Through the Iron Bars | Page 4

his
appointment as General Governor of Belgium, Baron von der Goltz
declared that "he asked no one to renounce his patriotic feelings." And
when, a few days later, the Governor of Brussels, Baron von Luttwitz,
issued a poster "advising" the citizens to take their flags from their
windows, he did this in conciliatory words, giving the pretext that these
manifestations might provoke reprisals from the German troops passing

through the town: "The Military Governor does not intend in the least
to hurt, by such a measure, the feelings and self-respect of the
inhabitants. His only aim is to protect them against all harm."
(September 16th.) Every Belgian was still wearing the national colours,
pictures of the King and Queen were sold in the streets, and the
Brabançonne was hummed, whistled, and sung all over the country.
The people had lost every right but one: they could still show the
enemy, in spite of the declarations of the German Press, that they were
not yet ready to accept his rule.
This apparent tolerance is easy to explain. After the massacres of
August, the German authorities were anxious not to exasperate public
opinion, and not to spoil by uselessly vexatious measures the effect
which had been produced. During the Marne and the three sorties of the
Belgian army, they had only a very small number of men at their
disposal to garrison the largest towns. The slightest progress of the
Belgian army might have endangered their line of communications. We
know now that the withdrawal of the seat of the government from
Brussels to Liege was at one moment seriously contemplated, and that
the same troops were made to pass again and again through the streets
of the capital in order to give the illusion that the garrison was stronger
than it really was (Frankfurter Zeitung, August 22nd, 1916). Besides,
Germany had not yet given up all hopes of coming to terms with King
Albert, since a third attempt was to be made at Antwerp to separate the
Belgian Government from the Allies. In these circumstances it seemed
wiser to let the Belgian folk indulge in their harmless manifestations of
loyalty, so long as they did not cause any disturbance and did not
complicate the task of the military.
Let us look now at the next phase. As soon as the Belgian army has
achieved its junction with the Allies on the Yser and all
communications are cut between the Government and the people, the
Germans cease to consider Belgium as an occupied territory, and seize
upon every pretext to treat her as a conquered country, which will,
sooner or later, become part of the Empire. They no longer take the
trouble to explain or justify their oppressive measures, or to reconcile
them with their former promises. They simply ignore them. First in

Namur (November the 15th, 1914), then in Brussels (June the 30th,
1915), it becomes a crime to wear the tricolour cockade. The Te Deum,
which is celebrated every year, on November 15th, in honour of King
Albert's Saint's day, is forbidden. From the month of March, 1915, it is
practically a forbidden thing to sing the Brabançonne, even in the
schools. All patriotic manifestations, on the occasion of the King's
Birthday (April 8th) and of the anniversary of Belgian Independence
day (July 21st) are severely prosecuted.
In some of the orders issued there is still a weak attempt at
"respecting," in a German way, "the people's patriotic feelings." The
Governor of Namur, for instance, discriminates with the acutest
subtlety between wearing the national colours in private and in public,
and the Brabançonne can for a time be sung, so long as it is not
rendered "in a provoking manner." In fact, the Belgians are free to
manifest their patriotism so long as they are neither seen nor heard.
They are generously allowed to line their cupboards with tricolour
paper and to hum their national tunes in the depth of their cellars. But,
in most of the orders made under Governor von Bissing's rule (his reign
began on December 3rd, 1914), this last pretence of consideration and
respect disappears entirely. "I warn the public," declares the Governor
of Brussels on July the 18th, 1914, "that any demonstration whatsoever
is forbidden on July 21st next."
More than that, the German Administration frequently goes out of its
way to hurt the people's feelings. The fact of helping a patriot to join
the Army is not merely punished as a crime against the Germans, it is
delicately called "a crime of treason," and when people are condemned
because they are suspected of belonging to the Belgian intelligence
service, the public posters announcing their condemnation speak of
them as supplying information "to the enemy."
The sham tolerance of the first days has given way to a