Ferdinand of Bavaria's reign was one long quarrel with the magistrates of LiÉge. He soon found that during his uncle's frequent absences in Germany the burgomasters had usurped many powers which had hitherto belonged to the Bishop. They issued their own decrees without his authority, and sometimes cancelled his orders without consulting him. They took upon themselves to appoint officers, to call the citizens to arms, and to send representatives to foreign Courts. Their pretensions, in short, had risen so high as to make it evident that they aimed at nothing less than supreme power.

At last a time came when matters were brought to a crisis by the election as burgomasters of two popular candidates, William Beeckmann and SÉbastien La Ruelle, whom the people insisted on choosing against the wishes of Ferdinand, who had irritated the LiÉgeois by bringing German and Spanish troops into the Principality to support his rights. Beeckmann died suddenly. A rumour that he had been poisoned by the Bishop's friends inflamed the passions of the mob, who listened eagerly to La Ruelle when he told them that the intimate relations of their Prince with Austria and Spain were dangerous to the independence of the country.

There were at this time two factions in LiÉge—the 'Chiroux' and the 'Grignoux.' It appears that some young men of rank had returned from a visit to Paris dressed in the latest fashion, with white stockings and boots falling over their calves, which made the wits of the town say that they were like a breed of swallows known as 'Chiroux.' One day, at the Church of St. Lambert, some of the populace, seeing a party of these dandies, called out, 'Chiroux! Chiroux!' The others answered back with cries of 'Grignoux'—that is, Grognards, or malcontents. Hence the nicknames. The Chiroux supported the Bishop, while the Grignoux opposed him. The former were, like Ferdinand, for maintaining close relations with Germany, while the latter were supposed to court a friendship with the King of France. At this juncture we come across one of the most curious episodes in the story of LiÉge.

LE PERRON LIÉGEOIS, LIÉGE

A Baron de Pesche, who lived in the district between the Sambre and the Meuse, having a lawsuit before the judges at LiÉge, requested one of his kinsmen, the AbbÉ de Mouzon, a Frenchman, to manage the case. De Mouzon, an acute man with a talent for political intrigue, made full use of his opportunities, and soon knew all about the feud between the Chiroux and the Grignoux, the existence of German and French factions, and everything that was going on in LiÉge. He informed the Ministers of Louis XIII. that the people of LiÉge were at heart favourable to France, and that the ties which bound them to Germany could easily be broken, as the Bishop was very seldom in the Principality, and had no real influence with his subjects. He had, he told the French Government, made friends with the most important men in the city, and was in a position to render great services to France, provided he was furnished with proper credentials. The result was that he received a commission as French resident, or envoy, at LiÉge. He then paid attentions to La Ruelle and his party, for the purpose of persuading them to further the interests of France and break with Germany, and played his part so well that the Chiroux leaders, becoming alarmed, sent a message to the Bishop, advising him to be on his guard against the intrigues of the French envoy and the Grignoux.

Ferdinand, on receiving this warning, despatched Count Louis of Nassau to LiÉge with a letter to the magistrates, in which he reprimanded them severely, and accused them of a treasonable correspondence with France. La Ruelle answered in acrimonious terms, declaring that the country was being ruined by German soldiers sent there by the Bishop. To this Ferdinand replied that, as the LiÉgeois would not do their duty as loyal subjects willingly, he would find means to compel them; and presently an army of Imperial troops marched into the Principality, and encamped near LiÉge.

And now a new actor comes upon the scene. The Count of WarfusÉe, who had been employed in turn by Spain and Holland, and betrayed them both, was at this time living in banishment at LiÉge. Posing as an adherent of the French side, he secured the confidence of La Ruelle and the AbbÉ de Mouzon, for both of whom he professed a warm friendship; but, in reality, he was in correspondence with the Court at Brussels, and had promised that, if a few soldiers were placed at his disposal, he would crush the French party in LiÉge.

On April 17, 1637, he gave a dinner-party, to which La Ruelle, AbbÉ de Mouzon, and other guests were invited. When La Ruelle arrived, accompanied by a young manservant named Jaspar, WarfusÉe gave him a jovial greeting. Then, noticing Jaspar, he exclaimed, 'Ah! there's my good friend; I know him well,' and showed the way to the kitchen, saying: 'You must enjoy yourself to-day, and drink to the health of Burgomaster La Ruelle.'

