LIEGE AND ITS FATE
1465-1467
"When we have finished here we shall make a fine beginning against
those villains the Liegeois." Thus wrote the count's secretary on
October 18th.[1] Charles had no desire to rest on the laurels won
before Paris. To another city he now turned his attention, to Liege
which owed nothing whatsoever to Burgundy.
Before the days when the buried treasures of the soil filled the
air with smoke, the valley where Liege lies was a lovely spot.[2]
Tradition tells how, in the sixth century, Monulphe, Bishop of
Tongres, as he made a progress through his diocese was attracted by
the beauties of the site where a few hovels then clustered near the
Meuse. After looking down from the heights to the river's banks for
a brief space, the bishop turned to his followers and said, as if
uttering a prophecy:
"Here is a place created by God for the salvation of many faithful
souls. One day a prosperous city shall flourish here. Here I will
build a chapel." Dedicated to Cosmo and Damian, the promised chapel
became a shrine which attracted many pilgrims who returned to their
various homes with glowing tales of the beautiful and fertile valley.
Little by little others came who did not leave, and by the seventh
century when Bishop Lambert sat in the see of Tongres, Liege was a
small town.
An active and loving shepherd was this Lambert. He gave himself no
rest but travelled continually from one church to another in his
diocese to look after the needs of his flock. He was a fearless
prelate, too, and his words of well-deserved rebuke to the Frankish
Pepin for a lawless deed excited the wrath of a certain noble,
accessory to the act. Trouble ensued and Lambert was slain as he knelt
before the altar in Monulphe's chapel at Liege. Absorbed in prayer
the pious man did not hear the servants' calls, "Holy Lambert, Holy
Lambert come to our aid," words that later became a war-cry when the
bishop was exalted into the patron saint of the town.
Not until the thirteenth century, however, when the episcopal see was
finally established at Liege, was Lambert's successor virtual lay
overlord of the region as well as Bishop of Liege. Monulphe's little
chapel had given way to a mighty church dedicated to the canonised
Bishop Lambert. The ecclesiastical state became almost autonomous, the
episcopal authority being restricted without the walls only by the
distant emperor and still more distant pope. Within the walls, the
same authority had by no means a perfectly free hand. There were
certain features in the constitution of Liege which differentiated it
from its sister towns in the Netherlands.
Municipal affairs were conducted in a singularly democratic manner.
There was no distinction between the greater and lesser gilds, and,
within these organisations, the franchise was given to the most
ignorant apprentice had he only fulfilled the simple condition of
attaining his fifteenth year. Moreover, the naturalisation laws were
very easy. Newcomers were speedily transformed into citizens and
enjoyed eligibility to office as well as the franchise. The tenure of
office being for one year only, there was opportunity for frequent
participation in public affairs, an opportunity not neglected by the
community.[2]
The bishop was, of course, not one of the civic officers chosen by
this liberal franchise. He was elected by the chapter of St. Lambert,
subject to papal and imperial ratification for the two spheres of his
jurisdiction. But in the exercise of his function there were many
restrictions to his free administration, which papal and imperial
sanction together were unable to remove.
A bishop-prince of Liege could make no change in the laws without the
consent of the estates, and he could administer justice only by means
of the regular tribunals. Every edict had to be countersigned. When
there was an issue between overlord and people, the question was
submitted to the _schepens_ or superior judges who, before they gave
their opinion, consulted the various charters which had been granted
from time to time, and which were not allowed to become dead letters.
A permanent committee of the three orders supervised the executive and
the administration of the laws. These "twenty-two" received an appeal
from the meanest citizen, and the Liege proverb "In his own home the
poor man is king," was very near the possible truth.
Yet the wheels of government were by no means perfect in their
running. Many were the conflicts between the different members of the
state, and broils, with the character of civil war in miniature, were
of frequent occurrence. The submergence of the aristocratic element,
the nobles, destroyed a natural balance of power between the
bishop-prince and the people. The commons exerted power beyond their
intelligence. Annual elections, party contests headed by rival
demagogues kept the capital, and, to a lesser extent, the smaller
towns of the little state in continuous commotion[4].
The ecclesiastical origin of the community was evident at all points
of daily life. The cathedral of St. Lambert was the pride of the city.
Its chapter, consisting of sixty canons, took the place held by the
aristocratic element in the other towns.
