by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXXI. The Recognition procession.
When Tom Canty awoke the next morning, the air was heavy with athunderous murmur: ?all the distances were charged with it. ?It wasmusic to him; for it meant that the English world was out in itsstrength to give loyal welcome to the great day.
Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a wonderfulfloating pageant on the Thames; for by ancient custom the 'recognitionprocession' through London must start from the Tower, and he was boundthither.
When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress seemedsuddenly rent in a thousand places, and from every rent leaped ared tongue of flame and a white gush of smoke; a deafening explosionfollowed, which drowned the shoutings of the multitude, and made theground tremble; the flame-jets, the smoke, and the explosions, wererepeated over and over again with marvellous celerity, so that in a fewmoments the old Tower disappeared in the vast fog of its own smoke, allbut the very top of the tall pile called the White Tower; this, withits banners, stood out above the dense bank of vapour as a mountain-peakprojects above a cloud-rack.
Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a prancing war-steed, whose richtrappings almost reached to the ground; his 'uncle,' the Lord ProtectorSomerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear; the King's Guardformed in single ranks on either side, clad in burnished armour;after the Protector followed a seemingly interminable procession ofresplendent nobles attended by their vassals; after these came the lordmayor and the aldermanic body, in crimson velvet robes, and with theirgold chains across their breasts; and after these the officers andmembers of all the guilds of London, in rich raiment, and bearing theshowy banners of the several corporations. ?Also in the procession, as aspecial guard of honour through the city, was the Ancient and HonourableArtillery Company--an organisation already three hundred years oldat that time, and the only military body in England possessing theprivilege (which it still possesses in our day) of holding itselfindependent of the commands of Parliament. ?It was a brilliantspectacle, and was hailed with acclamations all along the line, as ittook its stately way through the packed multitudes of citizens. Thechronicler says, 'The King, as he entered the city, was received by thepeople with prayers, welcomings, cries, and tender words, and all signswhich argue an earnest love of subjects toward their sovereign; and theKing, by holding up his glad countenance to such as stood afar off, andmost tender language to those that stood nigh his Grace, showed himselfno less thankful to receive the people's goodwill than they to offer it.?To all that wished him well, he gave thanks. ?To such as bade "God savehis Grace," he said in return, "God save you all!" and added that "hethanked them with all his heart." Wonderfully transported were thepeople with the loving answers and gestures of their King.'
In Fenchurch Street a 'fair child, in costly apparel,' stood on a stageto welcome his Majesty to the city. ?The last verse of his greeting wasin these words--
'Welcome, O King! as much as hearts can think; Welcome, again, as muchas tongue can tell,--Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that willnot shrink: God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well.'
The people burst forth in a glad shout, repeating with one voice whatthe child had said. ?Tom Canty gazed abroad over the surging sea ofeager faces, and his heart swelled with exultation; and he felt thatthe one thing worth living for in this world was to be a king, and anation's idol. ?Presently he caught sight, at a distance, of a coupleof his ragged Offal Court comrades--one of them the lord high admiral inhis late mimic court, the other the first lord of the bedchamber in thesame pretentious fiction; and his pride swelled higher than ever. ?Oh,if they could only recognise him now! ?What unspeakable glory it wouldbe, if they could recognise him, and realise that the derided mock kingof the slums and back alleys was become a real King, with illustriousdukes and princes for his humble menials, and the English world at hisfeet! ?But he had to deny himself, and choke down his desire, for sucha recognition might cost more than it would come to: ?so he turned awayhis head, and left the two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings andglad adulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing themupon.
Every now and then rose the cry, "A largess! a largess!" and Tomresponded by scattering a handful of bright new coins abroad for themultitude to scramble for.
The chronicler says, 'At the upper end of Gracechurch Street, before thesign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous arch, beneath whichwas a stage, which stretched from one side of the street to the other.This was an historical pageant, representing the King's immediateprogenitors. ?There sat Elizabeth of York in the midst of an immensewhite rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows around her; by herside was Henry VII., issuing out of a vast red rose, disposed in thesame manner: ?the hands of the royal pair were locked together, and thewedding-ring ostentatiously displayed. ?From the red and white rosesproceeded a stem, which reached up to a second stage, occupied by HenryVIII., issuing from a red and white rose, with the effigy of the newKing's mother, Jane Seymour, represented by his side. ?One branch sprangfrom this pair, which mounted to a third stage, where sat the effigy ofEdward VI. himself, enthroned in royal majesty; and the whole pageantwas 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 childwhose business it was to explain the thing in eulogistic rhymes. ?ButTom Canty was not sorry; for this loyal uproar was sweeter music to himthan any poetry, no matter what its quality might be. ?Whithersoever Tomturned his happy young face, the people recognised the exactness of hiseffigy's likeness to himself, the flesh and blood counterpart; and newwhirlwinds of applause burst forth.