The company sat down to dinner in a room on the ground floor, the windows of which had iron bars across them, and opened on a courtyard in the middle of the building. Count WarfusÉe sat next the door, with M. Marchand, an advocate, beside him. La Ruelle and the AbbÉ were on the other side of the table. Baron de Saizan, a Frenchman, and several other gentlemen were present, and also some ladies, among whom were the Baroness de Saizan and Count WarfusÉe's four daughters. Every one was in the highest spirits. The Count declared he felt so happy that he intended to get drunk, and invited all the rest to follow his example. Calling for big glasses, he challenged de Mouzon to a revel. The AbbÉ proposed the health of the Most Christian King; and this toast was duly drunk, the gentlemen rising, and uncovering their heads.

During the first course the merriment of the party increased; but suddenly the Count's manner changed, and one of the company was bantering him about his gravity, when, as the servants were bringing in the second course, his valet de chambre came and whispered in his ear. WarfusÉe nodded, and immediately twenty soldiers, each holding a drawn sword in one hand and a firelock in the other, entered the room, bowed, and surrounded the table. The guests supposed that this was some pleasantry devised for their amusement; and La Ruelle asked his host what it meant. 'Nothing,' answered WarfusÉe—'do not move;' but as he spoke a band of Spaniards appeared at the windows, and levelled their muskets through the bars. WarfusÉe, pointing to Jaspar, who was waiting on his master, ordered the soldiers to remove him. He was seized and turned out of the room. The Count then shouted, 'Arrest the burgomaster!'

'What? Arrest me?' exclaimed La Ruelle, rising and throwing his napkin on the table.

'Yes, you,' replied WarfusÉe, 'and AbbÉ de Mouzon, and Baron de Saizan also.'

The soldiers took La Ruelle, and dragged him out; and WarfusÉe, shouting at the top of his voice, declared that he was acting under the orders of the Emperor, and of His Royal Highness the Bishop. They had, he said, borne long enough with the intrigues of the French, and the authority of the Prince must be re-established. A scene of the wildest confusion followed. WarfusÉe rushed into the courtyard, and loaded La Ruelle with insults. 'Ropes, ropes for the burgomaster!' he shouted. 'Ah! you traitor! your heart is in my hands today. See, here are the orders of the Prince'; and he pulled some papers out of his pocket. 'Make your peace with God, for you must die.' Jaspar, the servant, who was standing near, already bound, is said to have exclaimed, when he heard these words, 'Oh, master, have I not always said what would happen?'

All in vain La Ruelle begged for mercy. Two Dominicans, sent for to shrive the victim, implored the Count to pause; but 'Kill him, kill him! Make haste. Lose no more time,' was his answer to their entreaties, and to those of his own daughters, who besought him, with tears, to spare the unfortunate man's life. Some of the soldiers refused to touch the burgomaster, and told WarfusÉe to his face that they were not assassins. But at last three Spaniards drew their daggers, and stabbed La Ruelle repeatedly till he was dead.

His cries were heard in the room where De Mouzon, fearing that his own last hour had come, was waiting with the other guests under guard of the soldiers. The Dominicans entered; and all were crowding round them, pouring out confessions and clamouring for absolution, when WarfusÉe came to the door, and told them that the burgomaster was dead, and that he had died repenting of his misdeeds, and seeking forgiveness from God, the Emperor, and the Bishop. Having said this, he went away again.

In the meantime a report had spread through the town that something unusual was happening. It was said that a band of Spanish soldiers had been seen to cross the Meuse, and go to the Count of WarfusÉe's house, where the burgomaster was known to be dining that day; and every one suspected that they had been sent to arrest La Ruelle, De Mouzon, WarfusÉe, and their friends. So a cousin of the burgomaster's went to find out if this was the case. When he reached the door of the house he found a crowd of people, who told him they had heard cries from within and the clash of arms, and that there was a rumour that the burgomaster had been murdered.

On hearing this, he knocked at the door, which was opened by the Count, who let him enter with a few of his friends.

LA VIEILLE BOUCHERIE, LIÉGE

'Tell me, gentlemen,' said WarfusÉe, 'do you wish to be Spanish, or French, or Dutch?'

'No,' they replied, 'we wish to remain what we are—neutrals and true LiÉgeois.'

'What would you think,' the Count asked them, 'if you heard that La Ruelle has sold your country to France?'

'We would not believe it,' they all replied.

'Do you know his signature?' WarfusÉe inquired, showing them some documents.

