THE GAMING-TABLES AT SPA--THE FRENCH REVOLUTION--ANNEXATION OF THE
PRINCIPALITY
Already two Princes of Bavaria had been Bishops of Liége, and now a
third succeeded, Prince Maximilian Henry, who filled this uneasy throne
from 1650 to 1688.
During most of that time the armies of almost every nation in Europe
swept like a flood over the Principality; but the most important
transaction of Maximilian's reign was the establishment of a new system
for the election of magistrates. This system, which came into force
in November, 1684, and was known as the 'Réglement de Maximilien de
Bavière,' deprived the lower classes of that direct power of election
which they had so long abused, and divided it between the Bishops and
the middle class. The result of this measure was that there was quiet,
if not harmony, within the walls of Liége for the next hundred years.
During that period, from 1684 to 1784, the valley of the Meuse was
frequently the seat of war in the various campaigns of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries.
More tranquil times came with the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1748,
when the Austrian Netherlands were restored to the Empress Maria
Theresa. It was, indeed, only a calm between two storms. But for
some years the arts of peace flourished in the valley of the Meuse;
and side by side with a remarkable progress of industry and commerce
the intellectual activity of the people increased. An association,
called the 'Société d'Emulation,' was formed, chiefly for the study of
French literature; and soon the works of Voltaire, of Diderot, and of
d'Alembert were read by all classes. The clergy tried to forbid the
purchase of such books, but in vain. Amongst the working class the
favourite authors were those who attacked the clergy; and the writings
of Voltaire became so popular that secret meetings were held in many
of the country villages for the purpose of hearing them read aloud.
Thus, beneath the surface, the spirit of inquiry and free thought was
fostered. Already in France the first murmurs of the coming storm were
heard; and in Liége people began to speak about the 'rights of man,'
to question the dogmas of the Church, and to ridicule the priests at
whose feet their forefathers had knelt for so many hundred years.
While these new forces were gathering strength, César de Hoensbroeck,
one of the Canons of St. Lambert, became Bishop, on July 21, 1784. A
trifling dispute with which his reign began was the prelude to very
serious events. For many years a company called the 'Société Deleau'
had enjoyed a monopoly of the gaming-tables at Spa, under a grant
from the Bishops of Liége, to whom a third of the profits were paid.
In 1785 one Levoz, a citizen of Liége, opened a new gambling-house,
which he called the 'Club.' The Société Deleau protested against this
infringement of its monopoly. Levoz and his friends replied that by law
the Bishops had no right to grant a monopoly without the sanction of
the estates; and at last the case was laid before the Imperial Chamber
of the German Empire.
This petty quarrel, so trivial in its origin, had run its course
for more than two years, when suddenly it was raised into a grave
controversy by one of the partisans of Levoz, Nicolas Bassenge, who
published a series of letters in which he declared that the liberties
of the country were at stake. 'It is not,' he said, 'a mere question
about a game of hazard.' Which is to be supreme, he asked, the Prince
or the people? Who has the right to make laws or grant monopolies? The
chief of the State is not its master, but merely the instrument of the
national will. Others followed Bassenge in the same strain; and more
letters, fresh recriminations, hot words and angry answers, added fuel
to the fire.
Levoz, tired of waiting for a decision from the Imperial Chamber,
leased his Club to a manager, Paul Redouté, who opened it with dancing
added to the attractions of dice and cards. The Bishop sent 200
soldiers to Spa, who closed the Club tables, and forbade all gaming
except in the rooms to which he had granted the monopoly. A warrant
was issued for the arrest of Redouté and M. Ransonnet, who had fought
in the American War of Independence, and was now a leader among the
disaffected party in Liége. The latter fled to Brussels, where the
Brabant revolution against Joseph II. was approaching its climax,
and sent letters to Liége, in which he said that a plan was on foot
to establish a republic consisting of Brabant and the Principality
of Liége. Would it not, he asked, be a glorious work to confine the
Bishops to their Apostolic mission, as in the days of St. Hubert?
Words like these made a deep impression at a time when the old
influences of tradition and custom were beginning to lose their force.
[Illustration: PONT DU PROPHÈTE, PROMENADE MEYERBEER, SPA WOODS]
In the spring and summer of 1789 there was much suffering among the
poor, owing to a bad season; and the Bishop arranged to celebrate July
21, the anniversary of his election, by a distribution of bread among
the destitute. But before July 21 came, horsemen had galloped up the
Valley of the Meuse with tidings of the wonderful things which had been
done in France. 'Workers of iniquity,' Bassenge wrote, 'behold Paris,
and tremble!'
