Thereupon the herald stopped, and immediately the whole band of trumpets blew a loud and courageous blast, stirring up every bosom. When this ceased, Garter advanced, and, at the top of his voice, cried out, “God save our noble King Edward!” upon which a tremendous shout rent the air. Many a fervent ejaculation was uttered for the young king’s prosperity; but some old folk who had the reputation of wisdom, shook their heads, and said, bodingly, in the language of Scripture, “Woe to the country whose king is a child!”
In the midst of these various expressions of sentiment, while some were full of joyful anticipations, and others, though very few in comparison with the rest, indulged in gloomy fore-bodings, while the lords, who had tarried for the proclamation, were moving away, and the heralds descending from the stage, a distant roar of ordnance was heard from the east, and a cry arose that the young king was going to the Tower; upon which the assemblage began to disperse, and a large portion moved off in the direction of the old fortress, such as could afford it taking boat at Westminster and going down the river to London Bridge, but the majority marching past the fair cross of Charing, erected by Edward I. to his queen, Eleanor, and along the Strand, to the City. Many of the lords entered the barges at the privy-stairs, near the palace, while others, anxious to make greater display, rode through the streets to the Tower, attended by large retinues of servants. The river was alive with craft of all sorts and sizes, from the stately and gilded barge, propelled by two ranks of rowers, to the small but crowded wherry. But it was below bridge, and near the Tower, that the greatest stir and excitement prevailed. Here the river was thronged, and much difficulty was experienced by the smaller barks either in remaining stationary or in approaching the landing-places. All the barges, balingers, pinnaces, caravels, and great ships moored off the Tower, many of which had painted and gilded masts, were decorated with flags and streamers. Amongst the larger vessels were the Mary Rose and the famous Harry Grace à Dieu, the latter standing out of the water like a castle, with two towers at the stern. No sooner did the ordnance of the fortress announce the approach of the young king, than all of these ships replied with their heavy guns, which they then carried on the upper deck only, the sides of the vessels not being pierced. By these discharges, the tall ships, Traitors’ Gate and the dominant White Tower itself, above which floated the royal standard, were shrouded in smoke.
Simultaneously with the proclamation of the new king at Westminster, a like announcement had been made by sound of trumpet in the City of London, under the authority of a sealed commission, by four heralds in their coats of arms—namely, Clarencieux, Carlisle, Windsor, and Chester—assisted by the lord mayor, the aldermen, and the sheriffs in their scarlet robes. Not a single dissentient voice was heard, but, on the contrary, the proclamation was received with immense cheering.
On the same day, about noon, the youthful prince, on whom the crown had devolved, set forth from the palace of Enfield for the Tower, accompanied by his two uncles, by his master of horse, and a large party of noblemen, knights, pensioners, esquires, and others, all very richly attired, and making an extremely gallant show. From his youth and beauty, Edward excited the admiration of all who beheld him. He was arrayed in a gown of cloth of silver, embroidered with damask gold, and wore a doublet of white velvet, wrought with Venice silver, garnished with rubies and diamonds. His velvet cap, with a white feather in it, was ornamented with a brooch of diamonds; his girdle was worked with Venice silver, and decked with precious stones and knots of pearls, and his buskins were of white velvet. His milk-white charger, a noble-looking but easy-paced animal, was caparisoned in crimson satin, embroidered with pearls and damask gold, and the bridle had wide reins of red leather. For his years, Edward rode remarkably well, maintaining his seat with much grace, and promising in time to become a consummate horseman, like his uncle Sir Thomas Seymour. By the young king’s express command, in contravention of the Earl of Hertford’s arrangements, his favorite uncle rode close behind him, and was not unfrequently called forward to his royal nephew’s side. Mounted on a fiery Arabian courser, black as jet, but whose movements he controlled apparently by his will, magnificently attired, as his wont, in embroidered velvet cassock and silken doublet, by the stateliness of his person and the haughtiness of his bearing, Seymour threw into shade all the other nobles composing the king’s train, and drew all eyes upon himself, after Edward had been gazed upon. Elated by his royal nephew’s notice, his breast swelled with secret aspirations, and he listened to the promptings of his towering and insane ambition. Whenever he encountered the stern looks of his brother, he replied by a glance of fierce defiance.