THE DUKES OF BURGUNDY--DESTRUCTION OF LIÉGE BY CHARLES THE BOLD
The whole story of Liége and the Ardennes is full of episodes, like
the war of the cow of Ciney. It would be easy to fill volumes with
tales of adventures in the Valley of the Meuse, and under the walls
of Liége--how castles were taken by strategy or by open assault; how
ladies were carried off, and rescued by some daring feat of arms; how
desperate encounters were fought out in the depths of the forest; how
bandits roamed about, killing and robbing as they pleased; how almost
the only place where a woman felt safe was a convent; how the peasants
were oppressed; and how the common people of the towns lived in a
state of chronic mutiny. All these things make up the story of how
men and women lived in what is now one of the most peaceful regions
in Europe. The glamour of chivalry does not conceal the fierce and
revengeful spirit of every class. A history of this part of Belgium,
written as Sir Walter Scott wrote the history of Scotland, would be as
entertaining as the 'Tales of a Grandfather.'
Nowhere could a richer field be found for the plots of historical
fiction; and it is not strange that the author of 'Ivanhoe' should have
chosen it as the scene of a romance. In 'Quentin Durward' history is,
of course, subordinate to fiction. The murder of the Bishop of Liége
is represented as taking place fifteen years before its real date.
The description of the tragedy has no resemblance to what actually
happened. The people of the Principality are made to speak Flemish
instead of French or their native Walloon. But such dry-as-dust
criticisms would be absurd, and the 'true king of the romantics' has
reproduced, with inimitable skill, the spirit of the long, bloody drama
in which Louis of France and Charles of Burgundy were the chief actors.
[Illustration: LA MAISON CURTIUS, LIÉGE]
About the middle of the fifteenth century the House of Burgundy was
at the summit of its power, and held sway over Flanders and Brabant,
Hainaut, Namur, and Luxembourg. But the ecclesiastical Principality
of Liége, though wedged in between Brabant, Luxembourg, and Namur,
remained a separate state. Ever since the charter of Albert de
Cuyck the power of the commons had grown, and with it their
determination to maintain their liberty and independence. Nor were
the nobles more inclined to exchange the bishops for other rulers,
especially if these were to be the Dukes of Burgundy. For the House
of Burgundy had been detested in Liége since the winter of 1408, when
Bishop John of Bavaria--_Jean sans Pitie_, as he was called by his
subjects--had crushed a revolution, which his tyranny had produced, by
calling to his aid the Duke of Burgundy and the Counts of Hainaut and
Namur. On November 24, 1408, in a battle at Othée, near Tongres, the
revolutionary army of Liége, 30,000 strong, had been defeated, and a
massacre followed, the horrors of which had never been forgotten. The
triumph of John of Bavaria and his merciless oppressions were due to
the support which he received from the arms of Burgundy, and the result
was that afterwards, during the struggle between Philip the Good, Duke
of Burgundy, and France, the sympathies of Liége were always on the
side of France.
In 1430, when Jean de Heinsberg was Bishop of Liége, the Burgundian
Governor of Namur forbade the town of Dinant to repair its walls. The
men of Liége marched towards Dinant, burning castles and villages
on their way. Another war seemed inevitable; but the Bishop, who had
accompanied the army, apparently against his will, prevented this
calamity by going on his knees to Philip and humbly asking pardon for
the excesses which his vassals had committed. The people of Liége,
however, indignant at this humiliation, became so turbulent that
the Bishop was several times on the point of resigning. It appears,
nevertheless, that his resignation was forced upon him by the Duke of
Burgundy.
Heinsberg had promised a certain benefice to Louis de Bourbon, the
Duke's nephew, but gave it to another claimant. Philip having sent an
envoy to demand an explanation, the Bishop said: 'Let His Highness
have patience. I intend him for a better benefice than that.' 'Which?'
he was asked. 'The one I hold myself,' he replied. He soon repented
of this rash promise, and was about to journey into France and ask
protection from the King, when Philip invited him to The Hague. There
he was treated with all honour till the day of his departure, when the
Duke suddenly asked him if he intended to fulfil his promise about the
bishopric. Heinsberg declared that he would certainly keep his word,
but was, in spite of what he had said, taken into a dark room, where
he found a Franciscan and an executioner, clothed in black and armed
with a naked sword, awaiting him. 'Most Reverend Seigneur,' said the
Franciscan, 'you have twice broken faith with the Duke. Resign at once,
or prepare to die.'