The Bastille had fallen on July 14, and a month later almost to a day,
on August 16, the revolution in Liége began. For two days the people
did nothing but march about the streets; but very early on the morning
of Tuesday the 18th the tocsin was sounding over the town, and soon
the market-place was filled by an immense crowd, all wearing cockades
of red and yellow, the national colours. Baron de Chestret marched at
the head of 200 armed men into the Hôtel de Ville, and expelled the
burgomasters. This was followed by the election, at the famous Perron,
of new burgomasters, one of them being Baron de Chestret, who, later in
the day, went with a number of the insurgents to the Bishop's palace
at Seraing, and demanded his presence in the city, and his written
approval of what had been done. The Bishop, adorned with a red and
yellow cockade, was hurried to Liége by the mob, who crowded round his
carriage, shouting, blowing trumpets, and beating drums. The horses
were taken out, and the rioters drew him to the Hôtel de Ville, and
brought him into a room where the light of a single candle showed a
number of men waiting for him sword in hand. A threatening voice came
from the darkness, saying, 'The nation demands your signature. Make
haste!' and the Bishop forthwith signed a number of documents which
were placed before him, without waiting to read the contents. On
the morrow he returned to Seraing; but a few days later he departed
secretly for Tréves.
For nearly two years the Imperial Chamber was occupied with the
question of Liége; but at last, when the revolution in Brabant had been
suppressed, an Austrian army entered the Principality. Everything which
the revolutionary party had done since August 18, 1789, was declared
null and void. The burgomasters who had been expelled were restored to
office. Those Canons of St. Lambert who had fled were brought back, and
the Bishop himself returned. The Société d'Emulation, which had done
so much to encourage the study of Voltaire, was suppressed. Sentences
of banishment, and even of death, were pronounced against some of those
who had led the revolt; and there can be little doubt that Bishop
Hoensbroeck earned the title of 'prêtre sanguinaire,' which was given
him at the Courts of Berlin and Vienna. He died in June, 1792; and
in August of that year his nephew, the Comte de Méan, was elected by
the Chapter. But before the new Bishop's inauguration the army of the
French Republic, fresh from its victory at Jemappes, having driven
the Austrians beyond the Meuse, took possession of Liége. This was on
November 28, 1792.
* * * * *
Dumouriez, who had entered Brussels without opposition, received a
hearty welcome at Liége, where the popular sentiment was in favour of
an union with France; and in every part of the Principality resolutions
were passed for incorporating the country with the Republic. It is said
that, shortly before August 18, 1789, Mirabeau dined at Liége with
Bassenge and some of the revolutionary leaders, when the conversation
turned on the affair of Spa. The constitution of Liége was explained
to him. 'And you are not contented with that?' he said. 'Gentlemen, let
me tell you that if in France we had enjoyed half your privileges, we
would have thought ourselves happy.' But there had always been a charm
in the word 'Republic' for the people of Liége. 'Men of Liége,' said
Nicolas Bassenge, when the National Convention at Paris decreed the
annexation of the Netherlands, 'our lot is fixed: we are French. To
live or die Frenchmen is the wish of our hearts, and no wish was ever
so pure, so earnest, or so unanimous.'
Thomas Bassenge, brother of Nicolas, was at this time a member of the
Municipal Council of Liége; and in February, 1793, he persuaded the
magistrates to celebrate the revolution by destroying the Cathedral
of St. Lambert, which stood near the Episcopal Palace of Érard de la
Marck. The front of this church, the finest ecclesiastical building
in the Principality, was a mass of elaborate carving. Statues of
angels and archangels, of patriarchs and prophets, of martyrs and of
saints, rose one above the other, and over them innumerable pinnacles
were interlaced by a maze of slender arches, crossing each other
with tracery so delicate as almost to resemble lace. Beneath this
profusion of stonework the great doorway was adorned with marble
statues of the benefactors of the church from the chisel of Lambert
Zoutman, a sculptor of Liége; and in the interior of the building,
with its marble columns and windows of old stained glass, were many
paintings, the tombs of the Bishops, rich tapestries, a jewelled bust
of Lambert, and many objects of value, amongst which were two golden
statues sent by Charles the Bold to the shrine of the patron saint, as
an act of expiation after he had destroyed the town. This building,
which had survived the great disaster of the fifteenth century, was
now completely wrecked. The statues and the monuments were cast down.
The mausoleum of Érard de la Marck was sold and broken up. The graves
were opened, the bones thrown out, and the lead of the coffins used for
bullets. The clocks were sent up the Meuse in barges to France, and
there turned into copper money. Everything valuable was removed, and
soon nothing remained but the bare walls, which in a few years crumbled
into ruins. Thus the long line of the Bishop-Princes of Liége, and the
place in which for centuries they had been inaugurated, fell together.