The Panchronicon

by Harold Steele MacKaye

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE FATE OF SIR PERCEVALL'S SUIT

  In the inner chamber, Elizabeth was seated at a small table, at theopposite end of which sat Rebecca. Burleigh, Nottingham, and two orthree other great lords stood near at hand, while one dish after anotherwas brought in from the outer room by maids of honor.

  Standing to the right of the Queen's chair was a dark man of foreignaspect, wearing the robes of a Doctor of Laws. In his hand was Rebecca'scopy of the New York _World_, which he was perusing with an expressionof the utmost perplexity.

  "Well, Master Guido," said the Queen, "what make you of it?"

  "Maesta eccellentissima--" the scholar began.

  "Nay--nay. Speak good plain English, man," said the Queen. "The LadyRebecca hath no Italian."

  Messer Guido bowed and began again, speaking with a scarcely perceptibleaccent.

  "Most Excellent Majesty, I have but begun perusal of this document. Itpromiseth matter for ten good years' research in the comparison ofparts, interpretation of phrases, identifying customs, manners, dress,and the like."

  "Nay, then," said the Queen, "with the help of the Lady Rebecca, 'twillbe no weighty task, methinks. My lady, why partake you not of thepasty?" she said, turning to Rebecca. "Hath it not a very proper savor?"

  "My, yes," Rebecca replied; "it's mighty good pie! Somehow, though, piedon't lay very good with me these days. Ye don't happen to have any tea,do ye?"

  "Tea!"

  "If I may venture--" said Guido, eagerly.

  "Speak, Messer Guido."

  "Why, it would appear, your Majesty, that tea is a sort of stuff fordresses--silk, belike."

  "Stuff for dresses!" said Rebecca. "Stuff and nonsense! Why, tea's adrink!"

  "A beverage! Then how explain you this?" the Italian cried,triumphantly. Lifting the newspaper, he read from it the followingpassage: "The illustration shows a charming tea-gown, a creation of Mme.Decollete."

  "You see, Maesta--your Majesty--it is clear. A 'tea-gown' is shown inthe drawing--a gown made of tea."

  Rebecca had opened her mouth to overwhelm the poor savant with the truthwhen a page entered and stood before the Queen.

  "Well, sirrah," said Elizabeth, "what is your message?"

  "Sir Percevall Hart craves an audience, your Majesty, for himself andhis American friend and client."

  "Another American!" exclaimed the Queen.

  "Copernicus Droop!" cried Rebecca.

  "Know you Sir Percevall's friend, Lady Rebecca?" asked Elizabeth.

  "Why, yes, your Majesty. He and I came over together from Peltonville. Ibelieve he's after a patent."

  "A patent? What mean you? Doth he ask for a patent of nobility--a title?Can this be the suit of the fat knight?"

  "I don't know," said Rebecca. "'Tain't nothin' 'bout nobility, I'm sure,though. It's a patent on a phonograph, I b'lieve."

  "Know you aught of this, my lord?" said Elizabeth, turning to Burleigh.

  "Why, yes, your Majesty. I have to-day received from Sir Percevall Harta letter written by my nephew, Francis Bacon----"

  "Bacon! What! Ay--methinks we know somewhat of this same Francis," saidthe Queen, grimly. "A member of Parliament, is he not?"

  "Even so, your Majesty," said Burleigh, somewhat crestfallen. "From thisletter I learn," he continued, while Elizabeth shook her head, "thatthis American--a Master Dupe, I believe----"

  "No--no--Droop!" cried Rebecca. "Copernicus Droop."

  The baron bowed.

  "That this Master Droop desires the grant of a monopoly in----"

  "A monopoly!" cried Elizabeth. "What! This independent youngbarrister--this parliamentary meddler in opposition, forsooth! Hecraveth a monopoly? God's death! A monopoly in all the impudence in thisour realm is of a surety this fellow's right! We grant it--we grant it.Let the papers be drawn forthwith!"

  The baron bent before the storm and, bowing, remained silent. Rebecca,however, could scarce see the justice of the Queen's position.

