The Constable of the Tower by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Apparently wholly unconscious of the great interest he excited, Cranmer looked exceedingly grave, as if deeply impressed with the solemn nature of the ceremony on which he was engaged.

Having formed themselves into a procession, the various ecclesiastics marched forth from the great door opening upon the body of the fane for the purpose of conducting the king to the abbey. From this door, cloth of raye was laid down to the principal entrance of the palace. This privileged path was railed, and lined on either side by archers and halberdiers. Marshals, standard-bearers, and other officers were ranged at short distances from each other along the lines.

The spectacle was magnificent. A bright, sunshiny morning exhilarated the vast multitude collected around the abbey and within the courts of the palace, and kept them all in good humor. Not a single untoward circumstance occurred to disturb the general harmony.

Meanwhile the Archbishop of Canterbury, with the prelates and their train, had entered the palace, and every eye was fixed on the grand portal, the steps of which were lined by ushers and officers of the royal household.

At length, loud flourishes of trumpets announced the king’s approach. First came forth the trumpeters in their embroidered coats, having their clarions adorned with silken pennons. Next followed the heralds in their coats of arms. Then came the pursuivants with their maces, and a little after them marched Xit, staggering under the weight of a silver mace larger than himself, and causing much diversion by his efforts to carry it. Next came Og, Gog, and Magog, followed by nine other tall yeomen of the guard, whom the giants over-topped by a head. Then followed the children of the king’s chapel, the choir, the chaplains, the bearers of the crosses, the ten bishops, and lastly, the dignified and venerable-looking Cranmer.

Again, loud flourishes resounded, and following another band of trumpeters, apparelled like the first, came the Earl of Northampton, in a rich robe, bareheaded, and carrying a pair of gilt spurs—as a symbol of knighthood. After him came the Earl of Arundel, equally splendidly arrayed, holding a bare and pointless sword—signifying mercy. Next came the Earl of Dorset, bearing the constable’s mace. A second sword, sharpened at the point, to signify justice to the temporalty, was borne by the Earl of Warwick. A third sword, likewise pointed, and denoting justice to the clergy, was borne by the Earl of Derby. Then followed the Earl of Oxford with the sceptre, to signify peace. Then came Shrewsbury, bearing the ball and cross, signifying monarchy. Then came Lord Seymour of Sudley, magnificently attired, bearing the sword of state in its scabbard. Then followed Barons Rich, Sheffield, and Willoughby, marching together. After them came Garter King at Arms, in his rich coat, with the lord mayor on his left, carrying a mace, and the Constable of the Tower on his right. Then came the lord chancellor, the lord treasurer, and the lord privy seal, in their full robes. Then followed the lord protector, carrying the crown of Saint Edward on a crimson velvet cushion. All these noble personages were bareheaded.

The crowd had looked on with wonder and delight, and had loudly expressed their admiration of the lord high admiral’s splendid appearance, but a tremendous shout rent the air as the young king now came forth beneath his canopy borne by four barons of the Cinque Ports. He was apparelled in a robe of purple velvet, deeply bordered with ermine, and his train was borne by six pages in white satin. As Edward marched on towards the abbey, smiling to the right and left in reply to the cheers with which he was greeted, it required the halberdiers to stand firm in order to resist the pressure of the crowd.

The trumpet-blasts and the tremendous cheering had apprised those within the abbey that the king was at hand, and all were on the tiptoe of expectation; but before describing the entrance of the procession, let us cast a hasty glance around the magnificent building. Magnificent, in sooth, it looked on this occasion. A spectacle of extraordinary splendor and beauty burst upon the beholder as he passed through the great doorway and looked towards the choir. With the exception of the railed and carpeted space in the centre of the pavement, the whole body of the pile was thronged with spectators, clad in the variegated and picturesque costumes of the period. Robes, cloaks, and doublets there were of cloth, silk, velvet, and other stuffs, of as many hues as the rainbow. Additional depth of dye was imparted to these many-colored garments from the light streaming down upon them from the richly-painted windows. Amidst the closely-packed crowd rose the tall grey pillars lining the aisles, decked with banners and escutcheons, as before described. The effect of the choir was marvellous. The doors were left wide open, so that the splendid estrade, on which the ceremony was to be performed, could be seen from all points. Nave, aisles, and galleries were thronged; so were the transepts on either side of the choir, so were the ambulatories adjoining the chapel of Saint Edmund the Confessor; so were many other places which could by no possibility command a view of the solemnity. In Saint Edmund’s Chapel, which communicated with the choir by two doorways near the altar, were congregated the nobles about to do homage to the king. Even Henry the Seventh’s Chapel was filled by those who had been unable to obtain accommodation elsewhere.