But, when he has arrived, things again come to a stand; and we wait for an hour, and watch the thickening of the clouds, while the king goes from this to that delighted dignitary on the stand and converses.At the end of this time, there is a movement.A white dog has got into the course, and runs up and down between the walls of people in terror, headed off by soldiers at either side of the grand stand, and finally, becoming desperate, he makes a dive for the royal pavilion.The consternation is extreme.The people cheer the dog and laugh: a white-handed official, in gold lace, and without his hat, rushes out to "shoo" the dog away, but is unsuccessful; for the animal dashes between his legs, and approaches the royal and carpeted steps.More men of rank run at him, and he is finally captured and borne away; and we all breathe freer that the danger to royalty is averted.At one o'clock six youths in white jackets, with clubs and coils of rope, had stationed themselves by the pavilion, but they did not go into action at this juncture; and I thought they rather enjoyed the activity of the great men who kept off the dog.
At length there was another stir; and the king descended from the rear of his pavilion, attended by his ministers, and moved about among the people, who made way for him, and uncovered at his approach.He spoke with one and another, and strolled about as his fancy took him.I suppose this is called mingling with the common people.After he had mingled about fifteen minutes, he returned, and took his place on the steps in front of the pavilion; and the distribution of prizes began.First the horses were led out; and their owners, approaching the king, received from his hands the diplomas, and a flag from an attendant.Most of them were peasants;and they exhibited no servility in receiving their marks of distinction, but bowed to the king as they would to any other man, and his majesty touched his cocked hat in return.Then came the prize-cattle, many of them led by women, who are as interested as their husbands in all farm matters.Everything goes off smoothly, except there is a momentary panic over a fractious bull, who plunges into the crowd; but the six white jackets are about him in an instant, and entangle him with their ropes.
This over, the gates again open, and the gay cavalcade that has been so long in sight approaches.First a band of musicians in costumes of the Middle Ages; and then a band of pages in the gayest apparel, bearing pictured banners and flags of all colors, whose silken luster would have been gorgeous in sunshine; these were followed by mounted heralds with trumpets, and after them were led the running horses entered for the race.The banners go up on the royal stand, and group themselves picturesquely; the heralds disappear at the other end of the list; and almost immediately the horses, ridden by young jockeys in stunning colors, come flying past in a general scramble.
There are a dozen or more horses; but, after the first round, the race lies between two.The course is considerably over an English mile, and they make four circuits; so that the race is fully six-miles,--a very hard one.It was a run in a rain, however, which began when it did, and soon forced up the umbrellas.The vast crowd disappeared under a shed of umbrellas, of all colors,--black, green, red, blue; and the effect was very singular, especially when it moved from the field: there was then a Niagara of umbrellas.The race was soon over: it is only a peasants' race, after all; the aristocratic races of the best horses take place in May.It was over.The king's carriage was brought round, the people again shouted, the cannon roared, the six black horses reared and plunged, and away he went.
After all, says the artist, "the King of Bavaria has not much power.""You can see," returns a gentleman who speaks English, "just how much he has: it is a six-horse power."On other days there was horse-trotting, music production, and for several days prize-shooting.The latter was admirably conducted: the targets were placed at the foot of the bank; and opposite, I should think not more than two hundred yards off, were shooting-houses, each with a room for the register of the shots, and on each side of him closets where the shooters stand.Signal-wires run from these houses to the targets, where there are attendants who telegraph the effect of every shot.Each competitor has a little book; and he shoots at any booth he pleases, or at all, and has his shots registered.There was a continual fusillade for a couple of days; but what it all came to, I cannot tell.I can only say, that, if they shoot as steadily as they drink beer, there is no other corps of shooters that can stand before them.
INDIAN SUMMER
We are all quiet along the Isar since the October Fest; since the young king has come back from his summer castle on the Starnberg See to live in his dingy palace; since the opera has got into good working order, and the regular indoor concerts at the cafes have begun.There is no lack of amusements, with balls, theaters, and the cheap concerts, vocal and instrumental.I stepped into the West Ende Halle the other night, having first surrendered twelve kreuzers to the money-changer at the entrance,--double the usual fee, by the way.
