Chapter XXX. Tom's progress.

by Mark Twain

　　Whilst the true King wandered about the land poorly clad, poorlyfed, cuffed and derided by tramps one while, herding with thievesand murderers in a jail another, and called idiot and impostor byall impartially, the mock King Tom Canty enjoyed quite a differentexperience.When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning to have a brightside for him. This bright side went on brightening more and moreevery day: in a very little while it was become almost allsunshine and delightfulness. He lost his fears; his misgivingsfaded out and died; his embarrassments departed, and gave place toan easy and confident bearing. He worked the whipping-boy mine toever-increasing profit.He ordered my Lady Elizabeth and my Lady Jane Grey into hispresence when he wanted to play or talk, and dismissed them whenhe was done with them, with the air of one familiarly accustomedto such performances. It no longer confused him to have theselofty personages kiss his hand at parting.He came to enjoy being conducted to bed in state at night, anddressed with intricate and solemn ceremony in the morning. Itcame to be a proud pleasure to march to dinner attended by aglittering 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 soundingdown the long corridors, and the distant voices responding, "Wayfor the King!"He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state in council, andseeming 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 fromillustrious monarchs who called him brother. O happy Tom Canty,late of Offal Court!He enjoyed his splendid clothes, and ordered more: he found hisfour hundred servants too few for his proper grandeur, and trebledthem. The adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet musicto his ears. He remained kind and gentle, and a sturdy anddetermined champion of all that were oppressed, and he madetireless war upon unjust laws: yet upon occasion, being offended,he could turn upon an earl, or even a duke, and give him a lookthat would make him tremble. Once, when his royal 'sister,' thegrimly holy Lady Mary, set herself to reason with him against thewisdom of his course in pardoning so many people who wouldotherwise be jailed, or hanged, or burned, and reminded him thattheir august late father's prisons had sometimes contained as highas sixty thousand convicts at one time, and that during hisadmirable reign he had delivered seventy-two thousand thieves androbbers over to death by the executioner, {9} the boy was filledwith generous indignation, and commanded her to go to her closet,and beseech God to take away the stone that was in her breast, andgive her a human heart.Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the poor little rightfulprince who had treated him so kindly, and flown out with such hotzeal to avenge him upon the insolent sentinel at the palace-gate?Yes; his first royal days and nights were pretty well sprinkledwith painful thoughts about the lost prince, and with sincerelongings for his return, and happy restoration to his nativerights and splendours. But as time wore on, and the prince didnot come, Tom's mind became more and more occupied with his newand enchanting experiences, and by little and little the vanishedmonarch faded almost out of his thoughts; and finally, when he didintrude upon them at intervals, he was become an unwelcomespectre, for he made Tom feel guilty and ashamed.Tom's poor mother and sisters travelled the same road out of hismind. At first he pined for them, sorrowed for them, longed tosee them, but later, the thought of their coming some day in theirrags and dirt, and betraying him with their kisses, and pullinghim down from his lofty place, and dragging him back to penury anddegradation and the slums, made him shudder. At last they ceasedto trouble his thoughts almost wholly. And he was content, evenglad: for, whenever their mournful and accusing faces did risebefore him now, they made him feel more despicable than the wormsthat crawl.At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty was sinking tosleep in his rich bed in the palace, guarded by his loyal vassals,and surrounded by the pomps of royalty, a happy boy; for tomorrowwas 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 andshreds--his share of the results of the riot--was wedged in amonga crowd of people who were watching with deep interest certainhurrying gangs of workmen who streamed in and out of WestminsterAbbey, busy as ants: they were making the last preparation forthe royal coronation.