In the cathedral, the holy standard of St. Lambert was suspended. At
the outbreak of war this was taken down and carried to the door by the
clergy in solemn procession. There it was unfurled and delivered to
the commander of the civic militia mounted on a snow-white steed. When
he received the precious charge he swore to defend it with his life.
One object of popular veneration was this standard, another was the
_perron_, an emblem of the civic organisation. This was a pillar of
gilded bronze, its top representing a pineapple surmounted by a cross.
This stood on a pedestal in the centre of the square where was the
_violet_ or city hall. In front of the perron were proclaimed all the
ordinances issued by the magistrates, or the decrees adopted by the
people in general assembly. On these occasions the tocsin was rung,
the deans of the gilds would hasten out with their banners and plant
them near the perron as rallying points for the various gild members
who poured out from forge, work-shop, and factory until the square was
filled.
There were two powerful weapons whereby the bishop-prince might
enforce his will in opposition to that of his subjects did the latter
become too obstreperous. He could suspend the court of the _schepens_,
and he could pronounce an interdict of the Church which caused the
cessation of all priestly functions. When this interdict was in
action, civil suits between burghers could be adjudged by the
municipal magistrates, but no criminals could be arrested or tried.
The elementary principles of an organised society were thrown into
confusion. Still worse confusion resulted from the bishop's last
resort as prince of the Church. An interdict caused the church bells
to be silent, the church doors to be closed. The celebration of the
rites of baptism, of marriage, of burial ceased.[5] The fear of such
cessation was potent in its restraint, unless the populace were too
far enraged to be moved by any consideration.
While the Burgundian dukes extended their sway over one portion of
Netherland territory after another, this little dominion maintained
its complete independence of them. The fact that its princes were
elective protected it from lapsing through heritage to the duke who
had been so neatly proven heir to his divers childless kinsfolk. It
was a rich little vineyard without his pale.
They were clever people those Liegeois. Their Walloon language is
a species of French with many peculiarities showing Frankish
admixture.[6] The race was probably a mixed one too, but its acquired
characteristics made a very different person from a Hollander, a
Frisian, or a Fleming, though there was a certain resemblance to the
latter.
In 1465, not yet exploited were the wonderful resources of coal and
minerals which now glow above and below the furnace fires until, from
a distance, Liege looks like a very Inferno. But the people were
industrious and energetic in their crafts. It was a country of skilled
workmen. The city of Liege is accredited with one hundred thousand
inhabitants at this epoch, and the numbers reported slain in
the various battles in which the town was involved run into the
thousands.[7]
In 1456, Philip of Burgundy, encouraged by his success in the diocese
of Utrecht, obtained a certain ascendency over the affairs of Liege by
interfering in the election of a bishop. There was no natural vacancy
at the moment. John of Heinsberg was the incumbent, a very pleasant
prelate with conciliatory ways. He loved amusement and gay society,
pleasures more easily obtainable in Philip's court than in his own,
and his agreeable host found means of persuading him to resign all the
cares of his see. Then the enterprising duke proceeded to place his
own nephew, Louis of Bourbon, upon the vacant episcopal throne.
This nephew was an eighteen-year-old student at the University of
Louvain, destitute of a single qualification for the office proposed.
Nevertheless, all difficulties, technical and general were ignored,
and a papal dispensation enabled the candidate even to dispense with
the formality of taking orders. Attired in scarlet with a feathered
Burgundian cap on his head, Louis made his entry into his future
capital and was duly enthroned as bishop-prince in spite of his
manifest unfitness for the place.
Nor did he prove a pleasant surprise to his people, better than the
promise of his youth, as some reckless princes have done. On the
contrary, ignorant, sensuous, extortionate, he was soon at drawn
swords with his subjects. After a time he withdrew to Huy where he
indulged in gross pleasures while he attempted to check the rebellious
citizens of his capital by trying some of the measures of coercion
used by his predecessors as a last resort.
Liege was lashed into a state of fury. Matters dragged on for a long
time. The people appealed to Cologne, to the papal legate, to the
pope, and to the "pope better informed," but no redress was given.
Philip continued to protect the bishop, and none dared put themselves
in opposition to him. Finally, the people turned to Louis XI. for aid.
Their appeal was heard and the king's agent arrived in the city
just as one of the bishop's interdicts was about to be enforced,
an interdict, too, endorsed by a papal bull, threatening the usual
anathema if the provisions were not obeyed.
