From August 17 to August 21 were days of intense suspense in Brussels. Dr. E.J. Dillon has drawn a picture of them sober yet arresting and faithful. Naturally, after the removal of the Government, there was a feeling that the city was on the eve of grave events. Amid the public anxiety the Burgomaster, M. Adolphe Max, showed the evidences of that civic spirit and unfaltering firmness, worthy of the greatest years in the old struggle for freedom, which later made him the hero of his fellow-citizens.

Emotions changed from hour to hour, but when the Civic Guard left for the front, amid demonstrations of patriotic fervour, it was the common belief that the forces of Belgium might successfully keep off the enemy, at any rate until aid arrived. Barricades were built across the streets, and lines of trenches thrown up. Brussels resigned itself to the prospect of a siege. Little did the crowds who discussed these events know of the real purpose of them. Under present-day conditions of warfare Brussels is wholly indefensible. It lies for the most part in a hollow commanded by hills from which long-range guns could destroy it without the possibility of effective reply.

The object of the apparent preparations for a siege was to mislead, not the citizens of Brussels, but the foe who had trampled on the nation’s rights. The Government and the authorities in Brussels were well aware of the enemy’s swarm of spies in their midst. They were not ignorant that their every movement was forthwith betrayed. A wireless installation discovered on the building lately occupied by the German Ministry had been unearthed and dismantled, but there were still, doubtless, secret channels of communication open. Rightly concluding that German plans would be adjusted to this information, they met ruse with ruse. The enemy was to be led on to an empty and merely theatrical triumph.

Of course, the ordinary citizen, not in the secret, took the siege preparations at their face value. The German advance was evidenced, apart from reports and rumours, by the crowds of homeless fugitives, who like flotsam driven before a storm, tramped into the city footsore, weary, and miserable, their few belongings, hastily snatched together, carried on their backs, or piled on the light carts drawn by dogs. At first in bands, the inflow swelled until these pitiful processions filled every eastern and south-eastern road; and soon the railway stations were crowded by people struggling for trains to the coast.

Then came ambulances and trains of wounded. On the night of Thursday, August 20, Brussels did not go to bed. News arrived in the early hours that the Germans were close upon the city. From their posts in the Forest of Soignies, the Civic Guard marched in. It became known that they had been ordered to Ghent, and that the capital was to be surrendered without firing a shot.

The public at large were stunned, and their astonishment was without doubt shared, not in Belgium only, but abroad. Undaunted by the turn of events, the 20,000 men of the Civic Guard passed through the streets en route for Ghent intoning the “Marseillaise” in a thunderous chorus. Meanwhile those responsible wisely kept their counsel. The proclamation that the military evacuation was a measure necessary for the well-being of Brussels itself and of the country was, with judicious suppression as to reasons, the truth.

The public, of course, did not realise the military situation. All they for the moment grasped was the peril of an occupation by troops whose atrocities had been marked by a trail of burned-out villages and slaughtered peasantry. The crowds of fugitives from the country into Brussels were speedily swelled by yet even greater crowds out of the city. The roads to Ghent became thronged with refugees. Afoot and in every sort of vehicle, they fled from the on-coming Terror, the darkness relieved only by distant glares which told of villages in flames, and the fear sharpened by the sullen boom of far-off guns.

Meanwhile, in Brussels, the effort of the large non-resident population to get out while the way was yet open assumed the aspect of a panic. The first care of the authorities was, of necessity to remove the wounded, who had been placed, not only in hospitals, but in large stores turned for the time being into hospitals. This, of course, taxed the railway accommodation. It was necessary, too, that no rolling stock should fall into the hands of the invaders. Trains available were therefore limited. Would-be passengers fought their way with cries and curses into the compartments until these were choked with people all in a state of excitement or dread. Every train, even the last, left hundreds of the terror-stricken behind. It would be untrue, however, to assume that these refugees represented the spirit or feeling of the population of Brussels as a whole. The first shock passed, the population awaited developments without any marked signs of dismay.

German cavalry reached Teuveren, a suburb of Brussels, about six o’clock that morning. The street barricades were hastily removed by the city authorities. Those had served their turn and were no longer wanted.

The invaders’ formal entry took place at two in the afternoon. The clatter and jingle of heavy dragoons through deserted suburban streets, where the houses had been closely shuttered, announced that Brussels was in the power of the Prussians. The dragoons were the head of a column of infantry. These dauntless warriors had waited nearly eight hours in order to make sure that the “contemptible” Belgian military had in fact withdrawn.