  "Well, but look here, your Majesty," she said. "'Tain't Mr. Bacon aswants this patent; it's Mr. Droop. Mr. Bacon only gave him a letter toMr. Burleigh here."

  Astonishment was depicted in every face save in that of the Queen, whoselittle eyes were now turned upon her sister sovereign in anger.

  "Harkye, Lady Rebecca!" she exclaimed. "Is it the custom to take theQueen to task in your realm?"

  Rebecca's reply came pat. The type was prepared beforehand, and sheanswered now with a clear conscience.

  "Why, of course. We talk jest as we feel like to all the queens there isin my country."

  The equivocation in this reply must have struck the Queen, for shesaid, without taking her eyes from Rebecca's face:

  "And, prithee, Lady Rebecca, how many queens be there in America? Webegin to doubt if royalty be known there."

  Again Messer Guido evinced signs of an anxious desire to speak, andRebecca shrewdly took advantage of this at once.

  "Messer Guido can tell you all 'bout that, I guess," she said.

  Elizabeth turned her eyes to the savant.

  "What knowledge have you of this, learned doctor?" she asked, coldly.

  "Why, your Majesty," said Guido, with delighted zeal, "the case isplain. Will your Majesty but look at this drawing on one of the innerpages of the printed document brought by the Lady Rebecca? Behold theeffigy of a powder canister, with the words 'Royal Baking Powder'thereon. This would appear evidence that in America gunpowder is knownand is used by the sovereigns of the various tribes. Here again we see'The Royal Corset,' and there 'Crown Shirts.' Can it be doubted that theAmericans have royal governors?"

  The Queen's face cleared a little at this, and Guido proceeded withincreased animation:

  "Behold further upon the front page, your Majesty, the effigy of a manwearing a round crown with a peak or projecting shelf over the eyes.Under this we read the legend 'The Czar of the Tenderloin.' Now, yourMajesty will remember that the ruler of Muscovy is termed the Czar. TheTenderloin signifieth, doubtless, some order, akin, perchance, to theGarter."

  "This hath a plausible bent, Messer Guido," said Elizabeth, with moregood-nature. "Lady Rebecca, can you better explain this matter of theCzar?"

  "No, indeed," Rebecca replied, with perfect truth. "Mister Guido musthave a fine mind to understand things like that!"

  "In sooth, good Messer Guido," said Elizabeth, with a smile, "yourresearch and power of logic do you great credit. We doubt not to learnmore of these new empires from your learned pains than ever fromRaleigh, Drake, and the other travellers whose dull wits go but to thesurface of things. But, Lord warrant us!" she continued, "here standethour page, having as yet no answer. Go, sirrah, and bid Sir Percevall andthis great American to our presence straight."

  Then, turning again to Guido, she said:

  "Messer Guido, we enjoin it upon your learning that you do make a noteof the petition of this American, as well as of those things which hemay answer in explanation of his design."

  With a bow, Guido stepped to one side and, carefully folding thenewspaper, drew from his bosom his tablets and prepared to obey.

  All eyes turned curiously to the door as it opened to admit the twosuitors, who were followed by the page. Sir Percevall, with plumed hatin one hand and sword hilt in the other, advanced ponderously, bowinglow at every other step. Droop hurriedly deposited his two boxes uponthe floor and followed his monitor, closely imitating his every step andgesture. Having no sword, he thought it best to put his left hand intohis bosom, an attitude which he recollected in a picture of DanielWebster.

  The fat knight was about to kneel to kiss the royal hand, but Elizabeth,smiling, detained him.

  "Nay, nay!" she said. "You, Sir Percevall, have paid your debt of homagein advance for a twelvemonth. He who kisses the dust at our feet hathknelt for ten." Then, turning to Droop, who was down on both knees, withhis hand still in his breast: "What now!" she exclaimed. "Hath your handsuffered some mischance, Sir American, that you hide it in your bosom?"


  "Not a mite--not a mite!" Droop stuttered, quickly extending the memberin question. "Nay, your Majesty--in sooth, no--my hand beeth all right!"

