the
assemblage fell apart, and Tom Canty, quaintly but richly clothed,
marched down, between these living walls, preceded by an usher. He
knelt before the king, who said:
'I have learned the story of these past few weeks, and am well
pleased with thee. Thou hast governed the realm with right royal
gentleness and mercy. Thou hast found thy mother and thy sisters
again? Good; they shall be cared for- and thy father shall hang, if
thou desire it and the law consent. 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 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.'
The proud and happy Tom Canty rose and kissed the king's hand, and
was conducted from the presence. He did not waste any time, but flew
to his mother, to tell her and Nan and Bet all about it and get them
to help him enjoy the great news.*(22)
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