At these words, so the story goes, Bishop Heinsberg was so terrified
that he signed his resignation on the spot in favour of Louis de
Bourbon, who was not yet in Holy Orders, and was, indeed, a mere youth
of eighteen, a student at the University of Louvain, whither his uncle
had sent him to be educated. The Chapter of St. Lambert, by whom
the bishops had always been chosen, complained; but the appointment
was confirmed by the Holy See, and the whole spiritual and secular
administration of the Principality passed into the hands of the young
prelate.
This was a triumph for the House of Burgundy, which had long aimed
at extending its influence to the Principality of Liége; but in it
few years the clergy, the nobility, and the people united against the
Duke's nephew, and combined to drive him from the management of their
affairs. In order to protect themselves against Philip, who might
interfere on behalf of his nephew, they appointed as regent Mark of
Baden, brother-in-law of the Emperor Frederick III., who came to Liége
attended by a body of German troops.
The prospect of a war in the Belgian provinces, which would compel
the Duke of Burgundy to withdraw a part of his army from France, was
hailed with joy by Louis XI. He promised help, both in men and money,
to the people of Liége, who forthwith assembled in arms. Charles the
Bold, Philip's son, at that time known as the Comte de Charolais,
was then fighting in France; but a force of Burgundians, sent by his
father, had no difficulty in defeating the raw army of Liége, which,
left to its own resources by the Germans, was cut to pieces on the
field of Montenac in the autumn of 1465. Louis XI., instead of coming
to the assistance of the Liégeois, sent a letter advising them to
make peace with Philip before the redoubtable Comte de Charolais made
his appearance in their territory; and a convention was signed which
laid the Liégeois at the feet of the Duke of Burgundy, who became
Regent of the Principality. Peace was duly proclaimed at the Perron
in the market-place of Liége. But the ruling party at Dinant were so
foolhardy as to declare war against Namur. On this Charles the Bold
besieged Dinant.
Messengers sent from the Burgundian camp with a
summons to surrender were murdered by the townsmen, who in a short
time saw their walls breached by heavy guns brought from the arsenals
of Brabant. Then they offered to negotiate for a capitulation, but the
offer was refused. Dinant was taken, sacked, and burned. The Hôtel de
Ville was blown up by an explosion of gunpowder. The cathedral was
almost entirely destroyed. A number of wealthy citizens who had been
made prisoners and confined in a building adjoining the cathedral
were burned alive. Eight hundred persons, tied together in pairs,
were thrown into the Meuse and drowned. The work of vengeance was not
finished until every house had been demolished; for Charles of Burgundy
had declared that a day would come when travellers, passing up the
Valley of the Meuse, would ask where it was that Dinant had once stood.
Philip the Good died at Bruges in June, 1467, and Charles the Bold
became Duke of Burgundy. The new reign began with troubles in Flanders
and Brabant, and these had scarcely been overcome when there was a
fresh rising at Liége, so dissatisfied were the people with the terms
of peace, which, arranged after the terrible Battle of Montenac, left
them subject to the House of Burgundy. Frenchmen, sent by the King on
the pretext of mediating between Louis de Bourbon and his vassals,
encouraged the popular discontent, which rose to such a height that
the town of Huy, where the Bishop lived, was attacked and plundered.
The Bishop fled to Namur, but some of his servants and some partisans
of Burgundy were slain. Charles, exasperated beyond all bounds,
marched against Liége. On his arrival, 300 of the burghers came forth,
imploring mercy and offering him the keys of the town. He spared their
lives, but only on the condition that he was to enter the town and
there dictate his own terms. This condition was accepted, and Charles
rode in. The Bishop of Liége and Cardinal La Balue, the Ambassador of
Louis XI., were with him. On one side of the street stood the burghers,
and on the other the priests, all as penitents, with heads uncovered
and torches in their hands. Charles dismounted at the Bishop's palace,
where, a few days later, in the presence of a vast assemblage of
people, he pronounced sentence on the town and Principality of Liége.
Most of the privileges which had been granted from time to time since
the charter of Albert de Cuyck were abolished. An appeal from the
civil judges to the Bishop and his council was established. The
seat of the bishopric was removed from Liége, and it was ordained that
the spiritual court was to sit at Maestricht, Louvain, or Namur. The
Bishop was forbidden to levy taxes on produce carried up or down the
Meuse without leave from the Duke of Brabant, and the Counts of Hainaut
and Namur. It was decreed that the people of the Principality must
never take arms against Burgundy, go to war, or make alliances without
the Duke's permission. The walls and gates of Liége, and of all other
towns in the Principality, were to be destroyed; the manufacture of
arms was forbidden; the Perron was to be removed, and the Duke was to
do with it as he pleased.
