Throughout their dealings with the people of Brussels the Germans have found themselves time and again outwitted. Scarce a prohibition has been framed which has not been countered on the instant by some brilliant evasion that has rendered it not merely null and void, but ridiculous as well. "Verboten," that fetish of the docile German mind, succeeds only in stimulating the inventiveness of the witty Bruxellois.
Exception was taken, for example, to the wording of certain proclamations by the Burgomaster which had been put up on the walls in various parts of the city, and the German authorities ordered that sheets of white paper be pasted over them. The order was duly carried out. Ere nightfall blameless blank sheets marked the spots where the suppressed placards had previously figured. Next morning the sheets were still there, blank as before, but hardly blameless. An oily sponge had rendered them transparent during the night, and the censored proclamations underneath were plainly visible for all who chose—and there were many—to pause and ostentatiously read.
Again, the wearing of the Belgian national colours is forbidden. So be it. Rosettes of red, black, and yellow ribbon are discarded; not a favour adorns the decorous civilian buttonhole. But soon a new fashion in attire appears upon the boulevards. A dandy is observed handsomely, indeed strikingly, apparelled in yellow trousers, red vest, and black coat. The mode quickly becomes popular, and soon it might almost be said that for the patriotic Bruxellois "motley's the only wear." That the motley in this case should comprise the Belgian national colours is a coincidence which any wearer of it, one may be sure, would be astonished to discover.
When last year the anniversary of that fateful fourth of August came round, the Germans in Brussels, guilty of conscience, sought to anticipate by prohibition all public reminiscence of the date. Their feelings may be imagined when, on the morning of that significant anniversary, they were greeted by the sight of a careless torn "scrap of paper" thrust negligently through the buttonhole of every Bruxellois. To frame an edict that would render verboten such subtle demonstrations as this would tax even the Teuton's encyclopædic diligence.
A scrap of paper is not the only strange but meaning device which has adorned the citizen's buttonhole in Brussels. On the day when Italy joined the Allies, the Germans, in anticipation of that long-expected event, had of their wisdom forbidden any display of the Italian colours or flag. None appeared, but from out of those resourceful buttonholes peeped neat rosettes and sprigs of macaroni.
If presently we learn that by order of the All-Highest every buttonhole in Brussels is sewn up, it will hardly be matter for surprise. It would be a charactertistic step.
Those ribbon favours have proved prickly thorns to the Germans. They seem to act upon the Prussian mind as a red rag upon the bull, and like the rag, when in the deft hands of a skilled toriro, they frequently lure the victim to his own undoing. It happened once, soon after the display of national colours had been prohibited, that a Prussian officer, entering a Brussels tramcar, found himself seated opposite a Belgian lady upon whose coat the forbidden red, black, and yellow ribbons were flauntingly displayed. It is the custom of many Belgian ladies, on finding themselves in a public vehicle with a German officer, to quit their seats and stand on the conductor's platform outside. Ruffled, perhaps, by the omission of this somewhat pointed tribute to his presence, the intruder leaned forward and requested the removal of the offending colours. The suggestion was greeted by a stony stare, the demand which followed it by an expressive and provocative shrug of the shoulders.
"If you will not take off those colours, madam, I shall remove them myself."
This menace eliciting no response, the Prussian officer stretched forth a Prussian fist and made a Prussian grab. The favour came away in his clutch, but that was not the end of it. Within his fair antagonist's dress ample lengths of ribbon were concealed, and the more the discomfited officer pulled the more streamers of red, black, and yellow reeled forth. It was a case literally of getting more than he bargained for, and the charming murmur of thanks which he received when, in sheer desperation, he dropped the tangle of ribbon on the floor and made hastily for the door must have gratified that Prussian exceedingly.