Hacking Through Belgium

by Edmund Dane

The reply was that all this must be dependent on the amount of the fine being found somehow.

While this interview was in progress at the offices lately evacuated by the Government where the “conquerors” had installed themselves, arrangements were being made for billeting some thousands of officers, who promptly took possession of the hotels, where, with the arrogant air of superiority which marks off the Prussian military caste, they proceeded to regale themselves without payment, adding to these acts of petty brigandage in many cases gross insults if their demands could not be complied with. Others were quartered on private families. During the evening of the first day of the occupation they sat at open windows or outside cafés on the boulevards, and refreshed with food and liquor beyond the dreams of their own exiguous commissariat, indulged in mocking observations on the manners and ways of citizens, who in the qualities of dignity, courtesy, and restraint offered an example which “kultur” had left the Prussian intruders unable to copy.

As for the troops not needed for garrison duty, they had been marched to an encampment to the north-west of the city. The delights of conquest were reserved for the officers. It was enough for the men that they shared the honour of its fatigues.

Two days later arrived from Berlin General von der Goltz who, it was announced, had been appointed civil governor of Belgium. This superannuated worthy brought with him instructions for more “fines,” including the modest requisition of £18,000,000 from the province of Brabant.

It may be doubted whether the world, outside Germany, did not receive the news of the levy upon Brussels with even greater laughter than indignation. The preposterous character of the demand was only exceeded by its impudence. But the new viceroy of Belgium, like his employers, took himself seriously. Having installed himself with due ceremony in the royal palace, he proceeded to tackle the knotty business of converting the phantom £10 a head for every man, woman, and child into solid sinews of war.

There was no sign of the money making its appearance. The burgomaster was sent for and carpeted for his remissness. He intimated with polite sarcasm that if the new “government” could discover a better way of collecting the fine they did not need his assistance. General von der Goltz agreed to accept payments by instalments. Hints were thrown out that if the instalments were not paid it would be the worse for Brussels. The “government” would not stand on ceremony.

Nevertheless, the instalments were not forthcoming. After huge worry and effort, all that could be extracted was £800,000. The policy of making Belgium pay for its own subjugation, brilliant in theory, threatened in practice to become a comedy.

This was not the only light touch. A colleague of von der Goltz, General von Luttwitz, had been appointed military governor of Belgium. He signalised his arrival by a pompous proclamation in which, after the manner of the 4,000 or more police by-laws of Berlin, he forbade the citizens to do a variety of things, and strictly enjoined them on pain of instant arrest and trial by court martial to do a variety of others.

The public read the proclamation with ridicule. Since it was both an interference with the rights of the civic council as the police authority, and likely to provoke mischief by its blundering foolishness, the burgomaster, in the interests of public order and security, issued a counter-proclamation reassuring citizens of the endeavours for their protection, and enjoining pacific conduct and restraint. The burgomaster’s announcement, not having been submitted and passed in the first instance, was considered a defiance. German soldiers were sent out as billstickers with sheets of blank paper to cover it over. During the following night the blank paper was found to have been oiled, and made transparent. This produced a threat that if such a trick was repeated the police would be disbanded and replaced by the military.

As lacking in any sense of proportion was the hurry to Germanise the Press. The Brussels newspapers, laid under a strict censorship, were forbidden to publish any save Berlin-provided war news, and to publish it in German. Henceforth the Brussels public were to hear of nothing save German victories. The newspapers declined to comply and were suppressed. To supply the lack of news the authorities established an official organ printed in the now official language. There was no demand, and the government and garrison alone enjoyed the pleasure afforded by its cultured and exciting contents. The Brussels public preferred to remain in unofficial darkness.