It was the moment for a demagogue and one appeared in the person of
Raes de la Rivière, lord of Heers. On July 5, 1465, there was to be
unbroken silence in all sacred edifices. Heers and his followers
proclaimed that every priest who refused to chant should be thrown
into the river. Mass was said under those unpeaceful and unspiritual
conditions, and the presence of the French envoys gave new heart to
the bishop's opponents. A treaty was signed between the Liegeois
and Louis; wherein mutual pledges were made that no peace should be
concluded with Burgundy in which both parties were not included. It
was a solemn pledge but it did not hamper Louis when he signed the
treaty of Conflans whose articles contained not a single reference to
the Liegeois.
Meanwhile, it chanced that the first report of the battle of
Montl'héry reaching Liege gave the victory to Louis, a report that
spurred on the Liegeois to carry their acts of open hostility to their
neighbour, still farther afield. The other towns of the Church state
were infected by an anti-Burgundian sentiment. In Dinant this feeling
was high, and there was, moreover, a manifestation of special
animosity against the Count of Charolais. A rabble marched out of the
city to the walls of Bouvignes, a town of Namur, loyal to Burgundy,
carrying a stuffed figure with a cow-bell round its neck. Certain
well-known emblems of Burgundy on a tattered mantle showed that this
represented Charles of Burgundy. With rude words the crowd declared
that they were going to hang the effigy as his master, the King of
France, had already hanged Count Charles in reality. Further, they
said that he was no count at all, but the son of their old bishop,
Heinsberg. They went so far as to suspend the effigy on a gallows and
then riddled it with arrows and left it dangling like a scarecrow in
sight of the citizens of Bouvignes.[8]
The actual contents of the treaty made at Conflans did not reach Liege
until messages from Louis had assured them that he had been mindful of
their interests in making his own terms, assurances, however, coupled
with advice to make peace with their good friend the duke. But there
speedily came later information that the only mention of Liege in the
new treaty was an apology that Louis had ever made friends in that
city!
The rebels lost heart at once. Without the king, they had no
confidence in their own efforts. Envoys were despatched to Philip who
refused to answer their humble requests for pardon until his son could
decide what punishment the principality deserved. Nor was much delay
to be anticipated before an answer would be forthcoming. Charles
hastened to Liege direct from Paris, not pausing even to greet his
father. By the third week of January, he was encamped between St.
Trond and Tongres, where a fresh deputation from Liege found him.
These envoys, between eighty and a hundred, were well armed chiefly
because they feared attacks from their anti-peace fellow-citizens.[9]
They found Charles flushed by his recent achievement of bringing King
Louis to his way of thinking. His army, too, was a stronger body than
when it left the Netherlands. The troops were more skilled from
their experience and elated at what they counted their success; more
capable, too, of acting as one body under the guidance of a resolute
leader, now inclined to despise councils with free discussion. The
count's quick temper had gained him weight but it had made him feared.
The slightest breach of discipline brought a thunder-cloud on his
face. If we may believe one authority,[10] he himself was often so
lacking in discipline that he would strike an officer with a baton,
and once at least, he killed a soldier with his own hand.
His audience with the envoys resulted in a treaty, of which certain
articles were so harsh that the messengers were insulted when the
report was made in Liege. Only eleven out of thirty-two gilds voted to
accept all the articles. A certain noble on pleasant terms with the
count offered to carry the unpopular document back to him to ask for a
modification of the harsh terms.
By this time the weather was severe. Charles's troops were in need of
repose, and it seemed prudent to avoid hostility if possible. Charles
revoked the objectionable clauses in consideration of an increase of
the war indemnity. With this change the treaty was accepted, and a
Piteous Peace it was indeed for the proud folk of Liege. Instead
of owing allegiance to emperor and to pope alone as free imperial
citizens, they agreed to recognise the Burgundian dukes as hereditary
protectors of Liege.
When it was desired, Burgundian troops could march freely across the
territory. Burgundian coins were declared valid at Burgundian values.
No Liege fortresses were to menace Burgundian marches, and unqualified
obedience was pledged to the new overlords. The same terms were
conceded to all the rebel towns alike except to Dinant. The story of
the personal insult to himself and his mother had reached the count's
ears and he was not inclined to ignore the circumstance. His further
action was, however, deferred.
