His goodly conquest of the golden fleece;
His falsèd fayth, and love too lightly flitt;
The wondred Argo, which in venturous peece
First through the Euxine seas bore all the flower of Greece.
Columbus was a Jason of a later time, and there were many other Jasons and would-be Jasons—Cortes, Pizarro, Balboa, Coronado.
The democratic King Alfonso wears his collar, however, with an easy grace, and there is upon his visage a whimsical expression which remains. The Queen looks more like a queen than he does a king. She is wearing the diadem, and she walks like a queen in a picture, her long cream veil of lace enveloping her, trailing downwards and backwards as she walks. Her ladies are in luminous silks, with high combs in their hair, and long lace mantillas like the Queen's, cream-colored, hanging from their combs to the hems of their robes, giving them the mystery of beauty which is part hidden and part revealed.
Following them go the diplomats of all nations, all differently dressed in the full Court dress of their respective nationalities. And they wear their stars and their ribbons, too. There goes the Chinese Ambassador with embroidered golden dragons on his velvet coat; there goes the American Ambassador in spotless lawn and glimmering white tie. The French and the Italian ambassadors look like diplomats, men with old secrets, profound players of human chess; even the English Minister looks as if he knew more than he would ever say, but the American is quite different, a new piece of cloth on a very old garment, as it were upon Joseph's coveted coat of many colors. His fresh, clean-shaven and young face surmounted on its stiff linen collar may have been recruited to diplomacy, and quite likely was, from a guileless Christian brotherhood. Though why turn the light upon him, unless it is because the Power he represents is the power in the New World which to-day affects most the liberties of the children of Spain overseas. Their representatives are here also, of Mexico, of Nicaragua, of Cuba, of Colombia. And here in state comes the "Patriarch de las Indias" himself, and with him the Papal Legate to Spain, the leaders of the Cortes, the Prime Minister, the Government.
All pass, and the halberdiers close up and the public follows, the chosen public asked to witness the monarchs' charity. It is so arranged that all take up their places in the chamber where the poor are waiting, and then the King and Queen come in.
I stand away at the back and look through the veils and screens of the hundreds of ladies' mantillas which hang from the high combs in their hair. It is as if the scene were too gorgeous and had to be viewed through a glass darkly. But yonder are the poor blind waiting in stalls, twelve black-shawled old women waiting for the Queen, twelve empty-eyed men in silk hats waiting for the King. In front of them all stand golden ewers with water, and the ritual of washing commences. One spot of water is dropped on each foot. One rub of the towel to each, and then, stooping, the Queen kisses each woman's big toe; the King kisses each man's big toe, too. Stately Queen Ena never changes her devout expression, but democratic King Alfonso, who rules by smiles, makes a comical face all the while.
Follows the feeding of them. All the grandees and their ladies take part. The Queen takes the center on one side of the room, the King on the other. Vast quantities of viands are brought from the kitchens and pantries of the palace. Begins the Comida de los Pobres, and every helping is enough to feed a family, and every helping is given personally by King and Queen to the chosen poor.