ld on the Theresien Wiese, a vast meadow on the outskirts
of the city. The ground rises on one side of this by an abrupt step,
some thirty or forty feet high, like the "bench" of a Western river.
This bank is terraced for seats the whole length, or as far down as the
statue of Bavaria; so that there are turf seats, I should judge, for
three quarters of a mile, for a great many thousands of people, who can
look down upon the race-course, the tents, houses, and booths of the
fair-ground, and upon the roof and spires of the city beyond. The statue
is, as you know, the famous bronze Bavaria of Schwanthaler, a colossal
female figure fifty feet high, and with its pedestal a hundred feet
high, which stands in front of the Hall of Fame, a Doric edifice, in the
open colonnades of which are displayed the busts of the most celebrated
Bavarians, together with those of a few poets and scholars who were so
unfortunate as not to be born here. The Bavaria stands with the
right hand upon the sheathed sword, and the left raised in the act of
bestowing a wreath of victory; and the lion of the kingdom is beside
her. This representative being is, of course, hollow. There is room for
eight people in her head, which I can testify is a warm place on a sunny
day; and one can peep out through loopholes and get a good view of the
Alps of the Tyrol. To say that this statue is graceful or altogether
successful would be an error; but it is rather impressive, from its
size, if for no other reason. In the cast of the hand exhibited at the
bronze foundry, the forefinger measures over three feet long.

Although the Fest did not officially begin until Friday, October 12,
yet the essential part of it, the amusements, was well under way on the
Sunday before. The town began to be filled with country people, and the
holiday might be said to have commenced; for the city gives itself up
to the occasion. The new art galleries are closed for some days; but
the collections and museums of various sorts are daily open, gratis; the
theaters redouble their efforts; the concert-halls are in full blast;
there are dances nightly, and masked balls in the Folks' Theater;
country relatives are entertained; the peasants go about the streets
in droves, in a simple and happy frame of mind, wholly unconscious that
they are the oddest-looking guys that have come down from the Middle
Ages; there is music in all the gardens, singing in the cafes, beer
flowing in rivers, and a migh