Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-03-15
CONTINUED From last rssue)
The National Palace

Inc INdtlOIldI didCe
At 10 o'clock Mr. Gibson and
drove to the National Palace. Sill
Francis Villiers drove up in his motor
just as we arrived, and | entered with
him and we went slowly up the red
| carpeted staircase together to the dip
lomatic gallery, Sir Francis heavy
with care. The Sale des Seancis
presented a scene one would not sooI
forget. All around the galleries were
crowded, the wives of the ministers in
seats opposite us, though none Of the
ladies Of the diplomatic corps were
there. Below, the senators and depu-
ties, all in formal black, some seated
quietly waiting, others in excited
groups, discussing the ultimatum oil
last night and the invasion of the land
The Due d'Resel was there in the uni
form of the Guides. The ministers
after their sleepless nights, we're on
their benches, the Baron de BroCque-
Vile, Messrs. DavignOn, COrtOn dc
Wharf; Hymans, the new liberal Min
istre dictate, and Vandervelde, the
new socialist Ministre d'Etat, receiv-
ing congratulations. The hall is a
hemicycle, with columns all around
not unlike the chamber of the supreme
court, the old senate at Washington
though of course larger. A red and
gold fauteuil was placed for the king
on the presidents dias; overhead IN
der the statue of Leopold l was the
escutcheon of Belgium and a trophy
of flags of Belgium and the congo. The
diplomatic tribune was hung with Bel
II. he
floor before the presidents desk a
great green table was set, and as ii
were seated the doyen and the gref'
fiers. Gold fauteuils were set for the
queen and the royal family.
The colleagues we're gathering in
these now changed conditions; the last
time we were assembled was at Ste,
Gudule, scarcely fortnight before,
at the TIE Deum to celebrate the found
ing of the Belgian dynasty, now so
rudely shaken. Mr.. Won Below, of
course, was not there, nor the Count
Clary, the Austrian minister. We
waited many minutes, then there came
through the open window the strains
of band and suddenly a voice cried:
LA Reine!" ("The queen.O
The deputies sprang to their feet,
and against the solid black of their
frock coats there f1uttered the white
Of the handkerchiefs they waved as
they shouted:
'Vive la Refine! Vive la Reine!"
("Long live the queen.")
And there was a charming majesty
all in white, lovely and gracious, just
entered the chamber below to our left,
acknowledging this loyal salute with
sweeping courtesies right and left. She
had modest suite-the Countess
Henricourt de Grunne. la Grande Mai
tresse, in a violet gown, and the two
little princes, Leopold, the duke OF
Brabant, the heir apparent, and
Charles, Count of Flanders, in black
satin suits that day instead of the
costumes of gray they usually wore,
and the elfish little Princess Merle
Jose.
The King Arrives
The queen took the golden chair
placed for her on the left Of the trib-
une, and the little princess took their
seats biside her; the little Count of
Flanders wriggling on his chair in
such a boyish manner. The deputies
for an instant was still. And then
while we waited, suddenly there was
noise outside, a rumble, a roar, and
then an usher shouted:
lie roll" (''The king.")
The word was caught up by many,
many voices, swelling to a hoarse
shout:
LIE roll"
The queen, the ministers, the dep
uties, everybody arose; we in the
diplomatic gallery never once sat
down. The king was just below us,
entering the chamber from the side
opposite that from which the queen
had entered; the deputies we're wav-
ing their hands-no handkerchiefs
in them now-and shouting in a
united voice, deep, rough, masculine,
in a mighty crescendo:
give lie roll" Vive lie roi! Vive
lie roll" c'Long live the king.")
1t was as though they could not
shout it loudly enough, as they stood
there, some in tears, Catholic, Lib
eral, Socialist, those distinctions
faded; it was Belgium acclaiming
her king.
And there he was, in the fatigue
uniform of a lieutenant general,
booted, and spurred, his sabre clank-
ing at his side. He strides along
firmly, swiftly, mounts the rostrum,
takes his kept, filings it on the table
before him, clicks his heels together,
makes a smart military bow, swiftly
peels the white glove from his right
hand, slaps the glove into the KEPT,
and, without waiting, begins at once
in his firm voice and his beautiful
French, to read his speech from the
notes that he holds in his white
glOved hand.
The queen. the little princes, the
deputies, resume their seats; the APP
plause that greets his majesty is
quickly hushed by the universal ad-
duration of silence:
Ssh. Sh!"
The doyen's gavel falls on the
green table. The stiffness in the
chamber is the stiffness OF poignant,
nervous tension. The ministers in the
front benches with their portfolios
know what is coming, no doubt; but
the others strain fOrward-the old
Count Woest, for instance, with his
hand behind his deaf ear, to hear the
Hateful words.
The King Speaks
The king is somewhat short-sight-
ed he puts on his pince-nez, holds