Meanwhile, the barrier was thrown open to the knights in their magnificent dresses. Divided into quadrilles, they rode around the lists, and in passing before the queen they saluted by lowering their lances. All wore the colours of their dames in the form of a scarf, a veil, a knot of ribbons, or a buckle. After that, they put their horses through the boldest and most graceful evolutions. When that warlike procession was concluded, to the sound of blasts from the combined bands of the regiments of the Guards and the cheering of the crowd, they retired to await the signal for the jousts.
A herald-of-arms, taking his stand in the centre of the arena, announced the opening of the tournament, and added in a loud voice: ‘In the name of the king, and according to the laws of the kingdom, it is forbidden to any subject or alien to give or to accept a challenge to single combat under no matter what pretext. It would be senseless to imagine that an enclosure intended for the display of games of skill could with impunity serve for the shedding of blood in the very presence of the queen.’
The proclamation was received with signs of general approval. The black banner of the unknown champion was torn down, and contemptuously flung over the barrier. After which, Gustavus rode up to the Comte de Torstenson, who had taken up his position at the entrance to the lists, and who wore a brilliant suit of armour, with a magnificent breastplate, inlaid with gold, over a coat of double mail, and whose hand grasped a heavy battle-axe, which was lowered as his king drew near.
‘Comte de Torstenson,’ said Gustavus, holding out his hand, ‘we appreciate your courage, and we thank you for it, but we reserve it for a more noble opportunity.’
The lists were declared open. The king said in a loud voice, ‘Let every one do his duty.’ Comte Fersen in his capacity of judge replied: ‘Go.’ Then the different games commenced and were kept up for four hours. As at the Vienna carrousel, the knights vied with each other in showing their skill, their valour, and agility. The weather was magnificent; its beauty seemed to enhance the general enthusiasm. Scarfs fluttered in the air, joyous applause and murmurs of praise broke forth at every moment from lips as red as the rose, while flowers were flung by hands trembling with emotion and fell at the competitors’ feet.
The contest was a long one; the champions vying with each other in skill. Finally, Comte Piper was adjudged the victor. The judge and the heralds proclaimed his name and conducted him to the feet of the queen, who, while complimenting him, vested him with the scarf, the reward of his skill, and held out the hand that embroidered the ornament for him to kiss. The trumpets sounded a joyous blast, while cheers broke forth greeting the victorious young champion, who was moreover pelted with flowers. His banner was hung upon a car drawn by two milk-white reindeer richly caparisoned: Comte Fersen had sent for them to his estate in Lapland to offer them to the king. The car was escorted by the whole of the Court across the park to the banqueting hall at the castle. Several tables had been spread; the king presided over that occupied by his family and the victorious knight; the chancellor and the grand officers of the crown presided over the others. Refreshments were served to the people in the garden, and when night set in, the gaiety that prevailed on the immense lawn and in the bosky dells glittering with lights invested the fête with the air of a family gathering.
After the banquet we went to the beautiful opera-house to hear the lyrical drama of Gustave Wasa, the music of which was by Piccini, and the libretto by the late king. Finally, a general illumination of the gardens, a torchlight procession, and enormous fireworks fitly wound up the day, which doubtless was among the small number of happy ones reserved by fate for Gustavus-Adolphus IV.
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The guests of the Princesse Jean de Lichtenstein had listened attentively to the particulars of a fête which apparently did not belong to our own times. The listeners, and especially the fair sex, had probably expected a sequel to the challenge of the knight of the black banner, which sequel, of course, was to take the form of a ‘combat to the death.’ The pacific termination of the tournament seemed to cause more or less of a disappointment. I ventured to remark that neither the tournament at Stockholm nor the carrousel in Vienna could compare with the games enacted on the bridge of Pisa, which, from the standpoint of danger and tenacity of purpose, presented the most perfect image of the old wars in Italy of the Middle Ages. No one present but myself had ever witnessed these games, and I was asked to convey an idea of them.
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