Through the Iron Bars | Page 2

displayed mankind as at once so much worse and so much
better than we thought, there is perhaps nothing more surprising than
the way in which the Belgian people have kept their spirits up.
One can, to a certain extent, understand the bright courage and the grim
humour of the fighting soldier; he has the excitement of battle to
sustain him through danger and suffering. But that an unarmed
population, which, having witnessed the martyrdom of many peaceful
towns, is threatened with utter destruction, which, ruined by war
contributions and requisitions, is on the brink of starvation, which,
persecuted by spies and subjected constantly to the most severe
individual and collective punishments on the slightest pretext, is
obliged to refrain from any manifestation of patriotic sentiments--that
such a population, completely cut off from its Government and from
most of its political leaders, and, moreover, poisoned every day by
news concocted by the enemy, should remain unshakable in its courage
and loyalty and should still be able to laugh at the efforts made by its
masters to bring it into submission, is truly one of the most amazing
spectacles which we have witnessed since the war broke out. General

von Bissing has declared that the Belgians are an enigma to him. No
wonder. They are an enigma to themselves. I am not going to explain
the miracle. I will only attempt to show how inexplicable, how
miraculous, it is.
* * * * *
The German occupation of Belgium may be roughly divided into two
periods: Before the fall of Antwerp, when the hope of prompt
deliverance was still vivid in every heart, and when the German policy,
in spite of its frightfulness, had not yet assumed its most ruthless and
systematic character; and, after the fall of the great fortress, when the
yoke of the conqueror weighed more heavily on the vanquished
shoulders, and when the Belgian population, grim and resolute, began
to struggle to preserve its honour and loyalty and to resist the ever
increasing pressure of the enemy to bring it into complete submission
and to use it as a tool against its own army and its own King.
I am only concerned here with the second period. The story of the
German atrocities committed in some parts of the country at the
beginning of the occupation is too well known to require any further
comment. Every honest man, in Allied and neutral countries, has made
up his mind on the subject. No unprejudiced person can hesitate
between the evidence brought forward by the Belgian Commission of
Enquiry and the vague denials, paltry excuses and insolent calumnies
opposed to it by the German Government and the Pro-German Press.
Besides, in a way, the atrocities committed during the last days of
August, 1914, ought not to be considered as the culminating point of
Belgium's martyrdom. They have, of course, appealed to the
imagination of the masses, they have filled the world with horror and
indignation, but they did not extend all over the country, as the present
oppression does; they only affected a few thousand men and women,
instead of involving hundreds of thousands. They were clean wounds
wrought by iron and fire, sudden, brutal blows struck at the heart of the
country, wounds and blows from which it is possible to recover quickly,
from which reaction is possible, which do not affect the soul and
honour of a people. The military executioners of 1914 were

compassionate when compared to the civilian administrators who
succeeded them. The pen may be more cruel than the sword.
Considered in the light of the recent deportations, the first days of
frightfulness seem almost merciful.
Observers have found no words strong enough to praise the attitude of
the Belgian people when victory seemed close at hand, when news was
still allowed to reach them. What should be said now after the
twenty-seven months for which they have been completely isolated
from the rest of the world? The ruthless methods of the German army
of invasion which deliberately massacred 5,000 unarmed civilians and
sacked six or seven towns and many more villages has been
vehemently condemned. What is to be the verdict now that they have
succeeded, after two years of efforts, in sacking the whole country,
ruining her industry and commerce, throwing out of employment her
best workmen and leading into slavery tens of thousands of her
staunchest patriots? The horrors of Louvain and Dinant were compared,
with some reason, to the excesses of the Thirty Years War, but modern
history offers no other instance of forced labour and wholesale
deportations. If, fifty years ago, the conscience of the world revolted
against black slavery, what should its feelings be today when it is
confronted with this new and most appalling form of white slavery?
We