The most insidious attack of Governor von Bissing's policy on the Belgian nation was his attempt to use the Flemish Movement as a means to divide the Belgians against themselves. The governor, who explained his intentions in a remarkable document known as his "Political Testament," undertook this campaign under the assumption that Belgium was an artificial creation of the Vienna Congress and that such a thing as Belgian nationality did not really exist. German university professors had been at great pains to explain to the German and neutral public that nationality could only be created by unity of race or language, and that Belgium, possessing neither of these attributes, could consequently claim no right to independence. Following this trend of thought, the governor and his advisers considered the Flemish Movement as the outcome of internal dissensions between Walloons and Flemings, and hoped that, by encouraging the Flemings, they would succeed in dividing the country and in securing the protectorate of Flanders.

First the creation of a Flemish University in Ghent, replacing the French University, absorbed the attention of the German administration. Having secured the support of a few extreme "flamingants" known as "activists" and completed the professorial board with foreigners, they hastily inaugurated the new institution (1916). To their great surprise, all Flemish organizations protested indignantly against this action, contending that the occupying Power had no right to interfere in internal policy. The next step was a series of decrees establishing Administrative Separation, with two capitals at Namur and Brussels and a complete division of Government offices between the Flemish and Walloon districts of the country. This measure failed like the first, owing to the patriotic resistance of the Belgian officials and the inability of the Germans to replace them, and long before they were obliged to evacuate the country the Germans had given up the hope of mastering the absurd and unscientific decision of Walloons and Flemings alike to remain one people, as history had made them.

Professor Van der Linden has given to his valuable work on Belgian history the sub-title of The Making of a Nation, and shown conclusively how the present institutions of Belgium are the result of various contributions from the Middle Ages to the present time. But a book on Belgian history might just as aptly be called The Resistance of a Nation, since history tells us not only how the monument was built, but also how it was not destroyed in spite of the most adverse circumstances. From that point of view, Belgium may indeed be considered as the embodiment of steadfastness, rather than that of sheer heroism. She has succeeded in preserving, far more than in acquiring. From her fifteenth century frontiers she has been reduced to her present limited boundaries, which, nevertheless, contain all the elements of her past and present genius. She sacrificed territory, centuries of independence, long periods of prosperity, but she remained essentially one people and one land, a small people on a small land, combining the genius of two races and two languages and acting as a natural intermediary between the great nations of Europe. Her history, up to her last fight, is nothing but the struggle of a nation to assert her right to live, in spite of her weakness, in the midst of great military Powers. Unity, first constituted in the fifteenth century, is at once endangered by the rule of a foreign dynasty. During the first part of the sixteenth century the two influences, national and foreign, contend in the counsels of the nation. The latter tendency prevails, and, though remaining nominally independent in regional matters, the country passes under foreign rule. When, in the beginning of the nineteenth century, after the failure of several insurrections under the Austrian and French régimes, independence is finally granted, and when a new dynasty is at last inaugurated as a symbol of national unity, Belgium remains nevertheless under foreign tutelage. Her independence is bought at the price of neutrality; and it is only after the violation of this guaranteed neutrality by two of the foremost Powers which established it that the cycle of Belgium's trials comes to an end and that she is allowed to exert her sovereign rights in external as well as internal affairs.

Some may consider that Belgium has not reaped important advantages from the treaty of Versailles, and may be inclined to compare the small territories of the Walloon districts of Eupen and Malmédy with the efforts made during the last few years. But, quite apart from economic indemnities, which may prove a great asset if they materialize, Belgium has conquered a far more valuable possession than any territory could give. For the first time in modern history she has received full recognition. She is at last allowed to make friends with her friends and to beware of her enemies, if she has any reason to fear them. Through the bitter struggle of the last few years Belgium has conquered what other nations might consider as their birthright—the right to be herself, the master of her fate, the captain of her soul.

It becomes more and more apparent to foreign consciousness that her future is bound up with that of Europe. Her welfare will be Europe's welfare, her ruin, the ruin of Western civilization and Christianity. Unless through the League of Nations, or through any other means, justice prevails in international relations, the history of her tribulations is not yet closed, for only under a régime of justice may the weak hope to live in freedom and in peace.

Among the pantheon of monuments erected by modern Belgium to the heroes of her past history, the stranger will find, with some surprise, in the midst of the Place Royale in Brussels, an equestrian statue of Godfrey of Bouillon, who, nine centuries ago, sold his land to join the first crusade, and who refused to wear a crown of gold where his Saviour had worn a crown of thorns. Quite close stands the Palace where another Belgian prince returned lately, after four years' incessant labour at the side of his soldiers amid the sodden fields of Flanders. There is a great contrast between the civilization of the eleventh and that of the twentieth century, between the Great Adventure sought by the old crusaders and the Great War forced on Western Europe, between the mystic idealism of the Middle Ages and the practical idealism of modern times. On both occasions, however, Belgium was placed in the van, and found in Godfrey IV and Albert I two leaders whose courage and dignity will stand as the purest symbol of chivalry and national honour.

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