The Spell of Belgium. Isabel Anderson
first important duty was to call on the ladies in the diplomatic circle, and I went in company with Comtesse Clary, the wife of the Austrian Minister, who was the Doyenne of the Diplomatic Corps. I was indebted to the Comtesse de Buisseret for many little points of etiquette that Europeans and diplomats are extremely careful about, but which Americans often do not consider, such as sitting on the left of your carriage and putting your guest on the right. It is also polite of the hostess to ask a distinguished guest to sit on the sofa when calling, and the manœuvering for the proper seat is sometimes as complicated as the Japanese tea ceremony. A stranger, after speaking to the hostess, must ask almost at once to be introduced to the other guests. If they are Belgian ladies, the newcomer is supposed to leave cards within forty-eight hours, and the task of finding the correct names and addresses is a great nuisance, for there are endless members of certain well-known families.
MARIE JOSÉ, THE LITTLE PRINCESS.
The King and Queen were very popular, even in those days, and both were young and good looking. They have three fine children, the two boys bearing the splendid historic titles of the Duc de Brabant and the Comte de Flandre. The youngest of the three is the fascinating little Princess Marie José, who is idolized by the people. His Majesty is the nephew of the former King Leopold, and the Queen is the daughter of His Royal Highness, Charles Theodore, a Bavarian Grand Duke. King Albert, before he succeeded to the throne, had traveled in America, and he always had very pleasant things to say of his visit here. His town residence was the Winter Palace, now a hospital, which was not very far from the Legation; the Summer Palace at Laeken, occupied of late by German officers, is about half an hour’s distance from Brussels by motor.
My private audience with the Queen was granted within a week after my arrival in Brussels. I was told to wear a high-necked gown with a short train, a hat and no veil—veils are not worn before royalty. Her Majesty received me standing, then asked me to sit on the sofa with her. I found her very pretty and sweet. I courtesied and waited for her to speak—as is customary—and then we talked upon different subjects for about twenty minutes, until she closed the interview.
Of the various functions at Court, the balls were the most brilliant. The women wore gowns with rather long trains, quantities of old lace, and superb jewels, and with the gorgeous Hungarian uniforms, the endless orders, and the varied coats of the Chinese, the scene was dazzling. According to the rank of one’s husband, or according to the length of time he had been in Brussels as Minister, the wives took their places in the “circle” which was formed in the “Salon Bleu,” a room for “Serene Highnesses” and diplomats. The King and Queen made a tour of the apartment, speaking to the ladies on one side, the men on the other, as they do at most court functions. As each person courtesied to Their Majesties, it was a pretty sight to see the courtesies follow them down the line like a slow-moving wave.
After this, all the members of the Diplomatic Corps who had any of their compatriots to present, formed another circle in an adjoining room, where again the King and Queen passed down the line, and each one of us made our presentations. Then the royal party and the diplomats passed in procession through the dense throng, crossing the ballroom, a great white and gold hall, to seats on a little raised daïs to the right of the throne chairs, where the diplomats watched the dancing, while to the left the Ministers of State gathered with their wives. During the evening there were repeated processions headed by the King and Queen, in which the Diplomatic Corps joined, first to a winter garden, where tea and simple things were served, then to a supper room all marble and glass, where the table was magnificent with the famous old gold service. After our return to the ballroom there was more dancing. Finally the King and Queen withdrew, and then the guests were at liberty to go home.
The royal dinner given for us at the Winter Palace was delightful. In Belgium every Envoy used to receive the honour of a dinner, at which the King took in the Minister’s wife on his arm, and the Minister escorted the Queen. Their Majesties sat together in the center of the table, the Minister on the right of the Queen, the Minister’s wife on the left of the King. At each Court I believe the custom is a little different. In Italy they give a retiring Ambassador a dinner; in Germany the diplomats are all asked together at one dinner; in Russia the Czar does not eat in the same room with the foreign diplomats and the Ministers, I am told; and in Japan they give a luncheon, where you are placed at the same table with Their Majesties, but members of the Diplomatic Corps do not sit next to the Emperor or Empress, who have on either side of them some member of the royal family.
One of the pleasantest occasions of the winter was our reception and dinner with the Comtesse de Flandre, the mother of the King. We passed up the great staircase with the red carpets, lined with footmen in red coats and knee breeches and wearing their many medals, just as at the King’s palace. At the door the Grand Maître and the lady-in-waiting received the guests in a small room of white and gold, with portraits of the royal family on the walls. The doors were opened and the Countess entered, and spoke to each person. She was elderly and dressed in black, and had a very pleasant, attractive face. The guests, who numbered about forty, included the Spanish, French, English and American representatives. At table, the Grand Maître sat opposite Her Royal Highness, the diplomats had the high seats, and the others down the table were Belgians of different degrees of distinction. We returned to the reception room at the close of the dinner, and the Countess asked us all to be seated, and sat first with one group and then with another.
COMTESSE DE FLANDRE.
Her death occurred, very suddenly, the following autumn, just before our departure for Japan. For court mourning I was obliged to buy a crêpe bonnet, such as was worn for a long period by all the diplomats’ wives and many of the Belgian ladies.
But for the Duke of Fife they wore black for only four days. Mourning for the Duke of Luxembourg was for twenty-one days, the first ten days in black, after that in black and white. Teas and dinners, however, went on just the same.
The funeral of the Countess was most imposing. I watched the procession from a house on the route, but L. went to St. Gudule with the rest of the Diplomatic Corps. Lines of soldiers guarded the streets as the procession, headed by the Garde Civique, passed along in the pouring rain. Following the Garde were troops of cavalry on fine horses, a military band, and a number of ecclesiastics and church dignitaries. The catafalque was borne on a great black and gold car, drawn by eight black horses decorated with plumes, and laden with magnificent wreaths of flowers. The King walked solemnly behind the funeral car, the Crown Prince of Germany on his right, and the Crown Prince of Roumania on his left, with several other lesser royalties following in their train. After these came the special Ambassadors, the Cabinet, Senators and others, in great carriages draped in black, with coachmen and standing footmen in mourning liveries. (The only touch of colour was the brilliant red robes of the Justices as they entered the church.) When the service was over, the whole funeral train was conveyed in carriages to the chapel at Laeken, near the Summer Palace.
The Comtesse de Flandre had been very popular and was greatly missed. She was a kindly and much beloved old lady, and was certainly very active in society, going about everywhere, giving dinners and opening bazars. She showed especial favour to artists and musicians, and was herself a talented musician and etcher of landscapes.
Another ceremony that we saw at St. Gudule’s occurred after the death of the little daughter of one of the Ministers of State, when L. and I attended the Angels’ Mass, which was celebrated in this old church. There was a great crowd in black, and the music in the immense vault with its solemn, stained-glass windows was most impressive. As the mass proceeded, all the men in the audience crowded up towards the altar, and lighted candles were handed them in turn as they formed in procession and passed before the catafalque, the Catholics kissing the patten, and others bowing to it, and then passing in review before the bereaved family, who sat to one side. This, I believe, was for the purpose of showing the mourners who had attended the ceremony, but, as some one complained, women were not allowed any credit for being present. The custom of holding the candles near the face, no doubt, was a relic of the