The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumphal arch afteranother, and past a bewildering succession of spectacular and symbolicaltableaux, each of which typified and exalted some virtue, or talent, ormerit, of the little King's. ?'Throughout the whole of Cheapside, fromevery penthouse and window, hung banners and streamers; and the richestcarpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold tapestried the streets--specimensof the great wealth of the stores within; and the splendour of thisthoroughfare was equalled in the other streets, and in some evensurpassed.'
"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 wereflashing, his senses swam in a delirium of pleasure. ?At this point,just as he was raising his hand to fling another rich largess, he caughtsight of a pale, astounded face, which was strained forward out ofthe second rank of the crowd, its intense eyes riveted upon him. ?Asickening consternation struck through him; he recognised hismother! and up flew his hand, palm outward, before his eyes--that oldinvoluntary gesture, born of a forgotten episode, and perpetuated byhabit. ?In an instant more she had torn her way out of the press, andpast the guards, and was at his side. ?She embraced his leg, she coveredit with kisses, she cried, "O my child, my darling!" lifting toward hima face that was transfigured with joy and love. ?The same instant anofficer of the King's Guard snatched her away with a curse, and senther reeling back whence she came with a vigorous impulse from hisstrong arm. ?The words "I do not know you, woman!" were falling from TomCanty's lips when this piteous thing occurred; but it smote him to theheart to see her treated so; and as she turned for a last glimpse ofhim, whilst the crowd was swallowing her from his sight, she seemed sowounded, so broken-hearted, that a shame fell upon him which consumedhis pride to ashes, and withered his stolen royalty. ?His grandeurs werestricken valueless: they seemed to fall away from him like rotten rags.
The procession moved on, and still on, through ever augmentingsplendours and ever augmenting tempests of welcome; but to Tom Cantythey were as if they had not been. ?He neither saw nor heard. ?Royaltyhad lost its grace and sweetness; its pomps were become a reproach.?Remorse was eating his heart out. ?He said, "Would God I were free ofmy captivity!"
He had unconsciously dropped back into the phraseology of
the first daysof his compulsory greatness.
The shining pageant still went winding like a radiant and interminableserpent down the crooked lanes of the quaint old city, and through thehuzzaing 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 theexplosion; but there was no response from the King. ?He heard it only asone hears the thunder of the surf when it is blown to the ear out of agreat distance, for it was smothered under another sound which was stillnearer, in his own breast, in his accusing conscience--a voice whichkept repeating those shameful words, "I do not know you, woman!"
The words smote upon the King's soul as the strokes of a funeral bellsmite upon the soul of a surviving friend when they remind him of secrettreacheries suffered at his hands by him that is gone.
New glories were unfolded at every turning; new wonders, new marvels,sprang into view; the pent clamours of waiting batteries were released;new raptures poured from the throats of the waiting multitudes: ?but theKing gave no sign, and the accusing voice that went moaning through hiscomfortless 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: ?anabatement in the volume of the applause was observable too. ?The LordProtector was quick to notice these things: ?he was as quick to detectthe 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 thydowncast head, thy clouded mien, and they take it for an omen. ?Beadvised: ?unveil the sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these bodingvapours, and disperse them. ?Lift up thy face, and smile upon thepeople."
So saying, the Duke scattered a handful of coins to right and left, thenretired to his place. ?The mock King did mechanically as he had beenbidden. ?His smile had no heart in it, but few eyes were near enoughor sharp enough to detect that. ?The noddings of his plumed head as hesaluted his subjects were full of grace and graciousness; the largesswhich he delivered from his hand was royally liberal: ?so the people'sanxiety vanished, and the acclamations burst forth again in as mighty avolume as before.
Still once more, a little before the progress was ended, the Duke wasobliged to ride forward, and make remonstrance. ?He whispered--
"O dread sovereign! shake off these fatal humours; the eyes of the worldare upon thee." ?Then he added with sharp annoyance, "Perdition catchthat crazy pauper! 'twas she that hath disturbed your Highness."
The gorgeous figure turned a lustreless eye upon the Duke, and said in adead voice--
"She was my mother!"
"My God!" groaned the Protector as he reined his horse backward to hispost, "the omen was pregnant with prophecy. ?He is gone mad again!"
