Chapter XI. At Guildhall.

by Mark Twain

　　The royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet, took its statelyway down the Thames through the wilderness of illuminated boats.The air was laden with music; the river banks were beruffled withjoy-flames; the distant city lay in a soft luminous glow from itscountless invisible bonfires; above it rose many a slender spireinto the sky, incrusted with sparkling lights, wherefore in theirremoteness they seemed like jewelled lances thrust aloft; as thefleet swept along, it was greeted from the banks with a continuoushoarse roar of cheers and the ceaseless flash and boom ofartillery.To Tom Canty, half buried in his silken cushions, these sounds andthis spectacle were a wonder unspeakably sublime and astonishing.To his little friends at his side, the Princess Elizabeth and theLady Jane Grey, they were nothing.Arrived at the Dowgate, the fleet was towed up the limpid Walbrook(whose channel has now been for two centuries buried out of sightunder acres of buildings) to Bucklersbury, past houses and underbridges populous with merry-makers and brilliantly lighted, and atlast came to a halt in a basin where now is Barge Yard, in thecentre of the ancient city of London. Tom disembarked, and he andhis gallant procession crossed Cheapside and made a short marchthrough the Old Jewry and Basinghall Street to the Guildhall.Tom and his little ladies were received with due ceremony by theLord Mayor and the Fathers of the City, in their gold chains andscarlet robes of state, and conducted to a rich canopy of state atthe head of the great hall, preceded by heralds makingproclamation, and by the Mace and the City Sword. The lords andladies who were to attend upon Tom and his two small friends tooktheir places behind their chairs.At a lower table the Court grandees and other guests of nobledegree were seated, with the magnates of the city; the commonerstook places at a multitude of tables on the main floor of thehall. From their lofty vantage-ground the giants Gog and Magog,the ancient guardians of the city, contemplated the spectaclebelow them with eyes grown familiar to it in forgottengenerations. There was a bugle-blast and a proclamation, and afat butler appeared in a high perch in the leftward wall, followedby his servitors bearing with impressive solemnity a royal baronof beef, smoking hot and ready for the knife.After grace, Tom (being instructed) rose--and the whole house withhim--and drank from a portly golden loving-cup with the PrincessElizabeth; from her it passed to the Lady Jane, and then traversedthe general assemblage. So the banquet began.By midnight the revelry was at its height. Now came one of thosepicturesque spectacles so admired in that old day. A descriptionof it is still extant in the quaint wording of a chronicler whowitnessed it:'Space being made, presently entered a baron and an earl appareledafter the Turkish fashion in long robes of bawdkin powdered withgold; hats on their heads of crimson velvet, with great rolls ofgold, girded with two swords, called scimitars, hanging by greatbawdricks of gold. Next came yet another baron and another earl,in two long gowns of yellow satin, traversed with white satin, andin every bend of white was a bend of crimson satin, after thefashion of Russia, with furred hats of gray on their heads; eitherof them having an hatchet in their hands, and boots with pykes'(points a foot long), 'turned up. And after them came a knight,then the Lord High Admiral, and with him five nobles, in doubletsof crimson velvet, voyded low on the back and before to thecannell-bone, laced on the breasts with chains of silver; and overthat, short cloaks of crimson satin, and on their heads hats afterthe dancers' fashion, with pheasants' feathers in them. Thesewere appareled after the fashion of Prussia. The torchbearers,which were about an hundred, were appareled in crimson satin andgreen, like Moors, their faces black. Next came in a mommarye.Then the minstrels, which were disguised, danced; and the lordsand ladies did wildly dance also, that it was a pleasure tobehold.'And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon this 'wild'dancing, lost in admiration of the dazzling commingling ofkaleidoscopic colours which the whirling turmoil of gaudy figuresbelow him presented, the ragged but real little Prince of Waleswas proclaiming his rights and his wrongs, denouncing theimpostor, and clamouring for admission