January 24, 1466, is the final date of the treaty[11] and, after its
conclusion, Charles ordered a review of his forces, a review that
almost culminated in a pitched battle between army and citizens of St.
Trond, and then on January 31st, the count returned to Brussels where
there was a great display of Burgundian etiquette before the duke
embraced his victorious son.
Piteous as was the peace for Liege and the province at large, still
more piteous was the lot of Dinant which alone was excluded from the
participation in the treaty. Her fate remained uncertain for months.
Other affairs occupied the Count of Charolais until late in the summer
of 1466. Time had quickly proven that Louis, well freed from the
allies pressing up to the gates of Paris, was in very different temper
from Louis ill at ease under their strenuous demands. Not only had
he withdrawn his promises in regard to the duchy conferred on his
brother, but he had begun taking other measures, ostensibly to prepare
against a possible English invasion, which alarmed his cousin of
Burgundy for the undisturbed possession of his recently recovered
towns on the Somme.
Excited by the rumours of Louis's purposes, Charles despatched the
following letter from Namur:[12]
"MONSEIGNEUR:
"I recommend myself very humbly to your good grace and beg to
inform you, Monseigneur, that recently I have been advised of
something very surprising to me, Moreover, I am now put beyond
doubt considering the source of my information. It is with much
regret that I communicate it to you when I remember all the good
words you have given to me this year, orally and in writing.
Monseigneur, it is evident that there has been some agreement
between your people and the English, and that the matter has been
so well worked that you have consented, as I have heard, to yield
them the land of Caux, Rouen, and the connecting villages, and to
aid them in withholding Abbeville and the county of Ponthieu, and
further, to cement with them certain alliances against me and my
country in making them large offers greatly to my prejudice and,
in order to complete the whole, they are to come to Dieppe.
"Monseigneur, you may dispose of your own as you wish: but,
Monseigneur, in regard to what concerns me, it seems to me that
you would do better to leave my property in my hand than to be the
instrument of putting it into the hands of the English or of any
foreign nation. For this reason I entreat you, Monseigneur, that
if such overtures or greater ones have been opened by your people
that you will not commit yourself to them in any manner but will
insist on their cessation, and that you will do this in a way that
I may always have cause to remain your very humble servant as I
desire to do with all my heart. Above all, write to me your good
pleasure, and I implore you, Monseigneur, if there be any service
that I can render you, I am the one who would wish to employ all
that God has given me [to do it]. Written at Namur, August 16th.
"Your very humble and obedient subject,
"CHARLES."
Then the count proceeded to Dinant to inflict the punishment that the
culprits had, to his mind, too long escaped.
Commines calls this a strong and rich town, superior even to
Liege.[13] A comparison of the two sites shows, however, that this
statement could hardly have been true at any time. Dinant lies in a
narrow space between the Meuse and high land. A lofty rock at one
end of the town dominating the river is crowned by a fortress most
picturesque in appearance. It is difficult to estimate how many
inhabitants there actually were in the place in 1466, but there is
no doubt as to their energy and character. As mentioned before, the
artisans had acquired a high degree of skill in their specialty, and
their brass work was renowned far and wide. Pots and pans and other
utensils were known as _Dinanderies_.
The traffic in them was so important that Dinant had had her own
commercial relations with England for a long period. Her merchants
enjoyed the same privileges in London as the members of the Hanseatic
League, and an English company was held in high respect at Dinant.[14]
The brass-founders' gild ranked at Dinant as the drapers at Louvain,
and the weavers at Ghent. As a "great gild they formed a middle class
between the lower gilds and the _bourgeois_," the merchants and richer
folk.[15] In municipal matters each of these three classes had a
separate vote.
As it happened, Dinant had not been very ready to open hostilities
against the House of Burgundy though she was equally critical of Louis
of Bourbon in his episcopal misrule. It was undoubtedly her rivalry
with Bouvignes of Namur that brought her into the strife. That
neighbour had taunted her rival to exasperation, and the fact that
it was safe under the Duke of Burgundy and backed by him as Count of
Namur, had brought a Burgundian element into the local contest.
The incidents of the insult to Charles and the aspersion on his
mother's reputation undoubtedly were due to an irresponsible rabble
rather than to any action that could properly be attributed to the
leading men. Further, it really seems probable that the weight
attached to the insulting act never occurred to the respectable
burghers until they heard of it from others, so insignificant were the
participants in it.
