The royal family go in to supper through a lane of guests. The supper-room is adorned with the gold plate bought by George IV., and many very fine pieces of plate given by other monarchs. The eatables and drinkables are what they would be at any great ball.
The prettiest entertainment of the jubilee year was, however, the Queen's garden-party. No one had seen that lovely park behind Buckingham Palace for eighteen years; then it was used for the garden-party given to the Khedive of Egypt. Now it was filled by a most picturesque group. The Indian princes with all their jewels, their turbans, their robes, their dark, handsome faces, stood at the foot of a grand staircase which runs from the palace to the green turf. Every other man was a king, a prince, a nobleman, a great soldier, a statesman, a diplomate, a somebody.
The women were all, of course, beautifully dressed in summer costume; and the grounds, full of ancient trees and fountains, artificial lakes with swans, marquees with refreshments, were as pretty as only a royal English park can be.
Presently we heard the sound of the bagpipes, and a procession headed by some dancing Scotchmen came along. It was the Queen, with all her children and grandchildren, ladies-in-waiting, and many monarchs, amongst whom marched Queen Kapiolani of the Sandwich Islands. The Queen walked with a cane, the Prince of Wales by her side. They all stopped repeatedly and spoke to their guests on either side; then the younger members of the family led the way to the refreshment tents, where a truly regal buffet was spread.
There was much talk, much music, much laughter, no stiffness. It was real hospitality. In one of the windows of the palace stood looking out the Crown Prince of Germany, later on to be the noble Emperor Frederic, even then feeling the pressure of that malady which in another year was to kill him. He who had been, in the procession of Princes on the great day, so important and so handsome a figure, was on this day a silent observer. The Queen after this gave an evening party to all the royalties, and the ambassadors, and many invited guests.
The hospitality of the Queen is, of course, regal, but her dinners must of a necessity be formal. General Grant mentioned his disappointment that he did not sit next her, when she invited him to Windsor, but she had one of her children on either side, and he came next to the Princess Beatrice.
The entertainments at Marlborough House are much less formal. The Prince of Wales, the most genial and hospitable of men, cannot always pen up his delightful cordiality behind the barriers of rank.
As for the King and Queen of Italy, they do not try to restrain their cordiality. The Court of Italy is most easy-going, democratic, and agreeable, in spite of its thousand years of grandeur. The favoured guest who is to be presented receives a card to the cercle, on a certain Monday evening. The card prescribes low-necked dress, and any colour but black. To drive to the Quirinal Palace on a moonlight night in Rome is not unpleasant.
The grand staircase, all covered with scarlet carpet, was lined with gigantic cuirassiers in scarlet, who stood as motionless as statues. We entered a grand hall frescoed by Domenichino. How small we felt under these giant figures. We passed on to another salon, frescoed by Julio Romano, so on to another where a handsome cavalier, the Prince Vicovara, received our cards, and opening a door, presented us to the Marchesa Villamarina, the Queen's dearest friend and favourite lady-in-waiting. We were arranged in rows around a long and handsome room. Presently a little movement at the door, and the deep courtesies of the Princess Brancaccio and the Princess Vicovara, both Americans, told us that the Queen had entered.
Truly she is a royal beauty, a wonder on a throne. An accomplished scholar, a thoughtful woman, Marguerite of Savoy is the rose of the nineteenth century; her smile keeps Italy together. She is the sweetest, the most beautiful of all the queens, and as she walks about accompanied by her ladies, who introduce every one, she speaks to each person in his or her own language; she is mistress of ten languages. After she had said a few gracious words, the Queen disappeared, and the Marchesa Villamarina asked us to take some refreshments, saying, "I hope we shall see you on Thursday."