The Spell of Belgium. Isabel Anderson
be recognized. I believe it was also a common practice of old to drop an oblation in the plate as one passed.
To return to more cheerful subjects, we had the honour of dining with the Duchesse d’Ursel one evening. The d’Ursels, the de Lignes, and the de Mérodes (Comtesse de Mérode, we hear, was arrested during the war, as she was the bearer of important papers) are some of the great names in Belgium, counting, as they do, one thousand years of “lignage.” Several members of the d’Ursel family lived in the same house. The Duchess Dowager received at the end of one wing, and the younger Duchess in her salon at the end of another, while the Comtesse Wolfgang d’Ursel was at home in still a third. So one made a series of visits without going out of the main door—quite a hospitable way of entertaining one’s friends. The old Palais d’Ursel remained alone in that part of the city which was being rebuilt with great government structures—for King Leopold promised the old Duke that his historic residence should be allowed to stand, even if the other buildings around it had to be torn down. It is long and low-lying, and mediæval in appearance. The dimly lighted rooms, with their old tapestries and quaint pieces of antique furniture, were of another age, dignified and quiet. Here we met such old-world looking people—the men with Roman noses and waxed mustachios and elegant manners. The Duchess’ second son was Comte Wolfgang d’Ursel, a name that suggests the Middle Ages and a great heroic figure, although in reality he was a small man. I regret to add that he has been killed in the war.
PALAIS D'URSEL.
Our dinner with Prince Charles de Ligne was also enjoyable. No family of the Belgian nobility has a prouder record than this. To name only a part of their titles, they were barons before the year 1100; they have been marshals and grand seneschals of Hainault since 1350; counts of the Empire and hereditary constables of Flanders since the sixteenth century; and were made princes of the Spanish Netherlands in the seventeenth; while “the glorious order of the Golden Fleece,” says Poplimont, in his “Heraldry,” “has been from its creation an appendage absolute, so to speak, of the house of Ligne.”
Although the palace was so stately, and the doorkeeper wore a decoration on his livery, and the footmen were in maroon and shorts, with showy little gold shoulder-knots, the dinner was simple and well done, and so like one at home that it was really delightful. We passed up the fine staircase, with the balcony opening above and the plants as in a winter garden, and through salons in which chairs were arranged in the formal way that they affect abroad. The Prince and the Princess received us cordially, and, after dinner, we went into a small fumoir in which were hung tapestries that had been in the family for four centuries.
We were taken one day by the Princesse de Ligne to visit the palace of the d’Arenbergs in Brussels, which was the finest in the city next to the King’s. The great staircase was the most beautiful that I have ever seen—in its proportions and in the splendour of its marbles. The rooms were palatial, and there were so many wonderful tapestries and famous pictures! We saw the suite with a private entrance for royalties, where the Kaiser’s son Adelbert had been a guest a few days before. Notwithstanding all this glory the bathrooms had tubs for which the water had to be heated by gas in a stove. The old wing of the palace, which had belonged to Count Egmont in the sixteenth century, was burned some time ago, and many of his possessions were destroyed, notably the desk at which he wrote. The Duchesse d’Arenberg is the daughter of the Princesse de Ligne. The Duke is a German, and I have been told that before the war he removed all their superb collection to Germany. It is reported that extraordinary things went on beneath that roof previous to the invasion.
Among the old nobility of Belgium is a member called Comte Vilain XIIII. There is a curious tradition in regard to the origin of this title. When Louis XIV was in Belgium, during his Flemish campaign, it was discovered one evening that there were but thirteen to sit down at his table. The King was too superstitious to allow this, so sent out an aide to find some one to make the fourteenth. Of course only noblemen sat at the King’s table, but as the aide was unable to find any one of suitable rank he brought in a wayfarer, or villain. The King at once ennobled him, calling him Comte Vilain XIIII, and the title is still written in this way.
M. CARTON DE WIART, MINISTER OF JUSTICE.
Of the many “official” dinners that we attended one was with the Minister of the Interior, M. Berryer, who is a brilliant man. We also dined with Minister of State Beernaert, one of the wonderful old men of Europe, eighty-three years old when we were there, but quite alert and still an able statesman.
Another dinner was given for us by M. Carton de Wiart, the Minister of Justice, and a writer of much ability. He was a member of the commission that came over here from Belgium in the autumn of 1914. This dinner was rather different from others that we had attended, for it was made up of the deputies. It was quite interesting to meet this entirely different class of men, whom I found to be very intelligent. Among the guests was a nice old man, whom all the deputies of the Right called “Uncle.” There were also dinners, of course, with the Minister of Foreign Affairs and other officials, as well as the diplomats, all of which I remember with pleasure.
The reception to the foreign ministers at a quarter-past ten New Year’s morning was postponed on account of the King’s indisposition. So L. went off to write in the King’s and the Queen’s books, which had to be protected by the crimson-liveried servants against the throng of people who were struggling to reach them.
Among other functions the balls at the “Concert Noble” were very enjoyable; the music was good, and the vast assembly room was handsome and not crowded. The lofty suite of salons made an effective setting for the dancing. One night when we were there, the entrance was lined with men in gold and black, and the King and Queen came in, followed by gentlemen-in-waiting. They took their seats upon a raised daïs, after walking through the rooms, and watched the dancing for a time. When supper was ready everybody stood about, and the King and Queen talked with different people.
The life of the American Minister in Brussels, even in time of peace, was by no means all a round of social gaieties. While nothing of the greatest or most pressing importance came up in our relations with Belgium, yet there were questions of commerce and questions of policy to be kept constantly in mind, and reports to be made from time to time to the home Government, not to speak of countless interruptions from Americans who, for one reason or another, were in need of the kind offices of their representative. For instance, according to Belgian law, vagabonds without money, but who might be absolutely innocent of crime, could be sent to the workhouse for two years, and sometimes American sailors landing at Antwerp would be left there without a cent. Our kind-hearted Consul General used his influence to have them set free; but then what was to be done with them?
Among our countrymen who came to the Legation, however, were many welcome visitors and not a few whom we had met in far distant parts of the world. There was Governor Pack, of the mountain province in the Philippines. The last time L. had seen him, he was ruling supreme among the head-hunting Igorrotes at Bontoc. With a small handful of brave and resourceful men as lieutenants, he had in a few years brought those extraordinary aborigines into such willing subjection that their loyalty to the American was really devotion. He had been visiting the families of that company of wonderful Belgian priests who were doing so much good in his far-away mountain home—sons of rich parents, who had taken up the work in a spirit of pure self-sacrifice.
It is a curious thing that the men of affairs in Belgium—often some of the Ministers of State and the captains of industry—who were broad, up-to-date men, forceful and interesting, one seldom met socially. Even some of the King’s entourage could not join the Cercle du Parc, the most exclusive club in Brussels.
I had a reception day every Tuesday, beginning in January, besides which there were various times at which we received diplomats and titled Belgians by themselves. One of the most interesting figures was the Papal Nuncio, who came in his robes, with magenta cape and cap and gloves, wearing his ring outside. The concierge and a chauffeur waved his motor under the porte-cochère; two servants