Chapter XXXII. Coronation Day.

by Mark Twain

　　Let us go backward a few hours, and place ourselves in WestminsterAbbey, at four o'clock in the morning of this memorable CoronationDay. We are not without company; for although it is still night,we find the torch-lighted galleries already filling up with peoplewho are well content to sit still and wait seven or eight hourstill the time shall come for them to see what they may not hope tosee twice in their lives--the coronation of a King. Yes, Londonand Westminster have been astir ever since the warning guns boomedat three o'clock, and already crowds of untitled rich folk whohave bought the privilege of trying to find sitting-room in thegalleries are flocking in at the entrances reserved for theirsort.The hours drag along tediously enough. All stir has ceased forsome time, for every gallery has long ago been packed. We maysit, now, and look and think at our leisure. We have glimpses,here and there and yonder, through the dim cathedral twilight, ofportions of many galleries and balconies, wedged full with otherpeople, the other portions of these galleries and balconies beingcut off from sight by intervening pillars and architecturalprojections. We have in view the whole of the great northtransept--empty, and waiting for England's privileged ones. Wesee also the ample area or platform, carpeted with rich stuffs,whereon the throne stands. The throne occupies the centre of theplatform, and is raised above it upon an elevation of four steps.Within the seat of the throne is enclosed a rough flat rock--thestone of Scone--which many generations of Scottish kings sat on tobe crowned, and so it in time became holy enough to answer a likepurpose for English monarchs. Both the throne and its footstoolare 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 areextinguished, and a mellow radiance suffuses the great spaces.All features of the noble building are distinct now, but soft anddreamy, 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 thetransept, clothed like Solomon for splendour, and is conducted toher 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 trainacross her lap for her. He then places her footstool according toher desire, after which he puts her coronet where it will beconvenient to her hand when the time for the simultaneouscoroneting of the nobles shall arrive.By this time the peeresses are flowing in in a glittering stream,and the satin-clad officials are flitting and glinting everywhere,seating them and making them comfortable. The scene is animatedenough now. There is stir and life, and shifting coloureverywhere. After a time, quiet reigns again; for the peeressesare all come and are all in their places, a solid acre or such amatter, of human flowers, resplendent in variegated colours, andfrosted 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 crowningof Richard III. and the troublous days of that old forgotten age;and there are handsome middle-aged dames; and lovely and graciousyoung matrons; and gentle and beautiful young girls, with beamingeyes and fresh complexions, who may possibly put on their jewelledcoronets awkwardly when the great time comes; for the matter willbe new to them, and their excitement will be a sore hindrance.Still, this may not happen, for the hair of all these ladies hasbeen arranged with a special view to the swift and successfullodging of the crown in its place when the signal comes.We have seen that this massed array of peeresses is sown thickwith diamonds, and we also see that it is a marvellous spectacle--but now we are about to be astonished in earnest. About nine, theclouds suddenly break away and a shaft of sunshine cleaves themellow atmosphere, and drifts slowly along the ranks of ladies;and every rank it touches flames into a dazzling splendour ofmany-coloured fires, and we tingle to our finger-tips with theelectric thrill that is shot through us by the surprise and thebeauty of the spectacle! Presently a special envoy from somedistant corner of the Orient, marching with the general body offoreign ambassadors, crosses this bar of sunshine, and we catchour breath, the glory that streams and flashes and palpitatesabout him is so overpowering; for he is crusted from head to heelwith gems, and his slightest movement showers a dancing radianceall 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 boomingof artillery told that the King and his grand procession hadarrived at last; so the waiting multitude rejoiced. All knew thata further delay must follow, for the King must be prepared androbed for the solemn ceremony; but this delay would be pleasantlyoccupied by the assembling of the peers of the realm in theirstately robes. These were conducted ceremoniously to their seats,and their coronets placed conveniently at hand; and meanwhile themultitude in the galleries were alive with interest, for most ofthem were beholding for the first time, dukes, earls, and barons,whose names had been historical for five hundred years. When allwere finally seated, the spectacle from the galleries and allcoigns of vantage was complete; a gorgeous one to look upon and toremember.Now the robed and mitred