As soon as it was realised that serious consequences might result
from reckless folly, the authorities were quite ready to separate
themselves from the event, and to arrest the culprits as common
malefactors. Once, indeed, the prisoners were temporarily rescued by
their friends, and it seemed to Burgundian sympathisers a suspicious
circumstance that this happened just at a moment when there was
renewed hope for help from Louis XI. When convinced that such hopes
were vain, the magistrates became seriously alarmed and ready to go
to any lengths to avert Burgundian vengeance. Finally the following
letter was despatched to the Duke of Burgundy:[16]
"The poor, humble and obedient servants and subjects of the most
reverend father in God, Louis of Bourbon, Bishop of Liege; and
your petty neighbours and borderers, the burgomaster's council and
folk of Dinant, humbly declare that it has come to their knowledge
that the wrath of your grace has been aroused against the town on
account of certain ill words spoken by some of the inhabitants
thereof, in contempt of your honourable person. The city is as
displeased about these words as it is possible to be, and far from
wishing to excuse the culprits has arrested as many as could be
found and now holds them in durance awaiting any punishment your
_grace_ may decree. As heartily and as lovingly as possible do
your petitioners beseech your grace to permit your anger to be
appeased, holding the people of Dinant exonerated, and resting
satisfied with the punishment of the guilty, inasmuch as the
people are bitterly grieved on account of the insults and have, as
before stated, arrested the culprits."
With further apologies for any failure of duty towards the Duke of
Burgundy, the petitioners humbly begged to be granted the same terms
that Liege and the other towns had received. March 31st is the date
of this humble document. Months of doubt followed before the terrible
experience of August proved the futility of their pleas, to which the
ducal family refused to listen, so deep was their sense of personal
aggrievement. Long as it was since the duchess had taken part in
public affairs, she, too, had a word to say here. And she, too, was
implacable against the town where any citizen had dared accuse her of
infidelity to her husband and to the Church whose interests were more
to her than anything in the world except her son.[17]
The petition was as unheeded as were all the representations of the
would-be mediators. Again Dinant turned in desperation to Louis XI.
and with assurances that after God his royal majesty was their only
hope, besought him from mere charity and pity to persuade his cousin
of Burgundy to forgive them. Apparently Louis took no notice of this
appeal. Dinant's last hope was that her fellow-communes of Liege would
refuse to ratify the treaty unless she, too, were included. The sole
concession, obtained by their envoys to Charles in the winter, had
been a short truce afterwards extended to May, 1466.
During that summer the critical position of the little town was well
known. Some sympathisers offered aid but it was aid that there was
possible danger in accepting. Many of the outlaws from Liege, who had
been expressly excluded from the terms of the peace, had joined the
ranks of a certain free lance company called "The Companions of the
Green Tent," as their only shelter was the interlaced branches of the
forest. To Dinant came this band to aid in her defence.[18] At one
time it seemed as though a peaceful accommodation might be reached but
it fell through. Not yet were the citizens ready to surrender their
charters--"Franchises,--to the rescue," was a frequent cry and no
treaty was made.
Philip, long inactive, resolved to assist at the reduction of this
place in person. Too feeble to ride, he was carried to the Meuse in a
litter, and arrived at Namur on August 14th. Then attended by a small
escort only, he proceeded to Bouvignes, a splendid vantage point
whence he could command a view of the scene of his son's intended
operations. As the crisis became imminent there were a few further
efforts to effect a reconciliation. When these failed, the town
prepared to meet the worst.[19] Stories gravely related by Du
Clercq[20] represent the people of Dinant goaded to actual fury of
resistance.
By August 7th, the Burgundian troops made their appearance, winding
down to the river. Conspicuous among the standards--and nobles from
all Philip's dominions were in evidence--was the banner of the Count
of Charolais, displaying St. George slaying the dragon.
On Tuesday, August 19th, Dinant was invested and the siege began.
Within the walls the most turbulent element had gained complete
control of affairs. All thought of prudence was thrown to the winds.
From the walls they hurled words at the foe:
"Is your old doll of a duke tired of life that you have brought him
here to perish?[21] Your Count Charlotel is a green sprout. Bid him
go fight the King of France at Montl'hêry. If he waits for the noble
Louis or the Liegeois he will have to take to his heels," etc.