Very soon the fact became evident that the entry had been carefully stage-managed in order to render it as “impressive” as possible. Some 50,000 of the smartest and freshest troops were paraded across the city. This display, which occupied some hours, was intended to convince the Bruxellois of the utter futility of Belgian resistance. With many of the population curiosity prevailed over repugnance, and they stood in throngs along the boulevards while the show went by. Seeing this impassive but orderly multitude, and doubtless convinced that the conquest of Belgium had already been accomplished as the first fruits of the war, the troops, by permission, struck up “Deutschland Über Alles.” In the fighting during the earlier days of the campaign the German troops, despite the plundering of the territory they had overrun, were in a half-famished state, and the horses of their cavalry, in particular, perishing of hunger and fatigue. Many prisoners were picked up in the last state of exhaustion. They might readily have been murdered by the enraged peasantry, but it is doubtful if there is even one clearly proved instance of a German having been assassinated under such circumstances.

The forces, however, now paraded bore few of the traces of warfare, a proof to the spectators that the Belgian operations were on paper! An incident recorded is that of several officers who rode in a motor-car. The group, apparently part of a divisional staff, called for a newspaper, and on reading the news broke out into ostentatious laughter. At selected points the troops, on a whistle being sounded, fell into the parade or “goose” step. Decidedly, the Bruxellois ought to be impressed. What resistance could avail against such instantaneous discipline?

In truth, the discipline was rather on the side of the spectators than of the performers. A proclamation by M. Max had enjoined a scrupulous avoidance of acts of insult or violence. The injunction was implicitly obeyed. Though, like every great city, Brussels had its irresponsible elements, such was the influence and authority of its burgomaster, and the esteem in which he was justly held, that his requisition was taken by every inhabitant as a personal obligation. The Germans imagined that this remarkable effect arose from their show of mechanical and material power. It was, on the contrary, a marvel of moral force.

The occupation, or more strictly the seizure, of the city was carried out methodically, and had manifestly, like the rest of the German arrangements, long been cut and dried. Detachments of troops took possession of the post and telephone offices; of the railways stations; of the public buildings; and of the barracks. At the Palais de Justice the doors were broken open, and the building turned into a military quarters. Brussels was cut off from communication with the outside world, Germany excepted. Guards were placed along the roads leading from it, and no person was allowed to pass without a military permit. On the great open space in front of the Palais de Justice heavy guns were ranged so that they could command the greater part of the lower town. From this space, as everyone familiar with Brussels knows, the city, a picture of the multitudinous beauty of roofs and streets and towers, can be seen stretching away across the broad valley of the Senne.

One of the first measures taken by General von Arnim, the German commandant, was to summon the burgomaster and the members of the civic council, and to inform them that they must consider themselves hostages for the good behaviour of the citizens. A long list of the wealthiest citizens proved to be in the possession of the invaders, and opposite each name the approximate total of the person’s fortune. Such was one of the effects of the spy system. Opposite each name, too, was the amount which it was proposed to exact.

The burgomaster was told that the city must pay a war “fine” of £8,000,000, and that he must see to it that the sum was forthcoming promptly and in cash. He was also told that he would be looked to for the German soldiery being treated by Brussels citizens with proper respect. The police of the city would be left under his direction, subject, of course, to orders from the new authorities.

M. Max replied that a payment of £8,000,000 as demanded was out of the question. All the cash from the banks had been removed. In any event, if the levy was fairly assessed it must take time to collect. Hence at best it could only be paid by instalments. He added that measures had already been taken for the maintenance of public order, and that the occupying troops would meet with no molestation if they on their part behaved properly to the public. If he and the city council were to be responsible the civic rights and the persons and property of citizens must be respected.

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.

Familiarity with the “conquerors” rapidly bred in the population of the city a general contempt. It was speedily found out that their political incapacity was only paralleled by their assumption. Despite the elaborate imported machinery of government their authority remained a shadow. The passive resistance of the public was “correct,” but annoying. When processions of street boys, each in an old hat with the end of a carrot pushed through the crown, played at German soldiers and gave comic imitations of the goose step and the words of command—a diversion General von Luttwitz had somehow forgotten to catalogue as “verboten”—the military government of Belgium felt itself drifting into a false position.

