A Royal Visit

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Title:     A Royal Visit
Author: Anthon B. E. Nilsen [More Titles by Nilsen]

"Heard the news, Nickelsen?" cried Thor Smith, looking in at Nickelsen's door.

"No, what?"

"The King's coming."

"Don't talk nonsense--what d'you mean?"

"It's true, honour bright. The Council's all head over heels already, fixing up a committee for the arrangement."

"No, really? Why, that'll be first-rate. Just wanted something to brighten things up a bit; it's been very dull lately." Old Nick rubbed his hands gleefully. "Come along, let's walk down that way a bit and see if we can get hold of somebody in the know."

"Hallo, here's Holm Berg! I say, are you on this committee?"

"No, thank goodness, I managed to get out of it. Not but that there were plenty anxious to get in!"

"Who's on it, then, do you know?"

"Well, there's Heidt, of course, as Justice, but he was quite put out about it himself, and wished His Majesty I won't say where. You see, it means getting new uniform, for the gold braid's all worn off his old one."

"Well, and who else?"

"Oh, let's see; the parson, Governor Hansen, Watchmaker Rordam and Dr. Knap--oh yes, and Prois, of course, as Warden."

"What, old Prois?"

"Yes, and he was quite cut up about it too. Said he was too old for such tomfoolery."

It was a busy time all round for the loyal citizens of Strandvik; and the worst of it was, they had only three days to make all arrangements. The royal party would arrive on Thursday at four o'clock and dine in the town. And to-day was Monday.

The committee held meetings morning and afternoon. A band was asked for by telegram from the naval station at Horten, and a special cook from Drammen; both, fortunately, promised to come.

A triumphal arch was set up at the Custom House, and Nachmann, the German wine merchant, sent up four cart-loads of bottles to the Town Hall, where the banquet was to be held. Nachmann was in high feather, and declared loyally that a Royal House was an excellent institution and an encouragement to trade and commerce.

But what was the King to drive in? Consul Jansen had a very respectable pair-horse carriage of his own, lined with grey silk, and suitable for most "special occasions," but unfortunately one of the horses was lame, and the other a confirmed runaway. What was to be done?

Lt. Heidt had just got a new mount, but so miserably emaciated a beast that one could almost see daylight through its ribs. There was no possibility of using such a bag of bones for such a purpose.

Finally, the choice fell upon Baker Ottosen's black mare, a famous beauty. But one mare's not a pair; there was nothing for it but to take Governor Hansen's old "Swift," so called from the fact of its never on any occasion exceeding the easiest amble. It was hoped that the close proximity of the mare would liven it up a little.

For three whole days Aslaksen of the livery stables practised the pair up and down through the streets, to the great edification of the urchins, who ran after the carriage shouting and cheering.

Tar barrels and rockets were set ready in place out in the fjord, and all the candles in the stores were bought up for the purpose of illumination.

From early morning the committee wa abroad, in full evening-dress, and desperately busy.

Old Justice Heidt stood in his shirt-sleeves and new gold-braided breeches making his most deferential bow to an old American clock: "May it please Your Majesty, in the person of the town's ..." he had to look up the paper and read through his speech once again.

Excitement increased as the day wore on. Stout peasant girls with red roses in their hats, and lanky youths with blue and green ties, and a bottle of spirits in their hinder pockets, began pouring into the town.

The committee was working feverishly. Everything was now practically ready, flags and bunting everywhere, and as many green wreaths as seven old women had been able to prepare in three days. All that remained was the great centre-piece, with the arms of the town, to be hung above the royal seat in the banqueting hall.

Watchmaker Rordam, who, in addition to having charge of all the time-pieces in the town, further acted as instrument maker, turner and decorator, had undertaken to paint the aforesaid piece. But at one o'clock he suddenly retired in dudgeon, and the arms of the town were nowhere. The cause of this disaster was Old Nick, who had come up during the morning to the hall to see how the decorations were getting on. Rordam was there just putting the finishing touches to his masterpiece.

"Ah, Rordam, painting a picture, are you? Tell me, what it's supposed to be, exactly?"

"Eh?" said Rordam, with a frown. "Can't you see? Why, the town arms, of course--a bear holding a pine tree on a blue ground, and a goddess with the scales of justice in red in the other corner."

"No, really?" said Old Nick. "Devil take me, if I didn't think it was Adam and Eve stealing apples in the Garden of Eden."

Rordam was furious, and swore he would not put up with such impertinence, he had not come there to be insulted. He had undertaken the work as a loyal citizen's contribution to the general good, without fee or remuneration of any sort, and if Lawyer Nickelsen thought he could paint a better coat-of-arms, why, let him take over the business, and welcome. And, tearing down his painting, the indignant watchmaker took himself off.