It was a heavy siege and the town was riddled with cannon-balls but
there was no assault. By the sixth day the magistrates determined
to send their keys to the Count of Charolais and beg for mercy. The
captain of the great gild of coppersmiths, Jean de Guérin, tried to
encourage the faint-hearted to protest openly against this procedure.
Seizing the city colours he declared: "I will trust to no humane
sentiment. I am ready to carry this flag to the breach and to live or
die with you. If you surrender, I will quit the town before the foe
enter it." It was too late, the capitulation was made.
When the keys were brought to Charles he remembered that he was not
yet duke and ordered them presented to his father in his stead, and to
his half-brother Anthony was entrusted the task of formally accepting
the surrender.
It was late in the evening when the Bastard of Burgundy marched in. At
first he held the incoming troops well under control, but the stores
of wine were easy to reach, and by the morning there were wild scenes
of disorder. When Charles arrived, however, on the morrow, Tuesday,
just a week after the beginning of the siege, lawlessness was checked
with a strong hand. Any ill treatment of women was peculiarly
repugnant to him, and he did not hesitate to execute the sternest
justice upon offenders.[22]
[Illustration: ANTHONY OF BURGUNDY AFTER HANS MEMLING. DRESDEN
GALLERY]
His entry into the fallen town was made with all the wonted Burgundian
pomp. Nothing in the proceedings occurred in a headlong or passionate
manner. A council of war was held and the proceedings decided upon.
The cruelty that was exercised was used in deliberate punishment,
not in savage lawlessness. The personal insults to his mother and to
himself rankled in the count's mind. As one author remarks[23] with
undoubted reason, it is not likely that any of those responsible for
the insult were among those punished. After the siege, "pitiable it
was to see, for the innocent suffered and the guilty escaped."
Certain rich citizens bought their lives with large sums, others _were
sold as slaves,_[24] or were hanged or beheaded, or were thrown into
the Meuse.[25] In the monasteries, life was conceded to the inmates
but that was all. All their property was confiscated. The Count of St.
Pol, now Constable of France, tried to intercede for the citizens with
Philip who remained at Bouvignes, but to no result. It might have been
chance or it might have been intentional that at last flames completed
the work of destruction. The abode of Adolph of Cleves, at the corner
of Nôtre Dame, was found to be on fire at about one o'clock in the
morning of Thursday, August 28th.
That Charles was responsible for this conflagration Du Clercq thinks
is incredible.[26] He would certainly have saved all ecclesiastical
property which was almost completely consumed. Indeed, Charles gave
orders to extinguish the flames as soon as they were discovered, but
every one was so occupied with saving his own portion of booty that
nothing was accomplished and the town-hall caught fire and the church
of Nôtre Dame. From the latter some ornaments and treasures were saved
and the bones of Ste. Perpète, with other holy relics, were rescued by
Charles himself at risk to his own life.
"It was never known how the fire originated. Some say it was
due to a defective flue. To my mind," [concludes the pious
historian],[27] "it was the Divine Will that Dinant should be
destroyed on account of the pride and ill deeds of the people. I
trust to God who knows all. The duke's people alone lost more than
a hundred thousand crowns' value."
_Cy fust Dinant_, "Dinant was," is the sum of his description, four
days after the conflagration.[28]
On September 1st, Philip, who had remained at Bouvignes while all this
passed under the direction of Charles, took boat and sailed down to
Namur. It was almost a triumph,--that trip that proved one of the last
ever made by the proud duke--and the procession on the river and the
entry into Namur were closed by a humble embassy from Liege in regard
to certain points of their peace.
Du Clercq gravely relates, by the way, that the Count of St. Pol's men
had had no part in the plunder of Dinant. This was hard on the
poor fellows. Therefore, Philip turned over to their mercies, as a
compensation for this deprivation, the little town of Tuin, which had
been rebellious and then submitted. Tuin accepted its fate, submitted
to St. Pol, and then compounded the right of pillage for a round sum
of money. Moreover, they promised to lay low their gates and their
walls and those of St. Trond. In this way, it is said that the
constable made ten thousand Rhenish florins. Still both he and his men
felt ill-compensated for the loss of the booty of Dinant.
