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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.
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