Chapter Chapter 16 · The State Dinner.

. The State Dinner.

The dinner hour drew near--yet strangely enough, the thought brought

but slight discomfort to Tom, and hardly any terror.  The morning’s

experiences had wonderfully built up his confidence; the poor little

ash-cat was already more wonted to his strange garret, after four

days’ habit, than a mature person could have become in a full month.  A

child’s facility in accommodating itself to circumstances was never more

strikingly illustrated.

Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting-room and have a

glance at matters there whilst Tom is being made ready for the

imposing occasion.  It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars

and pilasters, and pictured walls and ceilings.  At the door stand tall

guards, as rigid as statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes,

and bearing halberds.  In a high gallery which runs all around the place

is a band of musicians and a packed company of citizens of both sexes,

in brilliant attire.  In the centre of the room, upon a raised platform,

is Tom’s table. Now let the ancient chronicler speak:

“A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him another

bearing a tablecloth, which, after they have both kneeled three times

with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and after

kneeling again they both retire; then come two others, one with the rod

again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when they have

kneeled as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the

table, they too retire with the same ceremonies performed by the first;

at last come two nobles, richly clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife,

who, after prostrating themselves three times in the most graceful

manner, approach and rub the table with bread and salt, with as much awe

as if the King had been present.” {6}

So end the solemn preliminaries.  Now, far down the echoing corridors

we hear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, “Place for the King!

Way for the King’s most excellent majesty!”  These sounds are momently

repeated--they grow nearer and nearer--and presently, almost in our

faces, the martial note peals and the cry rings out, “Way for the King!”

At this instant the shining pageant appears, and files in at the door,

with a measured march. Let the chronicler speak again:--

“First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly

dressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two, one of

which carries the royal sceptre, the other the Sword of State in a red

scabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards; next

comes the King himself--whom, upon his appearing, twelve trumpets and

many drums salute with a great burst of welcome, whilst all in the

galleries rise in their places, crying ‘God save the King!’  After him

come nobles attached to his person, and on his right and left march his

guard of honour, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with gilt battle-axes.”

This was all fine and pleasant.  Tom’s pulse beat high, and a glad light

was in his eye.  He bore himself right gracefully, and all the more

so because he was not thinking of how he was doing it, his mind being

charmed and occupied with the blithe sights and sounds about him--and

besides, nobody can be very ungraceful in nicely-fitting beautiful

clothes after he has grown a little used to them--especially if he is

for the moment unconscious of them. Tom remembered his instructions, and

acknowledged his greeting with a slight inclination of his plumed head,

and a courteous “I thank ye, my good people.”

He seated himself at table, without removing his cap; and did it without

the least embarrassment; for to eat with one’s cap on was the one

solitary royal custom upon which the kings and the Cantys met upon

common ground, neither party having any advantage over the other in the

matter of old familiarity with it.  The pageant broke up and grouped

itself picturesquely, and remained bareheaded.

Now to the sound of gay music the Yeomen of the Guard entered,--“the

tallest and mightiest men in England, they being carefully selected in

this regard”--but we will let the chronicler tell about it:--

“The Yeomen of the Guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with

golden roses upon their backs; and these went and came, bringing in each

turn a course of dishes, served in plate.  These dishes were received

by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed upon

the table, while the taster gave to each guard a mouthful to eat of the

particular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison.”

Tom made a good dinner, notwithstanding he was conscious that hundreds

of eyes followed each morsel to his mouth and watched him eat it with an

interest which could not have been more intense if it had been a deadly

explosive and was expected to blow him up and scatter him all about

the place.  He was careful not to hurry, and equally careful not to do

anything whatever for himself, but wait till the proper official knelt

down and did it for him.  He got through without a mistake--flawless and

precious triumph.

When the meal was over at last and he marched away in the midst of his

bright pageant, with the happy noises in his ears of blaring bugles,

rolling drums, and thundering acclamations, he felt that if he had seen

the worst of dining in public it was an ordeal which he would be glad

to endure several times a day if by that means he could but buy himself

free from some of the more formidable requirements of his royal office.