In every war certain men seize on what is called the popular imagination. Three such soon towered above all their fellows in Belgium.
The first was King Albert, who has shown himself the heroic defender of his kingdom’s rights and liberties, and who continually shared in the trenches the dangers and discomforts of his brave troops.
The second was General Leman, whose name will ever be linked with the magnificent defence of Liège.
And the third was Adolphe Max, the Mayor or Burgomaster of Brussels. This civilian hero might well take as his motto, “Peace hath her victories as well as war,” for his extraordinary moral and physical courage saved his beloved city from the fate which befell Louvain and Termonde.
When the Germans were about to make their triumphal march through the Belgian capital, the Mayor insisted that as he was the First Citizen of Brussels he must ride at the head of the procession. In this way he proved that he was not the captive but the host of the rough intruders. And when the German General Staff arrived at the Town Hall, and, declaring that they meant to make it their Headquarters, commanded M. Max to provide them at once with three hundred beds, “I will provide three hundred and one beds,” replied the Mayor of Brussels, smiling, “for of course I shall sleep here too!”
“You will hand over to us a hundred of your notables as hostages for your people’s good behaviour,” said the German General. “I will be your hostage,” instantly replied M. Max, “and I will provide you with none other.” Small wonder that this brave, good-humoured man won the love as well as the respect of the people of whom he was the shepherd.
On one occasion the German General, trying to threaten and bully M. Max, laid his revolver on the table with what he apparently thought was a grand gesture. M. Max, with a smile, took up his pen and laid it beside the revolver. And never was there a better example shown of the fact that the pen can be mightier than the sword.
At last, as punishment for his sturdy courage and his determination to protect his people’s legal rights, M. Max was suspended from his office, and put in what the enemy quaintly called “honourable custody” in a German fortress. Fierce were the grief and anger of the unfortunate inhabitants of Brussels, and the Germans soon found that it was far more difficult to govern the city in the absence, than with the help, of M. Max.
The Germans had not been at Brussels very long when it became known that British Marines had been landed at Ostend. They only stayed there a short time, but their temporary presence was a great comfort to the poor Belgians.
Ostend was then simply a pretty watering-place, but that was not always so. The town whose name, as you will see later, was to become a familiar one in this great war, was once besieged by the Spaniards for three and a half years, and it was said that the noise of the bombardment was heard in London! It was at Ostend that the Duke of Wellington, then plain Arthur Wellesley, first set foot on the Continent.