If the Germans had had the least touch of generous feeling for the unfortunate country upon which they thrust war in spite of the most solemn treaties, they would not have obliged the Belgian citizens to lower the flags which they had put up during the defence of Liege, they would not have torn their tricolour cockades from their buttonholes, they would not have silenced their national songs, they would not have added these deep humiliations to the bitter cup of defeat.  One wonders even why they did it if it was not for the mere pleasure which the bully is supposed to feel when he makes his strength felt by his victim.  They might have gone on gaily plundering the country, shooting patriots, deporting young men, doing whatever seemed useful in their eyes.  But the petty tyranny of these measures passes understanding.  Governor von Bissing is certainly too clever to believe that the satisfaction of making a few cowards uneasy by such regulations can at all outweigh the danger inherent in the resentment and the deep hatred which the bullying has aroused against Germany.  You may take the children’s bread, you may take their freedom, but you might at least leave them a few toys to play with, and you would be wise to do so.

* * * * *

Such narrow-minded tyranny always defeats its own objects.  Burgomaster Max’s proud answer to General von Luttwitz’s “advice” to remove the flags became the password of the patriots.  Every Bruxellois henceforth “waited for the hour of reparation.”  A great number of women went to prison rather than remove the emblems of Belgium which they wore.  Stories passed from lip to lip.  Their accuracy I would not guarantee, but they belong to the epic of the war and are true to the spirit of the people.  A young lady, who was jeered at by a German officer because she was wearing King Albert’s portrait, is said to have answered his “Lackland” with, “I would rather have a King who has lost his country than an Emperor who has lost his honour.”  Another lady, sitting in a tram-car opposite a German officer, was ordered by him to remove her tricolour rosette.  She refused to do so, and, as he threatened her, defied him to do it himself.  The Boche seized the rosette and pulled .. and pulled .. and pulled.  The lady had concealed twenty yards of ribbon in her corsage.

When the tricolour was forbidden altogether, it was replaced by the ivyleaf, ivy being the emblem of faithfulness; later, the ivyleaf was followed by a green ribbon, green being the colour of hope.  The Brabanconne being excluded from the street and from the school took refuge in the Churches, where it is played and often sung by the congregation at the end of the service.  There are many ways of getting round the law.  The Belgians were forbidden to celebrate in any ordinary way the anniversary of their independence.  Thanks to a sort of tacit arrangement they succeeded in marking the occasion in spite of all regulations.  On