  "We learn from the Lord Treasurer," said Elizabeth, addressing SirPercevall, "that your petition hath reference to a monopoly. Know younot, Sir Knight, that these be parlous days for making of newmonopolies? Our subjects murmur, and 'tis said that we have already beentoo generous with these great gifts. Have you considered of this?"

  "My liege," said Sir Percevall, "these things have we considered. Norwould we tempt this awful Presence with petitions looking to tax furtherthe public patience. But, please your Majesty, Master Droop, my clienthere," indicating the still kneeling man with a sweeping gesture, "hathbrought into being an instrument, or rather two instruments, ofmarvellous fashion and of powers strange. Of these your Majesty'ssubjects have had hitherto no knowledge, and it is in the making andselling of these within this realm that we do here crave a right ofmonopoly under the Great Seal."

  "Excuse me, forsooth, your Majesty," Droop broke in, "but would thoumind if I get up, my liege?"

  "Nay, rise, rise, Master Droop!" exclaimed the Queen, smothering alaugh. "We find matter for favor in your sponsor's speech. Can you morefully state the nature of this petition?"

  "Yes, ma'am--your Majesty," said Droop, rising and dusting off hisknees. "I am the inventor of a couple of things, forsooth, that are awayahead of the age. Marry, yes! I call 'em a bicycle and a phonograph."

  "Well, did you ever!" murmured Rebecca, amazed at this impudent claim toinvention.

  Messer Guido paused in his writing and began to unfold his preciousAmerican newspaper, while Droop went on, encouraged by the attentivecuriosity which he had evidently excited in the Queen.

  "Now, the bicycle--or the bike, fer short--is a kind of a wagon orvehycle, you wot. When you mount on it, you can trundle yerself alonglike all possessed----"

  "Gramercy!" broke in the Queen, in a tone of irritation. "What have wehere! We must have plain English, Master Droop. American idioms areunknown to us."

  As Droop opened his mouth to reply, Guido stepped forward with a greatrustling of paper.

  "May it please your Gracious Majesty--" he panted, eagerly.

  "Speak, Messer Guido."

  "I would fain question this gentleman, your Majesty, touching certainthings contained herein." He shook the paper at arm's length and glaredat Droop, who returned the look with a calm eye.

  "You may proceed, sir," said Elizabeth.

  "Why, Master Droop, you that are the inventor of this same 'bicycle,'how explain you this?"

  He thrust the paper under Droop's nose, pointing to an advertisementtherein.

  "Here," he continued, "here have we a picture bearing the legend,'Baltimore Bicycle--Buy No Other'--" He paused, but before Copernicuscould speak he went on breathlessly: "And look on this, MasterDroop--see here--here! Another drawing, this time with the legend,'Edison's Phonographs.' How comes it that you have invented thesethings? Can you invent on this 21st day of May, in the year of our Lord1598, what was here set forth as early as--as--" he turned the paperback to the first page, "as early as April--" he stopped, turned pale,and choked. Droop looked mildly triumphant.

  "Well--well!" cried Elizabeth, "hast lost thy voice, man?"

  "My liege," murmured the bewildered savant, "the date--thisdocument----"

  "Is dated in 1898," said Droop, solemnly. "This here bike and phonographwon't be invented by anyone else for three hundred years yet."

  Elizabeth frowned angrily and grasped the arms of her chair in an accessof wrath which, after a pause, found vent in a torrent of words:

  "Now, by God's death, my masters, you will find it ill jesting in thispresence! What in the fiend's name! Think ye, Elizabeth of England maybe tricked and cozened--made game of by a scurvy Italian bookworm and awitless----"

  The adjectives and expletives which followed may not be reported here.As the storm of words progressed, growing more violent in itscontinuance, Droop stood open-mouthed, not comprehending the cause ofthis tirade. Of the others, but one preserved his wits at this moment ofdanger.

  Sir Percevall, well aware that the Queen's fury, unless checked, wouldproduce his and his client's ruin, determined to divert this flood ofemotion into a new channel. With the insight of genius, the fat knightrealized that only a woman's curiosity could avert a queen's rage, andwith what speed he could he stumbled backward to where Droop had lefthis exhibits. He lifted the box containing the phonograph and, takingthe instrument out, held it on the palm of his huge left hand and benthis eyes upon it in humble and resigned contemplation.

