No sooner did the Belgians know that the occupying government
had fallen, than their long-hidden, beloved tricolour appeared.
Revolutionary leaders, fearing this might cause trouble, asked those
now in authority to have the colours removed, and the people were
requested to withdraw them, until one appeared on the Hôtel de Ville.
This was accordingly done in the more important thoroughfares, but
in others the flag continued to float above the moving streams of
enemy forces, who showed no resentment. On the contrary, they seemed
to admire the daring patriotism it expressed; and on one occasion,
to my knowledge, German troops marched under those flags through the
Chaussée d’Ixelles singing the Marseillaise!
In the eyes of the more intelligent one could read the anguish at
their hearts, and a passion of resentment that suggested they were
mentally recalling the lines of their cherished poet:
“Ich rief den Teufel und er kam,
Und ich sah ihm mit Verwundrung an;
Er ist nicht hasslich und ist nicht lahm,
Er ist ein lieber, scharmanter Mann,
Ein Mann in seiner besten Jahren,
Verbindlich und höflich und Welterfahren!
Er ist ein gescheuter Diplomat
Und spricht recht schön über Kirch und Staat.”[2]
[2] I called the devil and he came,
And I on him with wonder looked;
He is not ugly and he is not lame,
He is a nice and charming man,
A man amid his best of years,
Obliging, courteous, and worldly wise,
He is a modest diplomat
And speaks right well of Church and State.