at the gates of Guildhall!The crowd enjoyed this episode prodigiously, and pressed forwardand craned their necks to see the small rioter. Presently theybegan to taunt him and mock at him, purposely to goad him into ahigher and still more entertaining fury. Tears of mortificationsprang to his eyes, but he stood his ground and defied the mobright royally. Other taunts followed, added mockings stung him,and he exclaimed--"I tell ye again, you pack of unmannerly curs, I am the Prince ofWales! And all forlorn and friendless as I be, with none to giveme word of grace or help me in my need, yet will not I be drivenfrom my ground, but will maintain it!""Though thou be prince or no prince, 'tis all one, thou be'st agallant lad, and not friendless neither! Here stand I by thy sideto prove it; and mind I tell thee thou might'st have a worserfriend than Miles Hendon and yet not tire thy legs with seeking.Rest thy small jaw, my child; I talk the language of these basekennel-rats like to a very native."The speaker was a sort of Don Caesar de Bazan in dress, aspect,and bearing. He was tall, trim-built, muscular. His doublet andtrunks were of rich material, but faded and threadbare, and theirgold-lace adornments were sadly tarnished; his ruff was rumpledand damaged; the plume in his slouched hat was broken and had abedraggled and disreputable look; at his side he wore a longrapier in a rusty iron sheath; his swaggering carriage marked himat once as a ruffler of the camp. The speech of this fantasticfigure was received with an explosion of jeers and laughter. Somecried, "'Tis another prince in disguise!" "'Ware thy tongue,friend: belike he is dangerous!" "Marry, he looketh it--mark hiseye!" "Pluck the lad from him--to the horse-pond wi' the cub!"Instantly a hand was laid upon the Prince, under the impulse ofthis happy thought; as instantly the stranger's long sword was outand the meddler went to the earth under a sounding thump with theflat of it. The next moment a score of voices shouted, "Kill thedog! Kill him! Kill him!" and the mob closed in on the warrior,who backed himself against a wall and began to lay about him withhis long weapon like a madman. His victims sprawled this way andthat, but the mob-tide poured over their prostrate forms anddashed itself against the champion with undiminished fury. Hismoments seemed numbered, his destruction certain, when suddenly atrumpet-blast sounded, a voice shouted, "Way for the King'smessenger!" and a troop of horsemen came charging down upon themob, who fled out of harm's reach as fast as their legs couldcarry them. The bold stranger caught up the Prince in his arms,and was soon far away from danger and the multitude.Return we within the Guildhall. Suddenly, high above the jubilantroar and thunder of the revel, broke the clear peal of a bugle-note. There was instant silence--a deep hush; then a single voicerose--that of the messenger from the palace--and began to pipeforth a proclamation, the whole multitude standing listening.The closing words, solemnly pronounced, were--"The King is dead!"The great assemblage bent their heads upon their breasts with oneaccord; remained so, in profound silence, a few moments; then allsank upon their knees in a body, stretched out their hands towardTom, and a mighty shout burst forth that seemed to shake thebuilding--"Long live the King!"Poor Tom's dazed eyes wandered abroad over this stupefyingspectacle, and finally rested dreamily upon the kneelingprincesses beside him, a moment, then upon the Earl of Hertford.A sudden purpose dawned in his face. He said, in a low tone, atLord Hertford's ear--"Answer me truly, on thy faith and honour! Uttered I here acommand, the which none but a king might hold privilege andprerogative to utter, would such commandment be obeyed, and nonerise up to say me nay?""None, my liege, in all these realms. In thy person bides themajesty of England. Thou art the king--thy word is law."Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and with greatanimation--"Then shall the king's law be law of mercy, from this day, andnever more be law of blood! Up from thy knees and away! To theTower, and say the King decrees the Duke of Norfolk shall notdie!" {1}The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip farand wide over the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the presence,another prodigious shout burst forth--"The reign of blood is ended! Long live Edward, King of England!"