great heads of the church, and theirattendants, filed in upon the platform and took their appointedplaces; these were followed by the Lord Protector and other greatofficials, and these again by a steel-clad detachment of theGuard.There was a waiting pause; then, at a signal, a triumphant peal ofmusic burst forth, and Tom Canty, clothed in a long robe of clothof gold, appeared at a door, and stepped upon the platform. Theentire 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 thethrone. The ancient ceremonies went on, with impressivesolemnity, whilst the audience gazed; and as they drew nearer andnearer to completion, Tom Canty grew pale, and still paler, and adeep and steadily deepening woe and despondency settled down uponhis spirits and upon his remorseful heart.At last the final act was at hand. The Archbishop of Canterburylifted up the crown of England from its cushion and held it outover the trembling mock-King's head. In the same instant arainbow-radiance flashed along the spacious transept; for with oneimpulse every individual in the great concourse of nobles lifted acoronet and poised it over his or her head--and paused in thatattitude.A deep hush pervaded the Abbey. At this impressive moment, astartling apparition intruded upon the scene--an apparitionobserved by none in the absorbed multitude, until it suddenlyappeared, moving up the great central aisle. It was a boy,bareheaded, ill shod, and clothed in coarse plebeian garments thatwere falling to rags. He raised his hand with a solemnity whichill comported with his soiled and sorry aspect, and delivered thisnote of warning--"I forbid you to set the crown of England upon that forfeitedhead. I am the King!"In an instant several indignant hands were laid upon the boy; butin the same instant Tom Canty, in his regal vestments, made aswift 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 theypartly rose in their places and stared in a bewildered way at oneanother and at the chief figures in this scene, like persons whowondered whether they were awake and in their senses, or asleepand dreaming. The Lord Protector was as amazed as the rest, butquickly recovered himself, and exclaimed in a voice of authority--"Mind not his Majesty, his malady is upon him again--seize thevagabond!"He would have been obeyed, but the mock-King stamped his foot andcried out--"On your peril! Touch him not, he is the King!"The hands were withheld; a paralysis fell upon the house; no onemoved, no one spoke; indeed, no one knew how to act or what tosay, in so strange and surprising an emergency. While all mindswere struggling to right themselves, the boy still moved steadilyforward, with high port and confident mien; he had never haltedfrom the beginning; and while the tangled minds still flounderedhelplessly, he stepped upon the platform, and the mock-King ranwith a glad face to meet him; and fell on his knees before him andsaid--"Oh, my lord the King, let poor Tom Canty be first to swear fealtyto thee, and say, 'Put on thy crown and enter into thine ownagain!'"The Lord Protector's eye fell sternly upon the new-comer's face;but straightway the sternness vanished away, and gave place to anexpression of wondering surprise. This thing happened also to theother great officers. They glanced at each other, and retreated astep by a common and unconscious impulse. The thought in eachmind was the same: "What a strange resemblance!"The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in perplexity, thenhe said, with grave respectfulness--"By your favour, 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 andwithout hesitating. He described the rooms of state in thepalace, the late King's apartments, and those of the Prince ofWales.It was strange; it was wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable--soall said that heard it. The tide was beginning to turn, and TomCanty's hopes to run high, when the Lord Protector shook his headand said--"It is true it is most wonderful--but it is no more than our lordthe King likewise can do." This remark, and this reference tohimself as still the King, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt hishopes crumbling from under him. "These are not proofs," added theProtector.The tide was turning very fast now, very fast indeed--but in thewrong direction; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on thethrone, and sweeping the other out to sea. The Lord Protectorcommuned with himself--shook his head--the thought forced itselfupon him, "It is perilous to the State and to us all, to entertainso fateful a riddle as this; it could divide the nation andundermine the throne." He turned and said--"Sir Thomas, arrest this--No, hold!" His face lighted, and heconfronted the ragged candidate with this question--"Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this truly, and the riddleis 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 soconsidered by the great officials was manifested by the silentapplause that shot from eye to eye around their circle in the formof bright approving glances. Yes, none but the true prince coulddissolve the stubborn mystery of the vanished Great Seal--thisforlorn