Charles continued a kind of harassing warfare on the various towns of
Liege territory. The people of Liege themselves seem to have varied
in their humour towards Charles, sometimes being very humble in their
petitions for peace and again very insolent. As a rule, this conduct
seems to be traceable to their hope of Louis's support. On September
7th, there was one pitched battle where victory decided the final
terms of the general peace, and after various skirmishes and
submissions, Charles disbanded his troops for the winter and joined
his father at Brussels.
[Footnote 1: _Doc. inédits sur l'hist. de France_. "Mélanges," ii.,
398.]
[Footnote 2: Polain, _Récits historiques sur l'ancien pays de Liège_,
I, etc.]
[Footnote 3: See Kirk, _Charles the Bold_, i., 329.]
[Footnote 4: Jacques de Hemricourt suggested four chief points of
difficulty in Liege government:
1. The size of the council--two hundred, where twenty would do.
2. The equal voice granted to all gilds without regard to size, when
all were assembled by the council to vote on a matter.
3. Extension of franchise to youths of fifteen.
4. Facile naturalisation laws. (_See_ Kirk, i., 325.)]
[Footnote 5: In many cases when the interdict was imposed, it is
probable that it was only partially operative.]
[Footnote 6: See Victor Hugo, _Le Rhin_, i. The Walloon dialect varies
greatly between the towns. Here are a few words of the "Prodigal Son"
as they are written in Liege, Huy, and Lille:
LIEGE. Jésus lizi d'ha co: In homme aveut deux fis. Li pus jone dérit
à s'père: père dinnez-m'con qui m'dent riv' ni di vosse bin; et l'père
lezi partagea s'bin.
HUY. Jésus l'zi d'ha co: Eun homme avut deux fis. Li peus jone dérit a
s'père etc.
LILLE. Jesus leu dit incore: un homme avot deux garchens. L'pus jeune
dit à sin père-mon père donez me ch que j'dor recouvre d'vo bien; et
l'père leu-z-a doné a chacun leu parchen.
See also _Doc. inédits concernant l'hist. de la Belgique_, ii., 238,
for comment on Scott's treatment of the language.]
[Footnote 7: The numbers are probably exaggerated. To-day it contains
about two hundred thousand.]
[Footnote 8: Du Clercq, iv., 203.]
[Footnote 9: Du Clercq, iv., 249.]
[Footnote 10: Du Clercq, iv., 239-262.]
[Footnote 11: Gachard, _Doc. inéd_., ii., 285, 322. For letters and
negotiations anterior to this peace see p. 197 _et seq_.]
[Footnote 12: Duclos, v., 236.]
[Footnote 13: Book ii., ch. i. To-day there are only about eight
thousand inhabitants.]
[Footnote 14: In addition to Commines and Du Clercq _see also_ Kirk,
i., 385, for quotations from Borgnet and others.]
[Footnote 15: Gachard, _Doc. inéd_., i., 213, _et passim_.]
[Footnote 16: Gachard, _Doc. inéd.,_ ii., 350.]
[Footnote 17: Est falme commune que tres haute princesse la ducesse
de Bourgogne, à cause desdictes injures at conclut telle hayne sur
cestedite ville de Dinant qu'elle a juré comme on dist que s'il li
devoit couster tout son vaellant, fera ruynner cestedite ville en
mettant toutes personnes à l'espée. (Gachard, _Doc. inéd_., ii.,
222.)]
[Footnote 18: Gachard, _Doc. inéd_., ii., 337, _et passim_.]
[Footnote 19: Du Clercq, iv., 273.]
[Footnote 20: He says messengers were put to death without regard to
their sacred office, even a little child being torn limb from limb.
Priests were thrown into the river for refusing to say mass, and the
situation was strained to the last degree.]
[Footnote 21: _Qui a mandé ce vieil monnart vostre duc_, etc.]
[Footnote 22: Du Clercq, iv., 278.]
[Footnote 23: De Ram, _Documents relatifs aux troubles du pays de
Liége,_ "Henricus de Merica," p. 159.]
[Footnote 24: Vel vendebantur in servos. See De Ram _et passim_ for
documents.]
[Footnote 25: It seems to be well attested that the prisoners were
tied together and drowned.]
[Footnote 26: Du Clercq, iv., 280.]
[Footnote 27: _Ibid._, 281.]
[Footnote 28: In 1472, a new church was erected "on the spot formerly
called Dinant" and after that, little by little, the town came to
life. (Gachard, _Analectes Belgiques_, 318, etc.).]