DIPLOMATIC LIFE
The American Legation in Brussels was in the Quartier Leopold, on one of
the many hills on which the city was built. It was owned by the Comte
d'Assche, not by our Government, but it had been used as the American
Legation when Mr. Bellamy Storer was Minister, and after we left it was
also the Legation under Mr. Marburg. Mr. Brand Whitlock, the present
Minister, however, took another house near by, I understand.
The Palais d'Assche was one of the handsomest legations in Brussels,
having a park in front and a pretty garden behind. We moved into the
Legation immediately after my arrival in Brussels, although the workmen
were still in the house. I describe the Palais d'Assche because it is so
different from our American homes.
Just within the passage leading to the courtyard, which was entered
through an arch that could be closed with doors, and down a few
steps, were the rooms of the concierge and his wife. To the left of
the passage were the offices and the grand staircase, to the right the
private entrance and my husband's suite. At the head of the stairs
leading to the second floor, and on the garden side, was the library,
which was made homelike with our books, pictures and rugs. As this room
had a huge fireplace and a big window, giving us all the light possible,
it was really cheerful, and we spent most of our time in it; in fact, we
always dined here when we had no guests. I remember especially these
evenings alone when we put out the lights and enjoyed the moon shining
through the great window, and listened to the church bell that echoed
through the wide chimney.
[Illustration: AMERICAN LEGATION, BRUSSELS.]
My bedroom and boudoir were also on this floor, and opened into one of
the great salons. The bedroom, which had been the present Queen's
sleeping room, was very large, and was hung in rose-coloured brocade. It
contained a few superb pieces of carved furniture with brass trimmings
and inlaid crowns. I had the comfort of an open fire in the boudoir;
indeed, I needed its cheeriness, for the sky was always gray, and we
were forced to turn on the lights even early in the morning.
On the garden side of the house was a long gallery, into which the
dining room broke in the center. The reception rooms were square with
high ceilings and mostly finished in white and gold. The house had been
partly done over by a French architect, and the interior decorations
were very handsome. At one end of the palace, passing up over the
legation offices, was the grand staircase, which was opened only on
special occasions. The heating was very imperfect, according to American
ideas, for although there was a furnace, the ceilings were so high that
the heat made little impression.
At the foot of the garden, behind the house, were the stables and the
garage. From the porte-cochère the drive passed round both sides down to
the stables, and in the center was a lawn with a screen of shrubbery.
There were some handsome large trees, and several smaller ones that were
trained upon trellises by the side walls, so that it promised to be a
pleasant, shady place in the summer time.
By dint of much hurry and rush the house was gotten in order for
Christmas Day. The workmen were in their last entrenchments on the great
stairs on the 23d, and then fortunately disappeared forever. Our few
belongings were quickly put in place. The tapestries and pictures
were hung in the salons, and at last the Christmas tree was lighted.
[Illustration: LIBRARY, AMERICAN LEGATION, BRUSSELS.]
In Belgium, very little is made of Christmas. Presents are given on St.
Nicholas' Day, but their real celebration is at New Year's. We did our
best, however, to make it seem like a New England Christmas. As a part
of our diplomatic duties, we gave a reception for the Americans in
Brussels. About seventy-five came, including every sort of person. L.
and I received in the library, where the tree lighted up prettily, the
music in the ballroom was good, and our guests danced and ate, and I
think enjoyed themselves.
We had our share of servant troubles at the Legation. At one time we
were on the point of sending away our chef, but he wrote L. a little
note saying that he felt he must leave us and permit a more "valiant
one" to undertake our large household. As we had already telegraphed to
England for another, this was not so unfortunate as it might seem.
At another time our concierge, whom we thought a model of good
behaviour, "ran amuck," and we had a series of scenes. He began to talk
incoherently in the kitchen, and to complain because the automobiles
went in and out so often, declaring that the chauffeurs were in league
against him. Then he appeared with his coat off and rushed about the
house with a loaded revolver in each hand, challenging the men servants
to fight. Later, as he would not come when summoned, my husband took him
by the coat collar and put him out of the house. After he had been away
three days and the pistols had been safely hidden, we decided, for
various reasons, to give him another chance, and, curiously enough, his
conduct was perfect all winter.
