Part 34

I have been spending a few days with Howard on his farm.

On the Fourth of July Howard wished to give the peasants in the neighborhood an entertainment to celebrate his country's "glorious Fourth." He hoped to inspire them with due enthusiasm and give them a good day's sport.

The Danish peasant's idea of amusement is to walk leisurely to the place of rendezvous, to sit quietly and rest from his week's hard work, eat plenty of Smörrebrod (sandwiches), drink barrels of beer, have tobacco ad libitum, and finally to leave as lazily as he came.

This feast was going to be otherwise. Everything was to be done à l'Américaine. The Fourth fell on a Sunday, and the farmers all accepted and came on the stroke of the clock, dressed in their Sunday-best clothes, which are of heavy broadcloth, made in the fashion of Louis Philippe, voluminous over the hips, thick, heavy-soled boots, and with long snake-like pipes hanging from their mouths.

Howard had arranged all sorts of gymkhana sports, for which prizes were to be given. There were to be the long jump, the high jump, a running-race, catching the greased pig, pole-climbing, a race in a bag, and so forth.

"They shall have a high old time," said Howard.

Their dismay only equaled their astonishment when they were told what was expected of them. What! Jump, run, and be tied up in bags and climb poles? Was this the way that they were going to amuse themselves on this hot day? Were soiling their clothes, perspiring, and suffering tortures in their tight boots the delightful, reposeful feast they had been invited to? Their inborn politeness would not allow them to do otherwise than obey the wishes of their host. They tried their best to perform the feats put down on the program.

Their week's work of mowing, cutting trees, plowing, threshing, and the different things belonging to a farmer's life seemed child's play compared with this so-called enjoyment.

They did not understand why they got prizes for deeds they had not done, and received the box of cigars or silver mug with unperturbed serenity.

Consternation and resignation were the only expressions on their faces. Neither did they understand when they were told to cry "Hurrah!" and wave their hats after Howard should finish his oration. That he made standing on a table. He expatiated on the beauty of liberty and the soul-inspiring feeling of independence, and became quite eloquent. They cheered in a spiritless and cheerless manner. For them liberty was a high-sounding word which meant nothing. An enlightened government provided them with all they needed. Why have the bother to choose your doctor or your priest when all that is done for you? Only to pay taxes. Can anything be more simple?

The games H. tried to teach them were not successful. They stood in a circle and were told (Howard rubbed his hands in a dainty manner) that "this is the way we wash our clothes." This did not appeal to them; they knew too well how they washed theirs, and they saw no fun in imitating such every-day affairs as washing and ironing.

Every way "we did" things had to be explained at length and translated into Danish. And the most inexplicable of all the games was "Oranges and lemons." When they were asked if they wanted oranges or lemons; they all answered, truthfully and conscientiously, "Oranges." Who in his senses would prefer a sour lemon to a juicy orange? The result was that the battle was very one-sided--all oranges and only one lemon.

The dance was also rather dismal. The musicians played some national waltzes, and the guests shuffled about on the sanded floor, treading a slow measure and on one another's toes; the women held on to their partners by their shoulders, and the men clutched the women round their bulky waists. However, they all kept the measure, and some of the men really danced quite well.

The finale was the fireworks. It ought to have been a grand display, but the rockets were damp, the "wheels," which ought to have wheeled up in the air, merely whizzed on the ground and seemed to make for the nearest guest in an absolutely vicious manner. All the things that ought to have gone off stayed and sputtered.

As an entertainment it was a failure. The guests, however, had plenty to eat and drink, and carried away pockets full of tobacco and cigars, but it was rather pathetic to see the worn-out and weary farmers dragging their tired limbs slowly and ponderously down the avenue with a look of "Why all this?" depicted on their faces.

MONZA, October 17th.

After luncheon to-day we went out on the terrace to drink our coffee. The sun was warm and the air deliciously cool, a typical Italian autumn day. As we sat there we heard some mysterious noise which came from the side of the park where the avenue terminates and is divided from the deer-park by a large iron gate.

Looking down the avenue, we saw a man peering through the bars of the gate. He had a bear with him. Her Majesty was curious to see them and ordered the gate unlocked and the man and the bear permitted to enter. The man was quite young, with soft black eyes and dazzling teeth. He led the bear by a heavy iron chain passed through a ring in its nose. The Queen went down the steps and talked with him.

"Will he bite me if I pat him?" she asked.

"No, signora; he is very good" ("E molto buono"). He hesitated a moment, and then said, "Signora, will you tell me which of the ladies there is the Regina?" The Queen was immensely amused, and answered, "I am the Queen" ("Son io la Regina"). The young fellow was quite overcome, and threw himself on the ground and kissed the hem of her dress.

"How did you tame the bear?" inquired her Majesty.

He answered in a very agitated voice: "Maesta, it was very easy. Bears are not difficult to tame. One must only be kind and patient."

"You look," said the Queen, "as if you were very kind and patient."

The young Italian passed his hand lovingly over his companion's shaggy head, and as he looked up at the beautiful and smiling Queen his eyes filled with tears. "I love him," he said, simply; "he is my only friend." We, who stood near enough to hear, were trembling on the verge of weeping. He added, "We never leave each other; we eat and sleep together, and all I have I share with him."

I saw tears in the Queen's eyes, which she quickly wiped away; and, turning to the man, she asked, "Can he do any tricks?"

"Si, maesta, he can lie on his back and put his paws up in the air and hum."

This did not seem much of a trick, probably being a bear's customary attitude.

"Well," said the Queen, "let us see what he can do."