Old Nick likewise found it advisable to disappear, after a vain attempt to bring the injured painter to reason, assuring him that it was only a joke, no harm intended, etc. etc.

The committee was summoned in haste, and stood staring blankly at the empty space where the bear and the goddess of justice should have appeared.

Their anger was very naturally turned upon Old Nick.

"Really, I think he might have kept his remarks to himself," said Dr. Knap. "Old muddler that he is."

"He never can keep a still tongue in his head," agreed Justice Heidt.

It was now past one o'clock: the King was to arrive at four, and there was no painting a new design in three hours. Hang up a big Norwegian flag? That, of course, could be done; but it would seem a very poor sort of decoration without the arms of the town. Then Governor Hansen had a bright idea: "Let's get up an impromptu lunch at once, and ask Rordam along, as if nothing was the matter."

"Do you think he'll come?" asked Justice Heidt.

"Sure enough--if we just let him know it's a special lunch for a small select party. Send the message in your own name, Justice, and I'll wager a bottle of Montebello he'll come."

Half an hour after, Rordam arrived, and was received by Justice Heidt, who clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him heartily for his splendid decoration of the hall.

"And I must say we are fortunate in having in so small a town an artist of taste like yourself. I am sure His Majesty will wish to thank you personally. By the way, that coat of arms, it will be ready in time, I hope? Dr. Knap was just saying it was a magnificent piece of work."

"Why--er--that is--I wasn't altogether pleased with it myself, so I took it down."

"Oh, nonsense, my dear fellow! I am sure it's excellent. Hang it up again and don't worry about that."

The shield was set in place again accordingly, and the committee unanimously expressed their admiration. The figure of the bear in particular was highly praised. "As lifelike as anything you'd see in a menagerie," said Warden Prois cautiously. "And the young lady too, I'm sure," said Dr. Knap, with a sly nudge to Heidt. Rordam was pacified, completely won over, and so gratified at the amiable condescension of the notables at lunch that he felt he could afford to despise a mere lawyer like that fellow Nickelsen.

At half-past three precisely the committee members of Council and other leading personages went down to the quay where the Royal party was to land. The appearance of Warden Prois, with his gold-laced cap, ditto tunic, belt and dirk (all newly ordered for the occasion) was the signal for cheering from the assembled urchins. The demonstration, however, so annoyed the old man that he angrily ordered them to "keep quiet, you little devils," at which undignified utterance on the part of a person in authority, Justice Heidt frowned severely.

The four town constables were likewise dressed for the occasion with new trousers and white cotton gloves, and made a brave show.

"Boom--boom--boom!" came the salute from the fire-station, and Ottosen's black mare reared so violently that Aslaksen's silver-braided silk hat fell off. Worse was to come, however. As the band from Horten struck up, "Swift" became troublesome. At last the Warden himself had to spring to the heads of the frantic pair and hold them, or the whole equipage would have gone over the side into the water. His Majesty, no doubt from previous experience of provincial turn-outs, preferred to walk, and the party moved off, accompanied by a burst of cheering, towards the Town Hall; Aslaksen, with his carriage and ill assorted pair, following shamefacedly in the rear.

At the upper end of the Royal table sat the Justice and other notables; the King's suite were distributed between the members of the committee. For the convenience of the latter, Heidt had had cards set round at each place, with the names of the guest seated next. Warden Prois, who had been introduced to his particular charge, but had not managed to catch the name, slipped away stealthily outside, put on his spectacles and endeavoured to read his card. "His Excellency ... M.--M.--Megesen--no, Pegestik--devil take me if I can make head or tail of it." At last he decided for "Negesuk" as the Excellency's name--Swedish names were always queer.

It was a very festive affair, and full justice was done to the fourteen courses and Nachmann's good wine. The official speeches were all delivered with laudable precision, excepting Governor Hansen's. That worthy came to a standstill, and had to fumble in his waistcoat pocket for the written copy, consisting of two lines scrawled on a bit of paper, the crumpled appearance of which suggested that it had been liberally consulted already.

The talk flowed easily and without embarrassing restraint. Old Klementsen quietly pocketed a copy of the menu, to take home to his wife; it was only fair that she should have her share of the feast.

"Mr. Chamberlain Negesuk, may I have the honour?" Prois raised his glass courteously towards his neighbour, who drank with him and bowed in return, albeit with some stiffness of manner. This, however, the Warden attributed to their proximity to the Royal person.

"Ah--my name is Von Vegesak," said the courtier, with a bow.

"The deuce it is," said Prois; "it doesn't look like it on the card." And he put on his glasses and turned the card about.

"Oh, but that's not my birth certificate, you know," answered Von Vegesak, with a smile.