little impostor had been taught his lesson well, but herehis teachings must fail, for his teacher himself could not answerthat question--ah, very good, very good indeed; now we shall berid of this troublesome and perilous business in short order! Andso they nodded invisibly and smiled inwardly with satisfaction,and looked to see this foolish lad stricken with a palsy of guiltyconfusion. How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of thesort happen--how they marvelled to hear him answer up promptly, ina confident and untroubled voice, and say--"There is nought in this riddle that is difficult." Then, withoutso much as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave thiscommand, with the easy manner of one accustomed to doing suchthings: "My Lord St. John, go you to my private cabinet in thepalace--for none knoweth the place better than you--and, closedown to the floor, in the left corner remotest from the door thatopens from the ante-chamber, you shall find in the wall a brazennail-head; press upon it and a little jewel-closet will fly openwhich not even you do know of--no, nor any sould else in all theworld but me and the trusty artisan that did contrive it for me.The first thing that falleth under your eye will be the GreatSeal--fetch it hither."All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still moreto see the little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancyor apparent fear of mistake, and call him by name with such aplacidly convincing air of having known him all his life. Thepeer was almost surprised into obeying. He even made a movementas if to go, but quickly recovered his tranquil attitude andconfessed his blunder with a blush. Tom Canty turned upon him andsaid, 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 thatit was a significantly cautious and non-committal one, it notbeing delivered at either of the kings, but at the neutral groundabout half-way between the two--and took his leave.Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that officialgroup which was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady andpersistent--a movement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope thatis turned slowly, whereby the components of one splendid clusterfall away and join themselves to another--a movement which, littleby little, in the present case, dissolved the glittering crowdthat stood about Tom Canty and clustered it together again in theneighbourhood of the new-comer. Tom Canty stood almost alone.Now ensued a brief season of deep suspense and waiting--duringwhich even the few faint hearts still remaining near Tom Cantygradually scraped together courage enough to glide, one by one,over to the majority. So at last Tom Canty, in his royal robesand jewels, stood wholly alone and isolated from the world, aconspicuous figure, occupying an eloquent vacancy.Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As he advanced up themid-aisle the interest was so intense that the low murmur ofconversation in the great assemblage died out and was succeeded bya profound hush, a breathless stillness, through which hisfootfalls pulsed with a dull and distant sound. Every eye wasfastened upon him as he moved along. He reached the platform,paused a moment, then moved toward Tom Canty with a deepobeisance, and said--"Sire, the Seal is not there!"A mob does not melt away from the presence of a plague-patientwith more haste than the band of pallid and terrified courtiersmelted away from the presence of the shabby little claimant of theCrown. In a moment he stood all alone, without friend orsupporter, a target upon which was concentrated a bitter fire ofscornful and angry looks. The Lord Protector called out fiercely--"Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him through thetown--the paltry knave is worth no more consideration!"Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but Tom Canty wavedthem off and said--"Back! Whoso touches him perils his life!"The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last degree. He said tothe Lord St. John--"Searched you well?--but it boots not to ask that. It doth seempassing strange. Little things, trifles, slip out of one's ken,and one does not think it matter for surprise; but how so bulky athing as the Seal of England can vanish away and no man be able toget 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 itletters and devices graved upon it?