  The quick roving eye of the angry Queen caught sight of this queerassemblage of cogs, levers, and cylinder, and for the first time hertoo-ready tongue tripped. She looked away and recovered herself to theend of the sentence. She could not resist another look, however, andthis time her words came more slowly. She paused--wavered--and thenfixed her gaze in silence upon the enigmatical device. There was aunanimous smothered sigh as the bystanders recognized their goodfortune. Guido, frightened half to death, slipped unobserved out of aside door, and was never seen at Greenwich again. Nor has that fatalnewspaper been heard from since.

  "What may that be, Sir Percevall?" the Queen inquired at length,settling back in her chair as comfortably as her ruff would permit.

  "This, my liege, is the phonograph," said the knight, straighteninghimself proudly.

  "An my Greek be not at fault," said the Queen, "this name should purporta writer of sound."

  Sir Percevall's face fell. He was no Greek scholar, and this querypushed him hard. Fortunately for him, Elizabeth turned to Droop as sheconcluded her sentence.

  "Hath your invention this intent, Master Droop?" she said.

  "Verily, I guess you've hit it--I wot that's right!" stammered the stillfrightened man.

  A very audible murmur of admiration passed from one to another of theassembled courtiers and ladies-in-waiting. These expressions reached theears of the Queen, for whom they were indeed intended, and theconsciousness of her acumen restored Elizabeth entirely to good-humor.

  "The conceit is very novel, is it not, my lord?" she said, turning toBaron Burleigh.

  "Novel, indeed, and passing marvellous if achieved, your Majesty," wasthe suave reply.

  "How write you sounds with this device, Master Droop?" she asked.

  "Why, thusly, ma'am--your Majesty," said Droop, with renewed courage."One speaketh, you wot--talketh-like into this hole--this aperture." Heturned and pointed to the mouth-piece of the instrument, which was stillin Sir Percevall's hands. "Hevin' done this, you wot, this littlepin-like pricketh or scratcheth the wax, an' the next time you go overthe thing, there you are!"

  Conscious of the lameness of this explanation, Droop hurried on, hopingto forestall further questions.

  "Let me show ye, my liege, how she works, in sooth," he said, taking thephonograph from the knight. Looking all about, he could see nothing athand whereon to conveniently rest the device.

  "Marry, you wouldn't mind ef I was to set this right here on yourtable, would ye, my liege?" he asked.

  Permission was graciously accorded, and, depositing the phonograph,Droop hurried back to get his records. Holding a wax cylinder in onehand, he proceeded.

  "Now, your Majesty can graciously gaze on this wax cylinder," he said."On here we hev scrawled--written--a tune played by a cornet. It is'Home, Sweet Home.' Ye've heerd it, no doubt?"

  "Nay, the title is not familiar," said the Queen, looking about her.With one accord, the courtiers shook their heads in corroboration.

  "Is that so? Well, well! Why, every boy and gal in America knows thattune well!" said Droop.

  He adjusted the cylinder and a small brass megaphone, and, having woundthe motor, pressed the starting-button. Almost at once a stentorianvoice rang through the apartment:

  "Home, Sweet Home--Cornet Solo--By Signor Paolo Morituri--EdisonRecord."

  The sudden voice, issuing from the dead revolvi
ng cylinder, was sounexpected and startling that several of the ladies screamed and atleast one gentleman pensioner put his hand to his sword-hilt. Elizabethherself started bolt upright and turned pale under her rouge as sheclutched the arms of her chair. Before she could express her feelingsthe cornet solo began, and the entire audience gradually resumed itswonted serenity before the close of the air.

  "Marvellous beyond telling!" exclaimed Elizabeth, in delight. "Why, thiscontrivance of yours, Master Droop, shall make your name and fortunethroughout our realm. Have you many such ingenious gentlemen in yourkingdom, Lady Rebecca?"

  "Oh, dear me, yes!" said Rebecca, somewhat contemptuously. "CopernicusDroop ain't nobody in America."