"Well, anyhow, here's to you, Mr.--Mr.--Vegesak."

At one end of the Royal table sat Governor Hansen and Captain Palander, deep in conversation about--horses! Horses were the one theme in which Hansen was really interested, devoting especial attention to trotters, and once he got on to his favourite subject there was no stopping him.

"Curious thing," he observed, "I had a trotting horse a few years ago called Palander--ha, ha, ha! Yes, that was really its name. But I could never get any pace out of it on ordinary going; ice underfoot was the only thing to make it go."

"Very good claret this," murmured the King to Justice Heidt.

"Yes, Your Majesty; we have it from our worthy dealer here, Mr. Nachmann, a citizen of the town."

"Quite right, Your Majesty; a genuine brand and premier one." Nachmann rose to his feet and turned his moonlike countenance towards the King.

"Thanks for good wine, then, Nachmann," said His Majesty, raising his glass.

"Proudest moment in my life, Your Majesty. I'll take the liberty of laying down a few bottles in memory of the occasion--until Your Majesty honours us again. Most humble servant, Your Majesty."

And Nachmann bowed deeply, but with evident pride. How they would envy him now, P. A. Larsen, Lundgren, Carl Fleischer, and all the rest of them, who fancied nobody sold good wine but themselves! He would get the editor of the Strandvik Gazette to quote the Royal compliment to the firm of Nachmann & Co.--it was a credit to the town to have such a business in its midst.

When Nachmann rose, there was a sudden silence; one could have heard a pin drop. But since His Majesty took the occurrence in such good part, the others could do so too. Nevertheless, Justice Heidt considered Nachmann's behaviour unjustifiable and a breach of etiquette. He cast a glance of stern reproof at the wine merchant, but the latter was so elated that he misunderstood its meaning, and, raising his glass, nodded pleasantly in return: "Your health, Justice!"

Old Klementsen, the parish clerk, who had hardly eaten at all for two days in order to get full value out of the banquet for his twelve shillings, had been shovelling away as hard as he could stuff, and drinking in proportion. He was now in high feather as a result, and his one idea now was to get up and make a speech in honour of Carl Johan, whom he had seen in 1840.

His neighbours with difficulty restrained him, tearing the tails of his coat in their efforts to keep him in his seat. Finally, they got him down into the police cells on the ground floor, when he delivered his loyal oration to the warder.

Up in the gallery sat the ladies of the town, perspiring in their Sunday best; it was almost hot enough up there to boil a lobster. All were thirsty too, and matters were not improved by the sight of their respective husbands and fathers in the hall below eating and drinking ad libitum of the best, while they themselves had neither bite nor sup.

Miss Svane, headmistress of the girls' school, could not restrain her emotions, and declared warmly that "it was easy enough to be a loyal subject of His Majesty if that was how they did it!"

Cilia Braaten had never seen a King at meals before; she was gratified with the new experience, and had no thought for anything else until Miss Svane delivered her envious dictum. Then, however, she resolutely sent off a boy for six bottles of lemonade, in which the ladies drank to His Majesty's health--and, literally speaking, drank it warmly.

At last the time came for the Royal party to leave, and the departure took place amid an endless thunder of cheering. Rockets whizzed, the gun at the fire-station boomed in salute. But in the banqueting-hall the fun grew fast and furious.

Bowls of punch were brought in, and Schoolmaster Iversen made thirteen speeches, to which nobody listened at all. Skipper Abrahamsen jumped up on the table and made another for the Norwegian play, in the course of which he managed to empty his glass of punch over Warden Prois's new uniform, at which that worthy, very naturally incensed, cursed the patriot emphatically for behaving like a monkey on a tightrope.

Even aged Klementsen had come to life again, and found his way upstairs from the cells, somewhat pale but resolute still. His appearance was greeted with a burst of cheering, and a party of enthusiasts chaired him round the hall, singing patriotic songs the while. The singing and shouting continued well on towards morning, and a street sweeper declared he had heard them howling out "God save our gracious King" at half-past six--but his watch, no doubt, must have been fast!

Next day the Strandvik Gazette contained a poem entitled "A Royal Visit," from which the following verses concerning the banquet may be quoted:

"'Twas plain to see that Strandvik town
Lacked neither meat nor mirth,
The banquet might have brought renown
To any place on earth.
The dishes, numbering fourteen,
Were rich enough to make,
If such his daily fare had been,
The Royal tummy ache.
And healths were drunk and speeches very wittily were said,
And those who had no speech to make, they drank the wine instead.
But yet in spite of speeches gay
And wit and wine, I dare to say
His Majesty was glad to get away!"

[The end]
Anthon B. E. Nilsen's short story: Royal Visit

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