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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed his hand lovingly over his companion"s s.h.a.ggy 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 att.i.tude.
"Well," said the Queen, "let us see what he can do."
But, although the bear was addressed in terms of tenderest endearment and although we hoped that he would obey his master and do honor to the occasion, he did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, instead of lying down and humming he stood up his full height on his hind legs and began to waltz, swaying his long, plump body and shaking his thick, brown fur.
He opened his mouth wide, showing his white teeth and his great red tongue, and looked as if he were laughing and as if it was the funniest thing in the world that he was doing.
"He does not seem to be very obedient," smiled her Majesty.
"He is afraid," said the man, trying to make excuses for his pet.
"You must come again," said the Queen, "when your bear is better trained," and, turning to Signor Borea (her chamberlain), told him to give the man some money and direct him to the forester"s lodge, where some food should be given to him.
The young Italian"s face beamed with joy when he beheld the vast sum (twenty lire) he had received, and led his disobedient companion away in disgrace; but the bear, quite unconscious of being in disgrace, turned his head for a last friendly glance, walked on his hind legs in his clumsy and swaggering manner, but with a certain dignity, down the avenue.
The King, who was with us on the terrace, had been a silent witness of the whole scene, and, not being able to resist the promptings of his kind heart, followed the couple. We saw him put a gold piece in the brown palm of the poor fellow, whose "only friend" had failed him on this unique occasion. He seemed quite overcome by this Danae-like shower of gold, and hesitated before taking the piece, thinking, perhaps, that on this occasion honesty might be the best policy, and said:
"The Queen has already given me much."
"That does not matter," said the King. "You must take what _I_ give you. Do you know who I am?"
"No, signor. Are you Garibaldi?"
The King laughed. "No, I am not Garibaldi; I am the King."
This second surprise was too much for the little man, and he almost fell down in his emotion.
What his dreams were that night must have been like one of the Arabian Nights.
REGGIO, _October 17th_.
Dear ----,--Count Spaletti has a very fine _chateau_ (a large park and a beautiful forest), where he and his family live in patriarchal style.
It is the true Italian traditional home-life in every respect.
There is on the farm a large building in which the famous Parmesan cheese is made. We were shown the entire process from the milking of the cows down to the great wheels (which look like millstones) and the completed cheese. Milking is a process with which you are, perhaps, not familiar. It is done with the help of a maiden and a three-legged stool, while the cow goes on chewing the worn-out cud of her last meal, occasionally giving a Cenci-like glance of approbation.
But I won"t tell you about that; I will let you in the secrets of Parmesan-cheese making, so that when you are eating it grated on macaroni you may know what an old stager you have to do with. The milk is put in great vats just as it comes from the _mesdames les vaches_; there it remains, occasionally turned around, not churned, with a wooden paddle, until it becomes a solid substance.
When it is hard enough to handle it is put into large round wooden forms and allowed to remain untouched--for how long do you think? _One year!_ Then they put it under the oil _regime_--that is to say, olive-oil is poured through the cheese at regular intervals until the rind is as black and thick as leather. In four years it is ready to be sold. Each cheese weighs several hundred pounds, is a foot thick, and is as big as a cart-wheel. We eat it every day for luncheon and dinner.
I like it so much better, fresh and straight from the farm (if anything four years old can be called fresh), than when stale and grated.
ROME, _1888_.
My dear Aunt,--Leo XIII."s jubilee has been the means of bringing the world to Rome. Every day during these last weeks we have watched the carts pa.s.sing our house piled with huge cases which contained the presents destined for the Holy Father.
The streets are filled with pilgrims from everywhere. One cannot look in any direction without seeing processions of nuns, priests, and monks of all nations and denominations, from the dingy brown Franciscans, the Capucines with their white mantles displaying their bare legs, to the youthful disciples of the Propaganda in their brilliant scarlet ca.s.socks, not to speak of the _forestiere_ armed with their red Baedekers, who are doing Rome and at the same time _doing_ the Pope"s Jubilee.
Everything and every one on the way to the Vatican.