  Droop glanced reproachfully at his compatriot, but concluded not to giveexpression to his feelings. Accordingly, he very quickly substitutedanother cylinder, and turned again to the Queen.

  "Now, your Majesty," said he, "here's a comic monologue. I tell you,verily, it's a side-splitter!"

  "What may a side-splitter be, Master Droop?"

  "Why, in sooth, somethin' almighty funny, you know--make a feller laugh,you wot."

  Elizabeth nodded and, with a smile of anticipation, which was copied byall present, prepared to be amused.

  Alas! The monologue was an account of how a farmer got the best of abunco steerer in New York City, and was delivered in the esotericdialect of the Bowery. It was not long before willing smiles gave placeto long-drawn faces of comic bewilderment, and, although Copernicus sethis best example by artificial grins and pretended inward laughter, hecould evoke naught but silence and bored looks.

  "Marry, sir," said Elizabeth, when the monologue was at an end, "thisneeds be some speech of an American empire other than that you comefrom. Could you make aught of it, Lady Rebecca?"

  "Nothin' on airth!" was the reply. "Only a word now an' then about afarmer--an' somethin' about hayseed."

  "Now, here's a reg'lar bird!" said Droop, hastily, as he put in a newcylinder.

  "Can you thus record e'en the voices of fowls?" said the Queen, withrenewed interest.

  Hopeless of explaining, Droop bowed and touched the starting-button. Theannouncement came at once.

  "Liberty Bells March--Edison Record," and after a few preliminaryflourishes, a large brass band could be heard in full career.

  This proved far more pleasing to the Queen and her suite.

  "So God mend us, a merry tune and full of harmony!" said the Queen.

  "But that ain't all, your Majesty," said Droop. "Here's a blankcylinder, now." He adjusted it as he spoke and unceremoniously pushedthe instrument close to the Queen. "Here," he said, "jest you talkanythin' you want to in there and you'll see suthin' funny, I'll betye!" He was thoroughly warmed to his work now, and the little courtetiquette which he had acquired dropped from him entirely.

  The Queen's eager interest had been so aroused that she was unconsciousof his too familiar manner. Leaning over the phonograph as Droopstarted the motor, she looked about her and said, with a titter: "Whatshall we say? Weighty words should grace so great an occasion, mylords."

  "Oh, say the Declaration of Independence or the 'Charge of the LightBrigade'!" Droop exclaimed. "Any o' them things in the school-books!"

  Elizabeth saw that the empty cylinder was passing uselessly and wastedno time in discussion, but began to declaim some verses of Horace.

  "M--m--m--" exclaimed Droop, doubtfully. "I don't know as thisphonograph will work on Latin an' Greek!"

  The Queen completed her quotation and, sitting back again in her chair:

  "Now, Master Droop, we have done our part," she said.

  Droop readjusted the repeating diaphragm and started the motor oncemore. There were two or three squeaks and then an affected littlechuckle.

  "What shall we say?" it began. "Weighty words should grace so great anoccasion, my lords."

  Elizabeth laughed a little hysterically to hear her unstudied phraserepeated, and then, with a look of awe, listened to the repetition ofthe verses she had recited.

  "Can any voice be so repeated?" she asked, seriously, when this recordwas completed.

  "Anyone ye please--any ye please!" said the delighted promoter, visionsof uncounted wealth dancing in his head. "Now, here's a few words wasspoken on a cylinder jest two or three weeks ago by Miss Wise," hecontinued, hunting through his stock of records. "Ah, here it is! It'sall 'bout Mister Bacon--I daresay you know him." The Queen looked alittle stern at this. "Tells all 'bout him, I believe. I ferget jestwhat it said, but we can soon see."

  The cylinder was that before which Phoebe had read an extract from thevolume on Bacon's supposed parentage and his writings while she was atthe North Pole. Little did Droop conceive what a train he wasunconsciously lighting as he adjusted the cylinder in place. As he said,he had forgotten the exact purport of the extract in question, but, evenhad he recollected it, he would probably have so little understood itsterrific import that his course would have been the same. Ignorant ofhis danger, he pushed the starting-button and looked pleasantly at theQueen, whose dislike of anything having to do with Francis Bacon hadalready brought a frown to her face.