[Illustration: LE ROCHER BAYARD, DINANT]
These articles, and many more, all of them framed for the purpose of
curbing the spirit of the Liégeois, were embodied in the deed which
was read aloud in the Bishop's palace on November 26, 1467. The Bishop
and all the notables having sworn to obey it, Charles told them that
if they kept true to their oath he, in return, would protect them.
The sentence which was thus pronounced was rigorously executed. Many
of the popular faction fled to France; others took refuge among the
Ardennes; some were executed. The Perron was carried away to Bruges,
and there engraved with an inscription full of insults to the people
of Liége; the walls of the town were thrown down; spies went about the
country districts watching the villagers and gathering information. So
universal was the feeling of suspicion and fear, and so heavy were the
taxes levied on the wealthy, that many families abandoned all their
possessions and went into exile.
These doings had been watched at Rome; and presently a papal legate,
the Bishop of Tricaria, came to Liége, and advised Louis de Bourbon to
resist the violence of the Duke's agents, and recall by degrees those
who had fled or been banished from the country. But the youthful Bishop
preferred to live at Brussels, where the brilliant and luxurious life
of the Burgundian Court was in full swing. He took such delight in the
fêtes for which the gay capital of Brabant was famous that he actually
attempted to reproduce them in his own desolate Principality, and on
one occasion came sailing up the Meuse from Maestricht in a barge
painted with all the colours of the rainbow, and made his appearance
before the ruined walls of Liége surrounded by musicians and buffoons.
Meanwhile, in the dark recesses of the Ardennes a band of the exiles
had been wandering about, sleeping on the bare ground in the open air,
clothed in rags, starving, and ready for mischief. These men, under
the leadership of Jean de Ville, hearing that Liége was unguarded, and
that war was likely to break out once more between Burgundy and France,
marched from the forest to Liége, and complained to the Pope's legate.
He went to the Bishop, who was then at Maestricht, and laid before him
the miserable condition of the country. The Bishop promised that he
would return to Liége; but Charles the Bold, from whom nothing was hid,
wrote and told him that, as soon as he had settled his affairs with the
King of France, he was coming to the Principality to punish these new
rebels against his authority. On this the Bishop, instead of going to
Liége, went with the legate to Tongres.
This desertion drove Jean de Ville and his followers to despair. They
made a night march to Tongres, surprised the Bishop's guards, some
of whom they killed, and persuaded, or, rather, compelled, Louis and
the Pope's legate to come with them to Liége. The war on which the
insurgents counted when they thus captured the Bishop did not break
out. On the contrary, negotiations had commenced, and ambassadors from
France were discussing terms of peace with Charles at the very time of
the raid on Tongres.
The summer of 1468 was a time of splendour at the Court of Burgundy. On
June 25 Margaret of York, attended by a brilliant company of English
lords and ladies, sailed into the harbour of Sluis, where she was met
by Charles the Bold. A week later they journeyed by the canal to the
ancient town of Damme, where their marriage was celebrated at five
o'clock on the morning of July 3. On that same day they entered Bruges
in state, followed by a train of sixty ladies of the greatest families
of England and Burgundy, and surrounded by nobles and princes who wore
the Order of the Golden Fleece. The famous tournament of the Tree of
Gold was held, after the marriage feast, in the market-place, and the
revels continued for eight days longer. All was bright and gay in
Flanders; but far away among the Ardennes dark clouds were gathering
over the Valley of the Meuse.
In the beginning of October the headquarters of the Burgundian army
were at Peronne on the Somme. Louis XI. went thither with only a small
escort, and sought an interview with Charles. Whatever his motive may
have been for putting himself in the power of his rival, he had soon
good reason to repent of his rashness. A party of Burgundians from
Liége arrived at Peronne, accused the rebels of gross cruelty to the
Bishop and to the Duke's friends, and asserted that some Frenchmen
had taken part in the affair at Tongres. Charles, on hearing their
statements, burst into one of his fits of uncontrollable anger. 'I
know,' he cried, 'who is at the bottom of all this,' and forthwith
locked up the King of France in the citadel of Peronne. After three
days, during which Louis went in fear of his life, and Charles
meditated all sorts of vengeance, the King was set free, and swore a
solemn oath that he would assist Charles to punish the Liégeois.
Then the allied forces of France and Burgundy marched into the
Principality. When they approached Liége the Bishop and the papal
legate met them, and endeavoured to make terms for the people, throwing
themselves on their knees before Charles, and beseeching him not to
punish the innocent and the guilty alike. The Bishop, it was pointed
out, had pardoned the affront which he had received; but the Duke
forbade them to speak of pardon. He was master, he said, of the lives
and property of these incorrigible rebels, and he would do with them as
he pleased. After this there was nothing more to be said. The doom of
Liége had been spoken.
