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.