  All too exactly the fateful mechanism ground out the very words andvoice of Phoebe:

  "It is thus made clear from the indubitable evidence of the playsthemselves, that Francis Bacon wrote the immortal works falsely ascribedto William Shakespeare, and that the gigantic genius of this man was theresult of the possession of royal blood. In this unacknowledged son ofElizabeth Tudor, Queen of England, was made manifest to all countriesand for all centuries the glorious powers inherent in the regal blood ofEngland."

  As the fearful meaning of these words was developed by the machine,amazement gave place to consternation in those present and consternationto abject terror. Each fear-palsied courtier looked with pale face toright and left as though to seek escape. The fat knight, hitherto allcomplacency, listening to this brazen traducer of the Queen's virginhonor, seemed to shrink within himself, and his very clothing hung looseupon him.

  Droop and Rebecca, ignorant of the true bearing of the spoken words,gazed in amazement from one to another until, glancing at the Queen,their eyes remained fixed and fascinated.

  The unthinkable insult implied in the words repeated was trebled inforce by being spoken thus publicly and in calm accents to her veryface. She--the daughter of Henry the Eighth; she--Elizabeth ofEngland--the Virgin Queen--to be thus coolly proclaimed the mother ofthis upstart barrister!

  As a cyclone approaches, silent and terrific, visible only in the swiftswirling changes of a livid and blackened sky, so the fatal passion inthat imperial bosom was known at first only in the gleaming of her blackeyes beneath contorted brows and the spasmodic changes that swept overthe pale red-painted face.

  The danger thus portended was clear even to the bewildered Droop, and,before the instrument had said its say, he began to slip very quietlytoward the door.

  As the speech ended, Elizabeth emitted a growl that grew into a shriekof fury, and, with her hair actually rising on her head, she threwherself bodily upon the offending phonograph.

  In her two hands she raised the instrument above her, and with amaniac's force hurled it full at the head of Copernicus Droop.

  Instinctively he dodged, and the mass of wood and steel crashed againstthe door of the chamber, bursting it open and causing the two guardswithout to fall back.

  Droop saw his chance and took it. Turning, with a yell he dashed pastthe guards and across the antechamber to the main entrance-hall. TheQueen, choked with passion, could only gasp and point her handfrantically after the fleeing man, but at once her gentlemen, drawingtheir swords, rushed in a body from the room with cries of"Treason--treason! Stop him! Catch him!"

  Down the main hallway and out into the silent court-yard Droop fled onthe wings of fear, pursued by a shouting throng, growing every momentlarger.

  As he emerged into the yard a sentry tried to stop him, but, with asingle side spring, the Yankee eluded this danger a
nd flung himselfupon his bicycle, which he found leaning against the palace wall.

  "Close the gates! Trap him!" was the cry, and the ponderous iron gatesswung together with a clang. But just one second before they closed, thenarrow bicycle, with its terror-stricken burden, slipped through intothe street beyond and turned sharply to the west, gaining speed everyinstant. Droop had escaped for the moment, and now bent every effortupon reaching the Panchronicon in safety.

  Then, as the tumult of futile chase faded into silence behind thestraining fugitive, there might have been seen whirling through theancient streets of London a weird and wondrous vision.

  Perched on a whirl of spokes gleaming in the moonlight, a lean blackfigure in rumpled hose, with flying cloak, slipped ghostlike through thenarrow streets at incredible speed. Many a footpad or belated townsman,warned by the mystic tinkle of a spectral bell, had turned with a start,to faint or run at sight of this uncanny traveller.

  His hat was gone and his close-cropped head bent low over thehandle-bars. The skin-tight stockings had split from thigh to heel, mudflew from the tires, beplastering the luckless figure from nape towaist, and still, without pause, he pushed onward, ever onward, forLondon Bridge, for Southwark, and for safety. The way was tortuous, darkand unfamiliar, but it was for life or death, and Copernicus Droop wasgame.