under the kindly tuition of the noble lady pocahontas learned the court manner of curtsying before the king, and how to manage the yards of train to her robe. she was never tired of fingering its glossy folds, but the stiff stays of the bodice were almost unbearable to the slender frame that knew no restraint but that of nature’s making. with indian stoicism, she set herself to endure civilization’s instruments of torture, so great was her desire to be in all things an english woman.
all the trepidation of a first appearance at court was felt by lady de la warre alone. pocahontas, daughter of powhatan, felt no fear in the presence of her equals.
on the day of presentation pocahontas, accompanied by lady de la warre and her attendants, entered a gaily decorated barge that was to bear them to the palace of the king. from the mouth of the gilded swan at the prow, streamers of red and blue swept upwards to the swelling sail emblazoned with the coat-of-arms of lord de la warre. under the dipping oars of179 the bargemen they sailed westward to whitehall at charing cross.
up its broad landing stairs, past the great entrance leading into the surrounding park, they came to a halt in a lofty antechamber reserved for the fair ladies who were to make their initial bow to royalty.
arriving late, they found the presence chamber already thrown open and filled by those whose titles allowed a near approach to the throne. regal duchesses, robed in velvets and satins as varied as the tints of the rainbow, glittering in jewels and coronets of golden strawberry leaves, together with ladies of lesser degree, ranged themselves in order of precedence on both sides of a red velvet pathway leading to the foot of the throne.
mingling with them were the knights of the bath, arrayed in robes of crimson taffeta lined with white sarcenet, holding in their hands “soft white hats, whose long curling white plumes tapped against their white boots.”
beside the massive throne, studded with diamonds, surrounded by sapphires, rubies and pearls, that glittered like the sun among the stars, stood francis bacon, lord chancellor of england. near him was abbot,180 archbishop of canterbury, clad in his episcopal robes.
a sudden hush fell over the assemblage. the king was entering. preceded by the attendants of his household, holding in their hands their wands of office, came james, leaning on the arm of the duke of buckingham, his latest favorite. the handsome face and magnificently attired person of the duke was in startling contrast to the soiled brown velvet dress, buttoned awry, of the monarch.
what a spectre of a king! rolling eyes, slobbering mouth, ricketty legs upholding a body padded until it resembled a swollen frog. not one trace of the fascinating beauty of his mother, mary, queen of scots, had descended to him.
to his left walked grave and stately prince charles, clothed in white velvet. then followed queen anne in blue velvet and ermine attended by her ladies-in-waiting.
when their majesties were seated and their attendants took up their positions behind them, maxwell, lord chamberlain, began to announce the names of those who were to bear the gaze of royalty.
titled beauties of england and scotland were alternately announced by the tactful181 maxwell, ever keeping in mind the ancient jealousy of the two nations. the king, out of the kindness of his heart, took especial notice of each one.
“the princess rebecca, daughter of powhatan, king of virginia!” cried maxwell in a loud voice.
up the velvet aisle came pocahontas with the gliding step of her savage ancestry. but gone was the wild careless grace of the wilderness. every inch a queen she moved. words expressive of admiration and wonder were whispered on every side.
her bosom and arms were covered in a flowing robe of yellow satin. upon its brocaded surface the fleur de lis of france cast lights and shadows, and its long pointed bodice was thickly sown with turquoise and pearls. above it rose a fluted ruff of mechlin lace. three crimson plumes were fastened by a diamond brooch among the raven locks of her hair.
she sank gracefully down at the foot of the throne.
“you are verra welcome to our court, princess,” said james. “mony a tale of your kindness to our colony have we heard. we expect you at the banquet to be given presently, where we shall have much to ask you about your kinsman.”
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the levee being over, king james and his queen led the way to the banqueting hall, followed by those invited to dine in the royal presence.
their majesties seated themselves upon chairs of state, chairs upholstered in orange silk. from a crown above them hung a purple canopy embroidered in roses, shamrocks, and thistles.
pocahontas was marshaled by the earl of pembroke to a low stool to the left of queen anne, and somewhat below the royal table raised upon a dais.
her uneasy eyes traveled down the long table in the middle of the hall, in search of her husband. he caught her look and smiled reassuringly. she breathed easily again. john was there, now she could enjoy to the full all the magnificence surrounding her.
behind a railing that ran around two sides of the room were a crowd of humble citizens, come to view their sovereign as he feasted. among them was adam, watching intently the honors paid to pocahontas.
“truly this is a queersome world. there sits a savage from the wilds feasting with the king, and poor adam clotworthy, a citizen of london, has to stand with the183 gaping crowd behind the railing. but she is a jewel, god bless her. adam has not fallen so low as to envy her good fortune.” something to this effect were the ruminations of adam as he leaned against a balustrade to enjoy the scene.
the walls of the hall were hung in tapestries of gold and purple silk garnished with pearls and amethysts. in a gallery opposite the chairs of state musicians were playing christmas ditties to aid the digestion of the courtly guests seated at the long table extending the entire length of the hall. movable buffets, holding gold and silver plate, stood near the king’s dais. his table was set with rich gold plate once the property of the house of burgundy. agate cups held sparkling wine from the vineyards of bordeaux. from the door leading to the buttery issued the lord chamberlain, followed by a host of servants bearing both delicate and substantial viands to tickle the palates of the diners.
“my lord of suffolk, fill the cup given us by the constable of castile and present it to the princess rebecca. we drink her health,” said james.
filling a dragon-shaped goblet of crystal and gold with sparkling wine, the lord of suffolk presented it to pocahontas, who184 drank in acknowledgment of the good-natured monarch’s toast.
leaning across his queen, james said to pocahontas, “your royal father hath used the scalping-knife somewhat freely upon our liege subjects, we have heard.”
“powhatan worships okee. he bends not the knee to the royal christ. when warriors offend, he kills. therefore he is feared, not loved,” she answered, sadly, unconscious of the irony of her reply.
“she has you there, cousin,” laughed the jester, archie armstrong, shaking his hooded head until the bells jangled. “according to our copper-colored relative, a christian prince should not deprive his loving subjects of breath whereby they may abuse him. therefore, your reign has been a failure, as many heads on london bridge can testify. shut up the tower—banish the hangman—give yourself over to hawking, and place the reins of government in my hands.”
“ay, and a likely time they wad have of it, i warrant, you auld rattlepated loon!” retorted the king.
the boar’s head has been consumed; the jeweled fan of the peacock trails low in the dust; huge pastries washed down by the flowing bowl; tables are cleared away,185 pages run hither and thither carrying silver basins in which the guests lave their hands and dry them upon linen towels from the looms of belfast. the king is now ready to be amused.
lords and ladies take their places for the ancient sword dance, and glide to the stirring measures of the minstrels. back and forth tread the gay participants in the stately dance. now the lovely maidens form in a flowery line and pass under the arch of clashing swords of the cavaliers.
“by my saul, a braw sight, if ’twere not for the glittering steel,” exclaimed james, turning away his shrinking gaze from the uplifted swords. “now my bonnie lads and lassies, let us to the cards. come, my lord chamberlain, and you my lord suffolk, your loving father will try his luck at primero with you.”
catching hold of a page flitting by, he said, “go yonder to sir walter raleigh, and say that the king desires his company.” then turning to the two lords continued, “we will celebrate his liberation from our not too hospitable tower.”
rattling dice, clinking glasses, merry music, laughter and jest closed the memorable day of pocahontas’s presentation at court.
