The Emperor, the King, and Prince Albert, went to the Duke of
Devonshire's _dejeuner_ at Chiswick. The Duke's mansion and gardens
are proverbial as evidences of his taste, magnificence, and princely
expenditure. All the nobility in London at this period were present.
The royal party were received with distinguished attention by the
noble host, and his hospitality was exhibited in a style worthy of
his guests and himself. While the suite of _salons_ were thrown open
for the general company, the royal party were received in a _salon_
which had been decorated as a Turkish tent. Bands of the guards
played in the gardens, a quadille band played in the ball-room, and
the fineness of the weather gave the last charm to a _fête_ prepared
with equal elegance and splendour. We doubt whether Europe can
exhibit any open air festivity that can compete with a _dejeuner_ at
Chiswick. The gardens of some of the continental palaces are larger,
but they want the finish of the English garden. Their statues and
decorations are sometimes fine; but they want the perfect and
exquisite neatness which gives an especial charm to English
horticulture. The verdure of the lawns, the richness and variety of
the flowers, and the general taste displayed, in even the most minute
and least ornamental features, render the English garden wholly
superior, in fitness and in beauty, to the gardens of the continental
sovereigns and nobility.
In the evening, the Queen and her guests went to the Italian opera.
The house was greatly, and even hazardously crowded. It is said that,
in some instances, forty guineas was paid for a box. But whether this
may be an exaggeration or not, the sum would have been well worth
paying, to escape the tremendous pressure in the pit. After all, the
majority of the spectators were disappointed in their principal
object, the view of the royal party. They all sat far back in the
box, and thus, to three-fourths of the house, were completely
invisible. In this privacy, for which it is not easy to account, and
which it would have been so much wiser to have avoided, the audience
were long kept in doubt whether the national anthem was to be sung.
At last, a stentorian voice from the gallery called for it. A general
response was made by the multitude; the curtain rose, and God save
the Queen was sung with acclamation. The ice thus broken, it was
followed by the Russian national anthem, a firm, rich, and bold
composition. The Emperor was said to have shed tears at the
unexpected sound of that noble chorus, which brought back the
recollection of his country at so vast a distance from home. But if
these anthems had not been thus accidentally performed, the royal
party would have lost a much finer display than any thing which they
could have seen on the stage--the rising of the whole audience in the
boxes--all the fashionable world in _gala_, in its youth, beauty, and
ornament, seen at full sight, while the chorus was on the stage.