The Spell of Belgium

THE winter which I spent in Belgium proved a unique niche in my experience, for it showed me the daily life and characteristics of a people of an old civilization as I could never have known them from casual meetings in the course of ordinary travel.

My husband first heard of his nomination as Minister to Belgium over the telephone. We were at Beverly, which was the summer capital that year, when he was told that his name was on the list sent from Washington. Although he had been talked of for the position, still in a way his appointment came as a surprise, and a very pleasant one, too, for we had been assured that "Little Paris" was an attractive post, and that Belgium was especially interesting to diplomats on account of its being the cockpit of Europe. After receiving this first notification, L. called at the "Summer White House" in Beverly, and later went to Washington for instructions. It was not long before we were on our way to the new post.

Through a cousin of my husband's who had married a Belgian, the Comte de Buisseret, we were able to secure a very nice house in Brussels, the Palais d'Assche. As it was being done over by the owners, I remained in Paris during the autumn, waiting until the work should be finished. My husband, of course, went directly to Brussels, and through his letters I was able to gain some idea of what our life there was to be. He lived for the time being in the Legation which had been rented by the former Minister. Through another cousin, who had been American Minister there a few years before, he secured much valuable information regarding his new mission. I say new, because he had been in the Service for twelve years before this-at first, as Second Secretary of Legation and afterward of Embassy in London; then as First Secretary of Embassy and Chargé d'Affaires in Rome.

The royal family had not returned to town, so he was compelled to wait for an opportunity to present his credentials. Finally, however, he received a notification that the King of the Belgians would grant him a special audience at eleven o'clock on the eighteenth of November.

THE ROYAL PALACE, BRUSSELS.

The ceremonial proved to be most interesting, everything perfectly done and very impressive. Two state carriages of gala, accompanied by outriders, came to the Legation a few minutes before eleven, bringing Colonel Derouette, commanding officer of the Grenadiers, who was met at the door by the Secretary of Legation, Mr. Grant-Smith. L. was escorted to the great state coach, "which swung on its springs like a channel-crossing steamer."

The steps were folded up, the door closed, the footmen jumped up behind, and the little procession of prancing horses in gorgeous harness, with two outriders on high-steppers, proceeded. Following this carriage-which, by the way, was elaborately decorated and gilded, and had lamps at all four corners-came the second state carriage with the Secretary and the Military Attaché.

Passing through the broad, clean streets of the city, they soon entered the wide square before the palace. This building, which is almost entirely new within the last few years, stood behind parterres of sunken gardens, beyond a broad place, with the old park opposite, through which there was a vista with the House of Parliament at the other end.

The guard of carabineers was turned out as the procession passed, and their bugles sounded the salute. The state carriages continued on through the fast-gathering crowd, crossed the sunken garden, and entered the porte-cochère of the palace, where a group of officials stood at attention. L. was escorted up to the entrance and into the great gallery, where were the major-domo and a line of footmen in royal red livery.

At the foot of the grand staircase stood two officers in full uniform, one wearing the delightfully old-fashioned, short green embroidered jacket and the cherry-coloured trousers of the smart Guides Regiment. When they had been presented, they turned and led the way up the great staircase. At the top another aide of the King, Baron de Moor, a strikingly handsome man who looked stunning in his uniform and decorations, met them. Then in continued procession they passed through great rooms, which were simple yet splendidly palatial in style, with fine paintings and frescos, but with little furniture.

Finally L. came to a room where the King's Master of Ceremonies, Comte Jean de Mérode, came forward, and was presented. He disappeared through a door, saying that he would go and take the King's orders, and returned immediately with the word that His Majesty was ready.

"The doors were opened à double battant by servants standing at each side," L. wrote in his letter describing the audience; "I was rather taken by surprise, for the room into which I was being ushered was a vast apartment, and not like the small state rooms in which on previous occasions I had been introduced for reception by royalty. The officials took their positions at a distance, in a semi-circle, so that any conversation could have been entirely confidential. I advanced, making my three bows.

"The King is a tall, fine, clean-looking man. He was dressed in simple military uniform, wearing but one star."