'These are forgeries,' they told him.

'No matter!' exclaimed the Count;' I had orders to kill La Ruelle. He is already dead, and I hold AbbÉ de Mouzon and Baron de Saizan prisoners. Would you like to see La Ruelle's body?'

To this they replied 'No,' and asked permission to leave the house.

By this time the news of the burgomaster's death was known in the town, and a vast crowd had gathered in front of the house, shouting 'To arms!' and demanding admission. The Count ventured to open the door, and allow the burgomaster's cousin and his friends to escape. The noise increased, as the people knocked loudly at the door, and uttered threats of vengeance upon the Count. WarfusÉe, now trembling in every limb, pale and terror-stricken, ran hither and thither between the courtyard and the garden, and at last hid himself in a room on the upper story, just as an armed crowd of townsmen burst in, and forced their way to where the soldiers were guarding AbbÉ de Mouzon and the other prisoners. Baron de Saizan at once called on the Spaniards to give up their weapons, and promised them quarter. They allowed themselves to be disarmed; but the townsmen instantly attacked them. There was a short, but desperate, struggle, during which the ladies, cowering on the floor, protected themselves as best they could from the musket-balls which flew about, and the sword-cuts which the infuriated townsmen dealt in all directions. In a few minutes the Spaniards were slain to the last man; and then some of the burghers, moved by pity, led the daughters of WarfusÉe from the blood-stained house to the HÔtel de Ville, where they obtained shelter.

Their father at this time was lying on a bed upstairs, where he was soon discovered by La Ruelle's cousin, who had returned, and some of the burghers, who dragged him down to the door of the house and threw him out into the street. The mob rushed upon him, stabbed him, and beat him to death with bludgeons, tore off his clothes, pulled him by the feet to the market-place, hung him head downwards on the gallows, and finally tore the dead body to pieces. A fire was lighted, his remains were burned, and the ashes thrown into the Meuse.

Even this revenge did not quench the thirst for blood which consumed the people of LiÉge. The advocate Marchand, who had been one of WarfusÉe's guests, and another eminent citizen, ThÉodore FlÉron, fell under suspicion, and were slaughtered. It is said that one of those who slew FlÉron was so mad with rage that he flung himself on the dead man's corpse, tore it with his teeth like a wild beast, and sucked the blood. The church of the Carmelites, who were also suspected of some guilty knowledge of WarfusÉe's plot, was sacked. The Rector of the Jesuits was murdered, and the members of that society were driven from the town. The mob went through the streets shouting, 'Death to the Chiroux! Death to the priests!' A list was drawn up of suspected persons, who were condemned, without trial, on a charge of having conspired against the State; and many of the Chiroux faction were hung on the gallows.

Such is the horrible story of the 'Tragic Banquet of WarfusÉe,' as it is called in local history. The motive for the crime, as foolish as it was brutal, was obviously the wish of WarfusÉe to gain, at any cost, some credit with the Emperor, though there seems to be no proof that either the Emperor or Ferdinand had really authorized the murder of the burgomaster. Nor is there evidence to show that La Ruelle had plotted to hand over the Principality to France. The only explanation of WarfusÉe's extraordinary folly seems to be that he had entirely misunderstood the sentiments of the LiÉgeois, and had under-estimated the popularity of La Ruelle and the strength of the Grignoux faction. Otherwise, desperate villain though he was, he would scarcely have ventured to commit such a crime with no support save that of a few soldiers.

THE EPISCOPAL PALACE—INNER COURT,
LIÉGE

A semblance of peace followed; but soon the feud between the Chiroux and the Grignoux broke out again. Once more the Grignoux obtained the upper hand. The Episcopal Palace was taken by the mob. Two hundred citizens of the upper class were ordered into banishment; and when the Bishop was on his way to LiÉge, hoping to restore order by peaceful means, he was met by the news that the gates were closed against him. He therefore sent his nephew, Prince Henry Maximilian of Bavaria, with an army to reduce the town. In a skirmish near Jupille one of the burgomasters was killed. The Grignoux lost heart, and opened the gates. Then came a wholesale arrest of the popular leaders, four of whom were executed. The mode of electing magistrates was altered, the Bishop reserving to himself the right of nominating half of them. The loyalists who had been banished were recalled. To overawe the people, a citadel was built upon the high ridge above the town; and when Ferdinand died, in 1650, the Principality was more at rest than it had been for many years.