A sally, made during the night by Jean de Ville and his men, though
it threw the Burgundian outposts into confusion, had no effect but
to increase the Duke's anger; and on Sunday, October 30, he entered
the town at the head of his army, passing over the ruins of the old
walls. There was no resistance. The streets were empty. The wealthier
inhabitants, and all who had made themselves prominent in the recent
disturbances, had fled to the Ardennes with their families, taking away
as many of their possessions as they could carry. A great multitude of
poor people, women, children, and old men, had concealed themselves
in the cellars of their houses. Charles and the King rode through a
deserted town till they came to the Hôtel de Ville. Here the Duke waved
his sword on high, and shouted, 'Vive Bourgoyne!' The King of France
drew his, and shouted likewise, 'Vive Bourgoyne!' and at this signal
40,000 soldiers were let loose.
[Illustration: OLD HOUSE OF THE QUAI DE LA GOFFE, LIÉGE]
The people were dragged from their places of concealment and slain.
Many who escaped immediate death ran to the churches for shelter. The
priests, with crucifixes in their hands, came to the doors and
implored the soldiers not to enter. They were cut down, and those whom
they had tried to protect were killed, even on the steps of the altars.
Old men and children were trampled underfoot. Young girls were outraged
before their mothers' eyes, or put to death, shrieking and imploring
mercy. Churches, convents, private houses were alike pillaged. Tombs
were broken open in the search for plunder, and the bones of the dead
were thrown out. Those who were suspected of possessing valuables
were tortured to make them confess where their treasures were hidden.
As the day went on every street in Liége ran with blood like a
slaughter-house, till at last the soldiers grew tired of killing their
victims one by one, and, tying them together in bundles of a dozen or
more persons, threw them into the Meuse, where men and women, old and
young, perished in one struggling mass. It is said that nearly 50,000
died, most of them in the town or by drowning in the river, but many
from cold and famine among the Ardennes.
The horrors of the sacking of Dinant had been surpassed. Charles,
however, was not yet satisfied. His real wish was to wipe Liége from
the face of the earth--to destroy it utterly; but before doing so, he
made a pretence of consulting Louis of France. The King, who understood
him thoroughly, replied: 'Opposite my father's bedroom there was a
tree, in which some troublesome birds had built their nest, and made
such a noise that he could not sleep. He destroyed the nest three
times, but they always returned. At last, on the advice of a friend, he
cut down the tree, and after that he was able to repose in peace.'
Charles took this hint as it was meant, and gave orders that Liége was
to be set on fire, and every building of stone, except the churches and
the houses of the clergy, pulled down. These orders were carried out
to the letter. The flames consumed row after row of houses, and any
edifice not made of wood was undermined by the pickaxes of an army of
workmen who laboured for seven weeks, till at last nothing remained of
Liége but churches and the dwellings of the priests standing forlorn
amidst a heap of smoking ruins. While the work of destruction was in
progress Charles embarked for Maestricht, sent the Pope's legate back
to Rome with the news of what had befallen the bishopric of Liége, and,
having ravaged all the country for miles around, departed for his own
dominions.
The years passed on, and at last there came a time when the voice
which shouted 'Vive Bourgoyne!' in Liége was silent, the sword fallen
from the hand which had waved it as a signal for the massacre, and the
proud head of the conqueror brought very low. On Tuesday, January 7,
1477, two days after the fight at Nancy, in which Duke René of Lorraine
had defeated the Burgundian army, a young page, Jean Baptiste Colonna,
son of a noble Roman house, was guiding a party who were searching
for the body of Charles the Bold to where he thought he had seen his
master fall during the battle. Not far from the town, near the chapel
of St. Jean de l'Atre, they found a heap of dead men lying naked among
snow and ice and frozen blood in the bed of a small stream. One of the
searchers, a poor washerwoman who had served in the Duke's household,
saw a ring which she recognized on a finger of one of the corpses, and
exclaimed: 'Ah! Mon Prince!' When they raised the head from the ice to
which it was frozen the skin of one cheek peeled off. Wolves or dogs
had been gnawing the other. A stroke from some battle-axe had split
the head down to the chin. But when the blood had been washed from the
disfigured face it was known, beyond all doubt, for that of Charles
the Bold.
They buried him before the altar of St. Sebastian in the
Church of St. George at Nancy, where the body of the great warrior
remained till 1550. when, in the reign of Charles V., it was carried
into Flanders, and laid beside that of his daughter Marie in the choir
of Notre Dame at Bruges.