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.
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 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.