My 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 manoeuvering 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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 days when the churches were so dark that it was only in this manner
that people could 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.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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 opened the doors _à
double battant_; and L. met him and escorted him upstairs, where we had
tea and cakes.
On Washington's birthday we had another reception for Americans. The
chancery was closed, the Stars and Stripes waved in all their glory
over the door, and flowers were arranged around the bust of Washington
in its niche high between the windows on the main landing of the
staircase. We received about one hundred and forty guests--men, women,
and children of all ages--in the room at the head of the stairs, where
some of the tapestries were hung. It was a most democratic
assembly--young schoolgirls, teachers, most of the regular "colony,"
American women who had married Belgians--and they seemed to enjoy the
dancing, to American airs. On the table in the dining-room was a
splendid cake of many stories, all flag-bedecked--every one of the flags
was proudly carried off before the afternoon was over.
For a change from the official routine and the formal entertainments, we
often started out on a rainy evening and walked the glistening
boulevards down into the town, so gay with its brilliantly lighted shops
and restaurants. Having been duly advised by our Secretary of Legation
of a respectable place to which diplomats "might" go, we sought it out
and had happy little dinners together, forgetting our troubles for the
time.
Perhaps the most delightful day I spent in Brussels was at Laeken. The
Summer Palace stood on a hill overlooking the city, and was built of
gray stone in Renaissance style. The greenhouses, which were erected by
old King Leopold, were supposed to be the largest in the world. One
could walk for miles through covered glass walks, with climbing
geraniums and fuchsias hanging from the roof and heliotrope filling the
air with its perfume.
The place was at its best for the royal garden party in May. As the
invitations said two o'clock, we had luncheon early and set out at half
after one. Soon we were careering up the fine avenue du Parc Royal,
zigzagging from one side to the other as different officials gave us
conflicting directions. Farther on, the road skirted the splendid park
of Laeken, and we could look out over wide sweeps of lawn with great
masses of trees and artificial waters winding in and out. Fine vistas
led the eye up to the palace, which stood in a more formal setting of
garden and terraces.
At the great gate in front of the palace, grenadiers in bearskin shakos
stood guard, with uniformed officials and red-coated servants in gold
lace and plumed hats. The palace was still unfinished, but looked very
impressive. About it were great clumps of rhododendrons and magnificent
lilacs.
The carriages stopped at the orangery, which had a long façade of stone
columns and glass. Alighting, we passed into a perfect wonderland. To
each side of us stretched a wing of a palace of crystal, with three rows
of enormous orange trees arcading promenades.
Beyond this we passed into the great palm house, a vast dome with palms
so huge that they seemed to lose themselves in the height of the
rotunda. The people strolling beneath them looked quite like pygmies in
contrast.
All the parterre was laid out with bright-coloured flowers. In a paved
space in the center was held the royal circle. When the King and Queen
arrived, the people arranged themselves along the sides--the Diplomatic
Corps, the ministry, and prominent Belgians--and a band played gaily
while Their Majesties came down the line. The scene was really
fairylike.
The circle lasted a long time, and we were beginning to weary of
standing, when the royal party finally set out to make a tour of the
greenhouses. The rest of us followed, glad of a chance to see the
wonders of which we had heard so much--and wonders they were indeed, for
who ever saw before a lovely chapel built entirely of glass?
First we passed through a wide, two-aisled gallery with a forest of
palms above and a rich display of pink and rose-coloured azaleas below.
Then down steps into long, narrow passageways that were a bower as far
as the eye could reach, gorgeous with climbing geraniums and lovely
cinerarias. These galleries led one hither and thither, now in one
direction, now in another, till both eye and mind were dazed with
pleasure. We passed through tunnels of blooming flowers, and there was
no end to the astonishing glory of colour and beauty.
Here and there were little grottoes with mirrors, and fountains
plashing; then more alleys, and another great house all aflame with
azaleas. Steps led to the door of a pavilion. Here it was that King
Leopold II had died.
Our progress was not rapid, as the King and Queen stopped frequently to
speak to different people. But we finally made the tour and returned to
the great rotunda, where I felt as if I were standing in an unreal
world, inside a giant soap-bubble of many colours.