Behind each ambassador march the secretaries of the embassy.  After the ambassadors come the ministers.  The whole diplomatic corps moves from an anteroom into an apartment in which the prince of Wales awaits them.  The prince and several of his brothers, his cousins, the duke of Cambridge and the prince of Teck, stand up in a row like an old-fashioned spelling class.  Next to the prince, on his right, stands Viscount Sidney, the lord chamberlain, who calls off each detachment as it approaches—­“Austrian ambassador,” “the Spanish minister,” “the United States minister,” etc.  The prince shakes hands with the head of the embassy or mission, and bows to the secretaries.  When the diplomatists, cabinet ministers and household officers have all made their bow, it is the turn of British society.  The diplomatic circle, and such as have the entree to it, remain in the room:  the Englishmen pass out.  The lord chamberlain in a loud voice calls off the name of each person as he appears, so that each comer is, as it were, labeled and ticketed.  The observer learns quite as much as if the lord chamberlain was the verger and was showing off his collection.

One may often guess the rank or importance of the courtier by the manner of his reception.  If he shakes hands with the prince, you may know he is somebody—­if he shakes hands with all five or six of the princes, you may know he is a very great person.  But if he gives the princes a wide berth, bows hastily and glances furtively at them, and runs by skittishly, then you may know that he is some half-pay colonel or insignificant civil servant.  Something, too, may be inferred from the length of time the lord chamberlain takes to decipher the name of the comer on the slip of paper which is handed him.  If he scans it long and hard, and holds it a good way from him and says “Major Te—­e—­e—­bosh—­bow,” then in a loud voice, “Major Tebow,” you will be safe in thinking that Major Tebow is not one of the greatest of warriors or largest of landed proprietors.

The ceremony lasts an hour and a half or two hours, and during the whole of it the talk and hand-shaking among the diplomatists go on very pleasantly.  There is a great deal of esprit de corps among them, and perfect equality.  Attaches, secretaries and ministers walk about through the room and exchange greetings.  The ambassadors are rather statelier:  these do not mix themselves with the crowd of diplomatists, but stand up apart, all five in a row, leaning against the wall, chatting easily, looking quite like another row of princes, a sort of after-glow of the royalties.