It was decided that the soul of the opposition was the burgomaster. Inevitably in the situation there was much distress arising from unemployment. The commerce of the city was at a standstill. M. Max, aided by other public-spirited citizens, worked with energy to organise relief. Brussels was divided into a score or so of districts, so that the most necessitous could be dealt with. The citizens had realised that by following the burgomaster’s wise counsels, refraining from provocation on their own part, ignoring it on the part of their oppressors, they were serving their country as effectively as if they were on the battlefield. Indeed Brussels had become a battlefield—a moral battlefield on which the defeat of the foe was complete. On that battlefield in the dark days of the past the citizens of Brussels had won signal victory. Dark days had come again, and they were drawn together under the man raised up in the hour of need.

Whatever the show of power made by the combined civil and military governments of Belgium, the real ruler was the burgomaster, and the civil and military governments knew it. They tolerated him partly because it assisted public order, but mostly because he was considered indispensable in collecting the expected war fine. The latter was dribbling in very slowly. Requisitions of supplies for the German troops were “paid for” in vouchers to be met out of the tribute—when received. Citizens shrewdly suspected, however, that, like other Prussian promises, these were of little value. This system of plunder of necessity aggravated the distress, and all the more because similar seizures were going on in the smaller towns. Every day in face of greater secrecy on the part of the population the collection of supplies became more difficult. General von Luttwitz was at his wits’ end.

Bold measures were resolved upon. The troops in occupation showed signs of becoming demoralised. Quarrels broke out in barracks between contingents of Prussians and Bavarians. As co-religionists of the Belgians, the latter were suspected of being sympathetic to the Brussels people. The old standing hatred of the Bavarians towards Prussia, and the equally old-standing contempt of the Prussians for all other Germans in general and for Bavarians in particular, led to free fights in which bayonets were used. Some of the combatants lost their lives. The military government decidedly had its hands full. It endeavoured to show its authority by insisting on the presence of a representative at the meetings of the City Council. There was a suspicion that these meetings were in fact occupied with proposals to subvert it, and evade payment of the fine. The indomitable burgomaster declared that if the new civil or the new military government intruded no more meetings would be held. The civil and military governments were obliged to give way.

By way of reprisal, they insisted that the £1,200,000 still owing out of the first £2,000,000 of the war fine should be paid up by a given date. The burgomaster and council replied that the demand was an impossible one. The new “authorities” were peremptory. The council met them with a flat refusal. On receipt of it the burgomaster was sent for by the military governor. He did not return, and in fact had been arrested. The council were informed that payment of the £1,200,000 was the condition of his release.

Forthwith on the walls and kiosks the public read over the signature of the military governor the following proclamation:—

“To the people of Brussels!

“I have the honour to make it known that I have found myself obliged to suspend Burgomaster Max from his office on account of his unserviceable behaviour. He is now in honourable custody in a fortress.

“The German Government ordered the payment of all military requisition vouchers in the supposition that the town would pay the war tribute voluntarily. Only on this condition were special terms conceded to Brussels, whereas in other towns requisition vouchers will be paid after the conclusion of peace. As the Brussels municipality refuses to pay the remainder of the tribute, no further requisition vouchers will be paid by the German Government.”

The device which had been relied upon to cajole the public into the belief that the requisitions were being bought and not stolen had broken down, and the proclamation was nothing more than a confession of its failure. Henceforth the robbery must be crude and unashamed. As crude were the threats of outrage which the competent von Luttwitz indulged in. Summoning the aldermen into his presence and requiring them to elect another burgomaster, he found that the spirit of M. Adolphe Max, the ancient spirit of the Netherlands, was not to be destroyed by arrests. The aldermen firmly refused compliance. They were threatened with a German burgomaster and German military patrols in place of the police, and told that if riots broke out Brussels would be bombarded and burned. Riots, as the aldermen knew, might readily be provoked for that purpose. Tension in face of the burgomaster’s arrest was already acute. In these circumstances M. Maurice Lemonnier undertook with his colleagues the maintenance of public order, but the fiat for the election of a successor to M. Max remained unfulfilled.

Thus would-be conquerors of Europe in the face of unarmed citizens offered the world a proof of their inborn incapacity to rule, and themselves exposed the folly of their aspirations.

M. Max, it was afterwards learned, had been put under confinement in the fortress of Wesel in Germany.