The Spell of Belgium

by Isabel Anderson

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.

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.