Seeing the royal memory so improved, the Earl ventured
to apply a few tests to it, in an apparently casual
way, to find out how far its amendment had progressed.
The results were happy, here and there, in spots—spots
where Humphrey’s tracks remained—and
on the whole my lord was greatly pleased and encouraged.
So encouraged was he, indeed, that he spoke up and
said in a quite hopeful voice—
“Now am I persuaded that if your Majesty will
but tax your memory yet a little further, it will
resolve the puzzle of the Great Seal—a loss
which was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day,
since its term of service ended with our late lord’s
life. May it please your Grace to make the trial?”
Tom was at sea—a Great Seal was something
which he was totally unacquainted with. After
a moment’s hesitation he looked up innocently
and asked—
“What was it like, my lord?”
The Earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering
to himself, “Alack, his wits are flown again!—it
was ill wisdom to lead him on to strain them”
—then he deftly turned the talk to other
matters, with the purpose of sweeping the unlucky
seal out of Tom’s thoughts—a purpose
which easily succeeded.
The next day the foreign ambassadors came, with their
gorgeous trains; and Tom, throned in awful state,
received them. The splendours of the scene delighted
his eye and fired his imagination at first, but the
audience was long and dreary, and so were most of the
addresses —wherefore, what began as a pleasure
grew into weariness and home-sickness by-and-by.
Tom said the words which Hertford put into his mouth
from time to time, and tried hard to acquit himself
satisfactorily, but he was too new to such things,
and too ill at ease to accomplish more than a tolerable
success. He looked sufficiently like a king,
but he was ill able to feel like one. He was
cordially glad when the ceremony was ended.
The larger part of his day was ’wasted’—as
he termed it, in his own mind—in labours
pertaining to his royal office. Even the two
hours devoted to certain princely pastimes and recreations
were rather a burden to him than otherwise, they were
so fettered by restrictions and ceremonious observances.
However, he had a private hour with his whipping-boy
which he counted clear gain, since he got both entertainment
and needful information out of it.
The third day of Tom Canty’s kingship came and
went much as the others had done, but there was a
lifting of his cloud in one way—he felt
less uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a
little used to his circumstances and surroundings;
his chains still galled, but not all the time; he
found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted
and embarrassed him less and less sharply with every
hour that drifted over his head.
