The most famous, I need hardly tell you, is the Battle of Waterloo, which was fought within a few miles of Brussels, the capital of Belgium. That was one reason why a great many English-speaking and English-reading people all over the world felt very sad when they heard that the German Army was in Brussels. But there is another reason why many men and women who have never been there feel a familiar and affectionate interest in the town. That is because three of our greatest writers and romancers have chosen to lay scenes of their stories in Brussels. The first of these was Laurence Sterne, of whose most famous character, Uncle Toby, I have told you. The second was William Makepeace Thackeray. He showed an intimate knowledge of the Brussels of a hundred years ago in his account in “Vanity Fair” of what took place there before, during, and after the Battle of Waterloo. But those who claim to be true Thackerayans will tell you that even finer, even more firmly fixed on their minds, is the account of Esmond’s visit to his mother’s grave in the Brussels of the eighteenth century. It was, however, a lady, Miss Charlotte Brontë, who, in “Villette,” which good judges consider the best of her stories, has made many of us feel really intimate with the highways and byways of Brussels. In fact, it is not too much to say that there are many people (the writer among them) who, when before the War they heard the name of Brussels suddenly pronounced, immediately thought of “Villette.” 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!”