--yes? Oh, now I know whatthis 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 weeksago. Right well I know where it lies; but it was not I that putit there--first.""Who, then, my liege?" asked the Lord Protector."He that stands there--the rightful King of England. And he shalltell you himself where it lies--then you will believe he knew itof his own knowledge. Bethink thee, my King--spur thy memory--itwas the last, the very last thing thou didst that day before thoudidst rush forth from the palace, clothed in my rags, to punishthe soldier that insulted me."A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or a whisper, and alleyes were fixed upon the new-comer, who stood, with bent head andcorrugated brow, groping in his memory among a thronging multitudeof valueless recollections for one single little elusive fact,which, found, would seat him upon a throne--unfound, would leavehim as he was, for good and all--a pauper and an outcast. Momentafter moment passed--the moments built themselves into minutes--still the boy struggled silently on, and gave no sign. But atlast he heaved a sigh, shook his head slowly, and said, with atrembling lip and in a despondent voice--"I call the scene back--all of it--but the Seal hath no place init." He paused, then looked up, and said with gentle dignity, "Mylords and gentlemen, if ye will rob your rightful sovereign of hisown for lack of this evidence which he is not able to furnish, Imay not stay ye, being powerless. But--""Oh, folly, oh, madness, my King!" cried Tom Canty, in a panic,"waitthe cause is not lost! Nor shallbe, neither! List to what I say--follow every word--I am going tobring that morning back again, every hap just as it happened. Wetalked--I told you of my sisters, Nan and Bet--ah, yes, youremember that; and about mine old grandam--and the rough games ofthe lads of Offal Court--yes, you remember these things also; verywell, follow me still, you shall recall everything. You gave mefood and drink, and did with princely courtesy send away theservants, 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 headin recognition of them, the great audience and the officialsstared in puzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history,yet how could this impossible conjunction between a prince and abeggar-boy have come about? Never was a company of people soperplexed, so interested, and so stupefied, before."For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments. Then we stoodbefore a mirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed asif there had been no change made--yes, you remember that. Thenyou noticed that the soldier had hurt my hand--look! here it is, Icannot yet even write with it, the fingers are so stiff. At thisyour Highness sprang up, vowing vengeance upon that soldier, andran towards the door--you passed a table--that thing you call theSeal lay on that table--you snatched it up and looked eagerlyabout, as if for a place to hide it--your eye caught sight of--""There, 'tis sufficient!--and the good God be thanked!" exclaimedthe ragged claimant, in a mighty excitement. "Go, my good St.John--in an arm-piece of the Milanese armour that hangs on thewall, thou'lt find the Seal!""Right, my King! right!" cried Tom Canty; "Now the sceptre ofEngland is thine own; and it were better for him that woulddispute it that he had been born dumb! Go, my Lord St. John, givethy feet wings!"The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of itsmind with uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement. Onthe floor and on the platform a deafening buzz of franticconversation burst forth, and for some time nobody knew anythingor heard anything or was interested in anything but what hisneighbour was shouting into his ear, or he was shouting into hisneighbour's ear. Time--nobody knew how much of it--swept byunheeded and unnoted. At last a sudden hush fell upon the house,and in the same moment St. John appeared upon the platform, andheld 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 ofmusical instruments, and was white with a storm of wavinghandkerchiefs; and through it all a ragged lad, the mostconspicuous figure in England, stood, flushed and happy and proud,in the centre of the spacious platform, with the great vassals ofthe kingdom kneeling around him.Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out--"Now, O my King, take these regal garments back, and give poorTom, 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, mygood uncle, my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is notgrateful toward this poor lad, for I hear he hath made thee aduke"--the Protector blushed--"yet he was not a king; whereforewhat is thy fine title worth now? To-morrow you shall sue to me,through him, for its confirmation, else no duke, but a simpleearl, shalt thou remain."Under this rebuke, his Grace the Duke of Somerset retired a littlefrom the front for the moment. The King turned to Tom, and saidkindly--"My poor boy, how was it that you could remember where Ihid 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 describeit, your Majesty.""Then how used you it?"The red blood began to steal up into Tom's cheeks, and he droppedhis eyes and was silent."Speak up, good lad, and fear nothing," said the King. "How usedyou 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 nearlyswept him off his feet. But if a doubt remained in any mind thatTom Canty was not the King of England and familiar with the augustappurtenances of royalty, this reply disposed of it utterly.Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been removed from Tom'sshoulders to the King's, whose rags were effectually hidden fromsight under it. Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed; thetrue King was anointed and the crown set upon his head, whilstcannon thundered the news to the city, and all London seemed torock with applause.