for ordering "their reverences; the confederates," to, quit Brussels
without delay. The conversation, carried on in so violent a key, might
not unnaturally have been heard by such of the gentlemen as had not yet
left the grand hall adjoining the council chamber. The meeting of the
council was then adjourned for an hour or two, to meet again in the
afternoon, for the purpose of deciding deliberately upon the answer
to be given to the Request. Meanwhile, many of the confederates were
swaggering about the streets, talking very bravely of the scene which had
just occurred, and it is probable, boasting not a little of the effect
which their demonstration would produce. As they passed by the house of
Berlaymont, that nobleman, standing at his window in company with Count
Aremberg, is said to have repeated his jest. "There go our fine beggars
again," said he. "Look, I pray you, with what bravado they are passing
before us!"
On the 6th of April, Brederode, attended by a large number of his
companions, again made his appearance at the palace. He then received
the petition, which was returned to him with an apostille or commentary
to this effect:--Her Highness would despatch an envoy for the purpose of
inducing his Majesty to grant the Request. Every thing worthy of the
King's unaffected (naive) and customary benignity might be expected as to
the result. The Duchess had already, with the assistance of the state
and privy councillors, Fleece knights and governors, commenced a project
for moderating the edicts, to be laid before the King. As her authority
did not allow her to suspend the inquisition and placards, she was
confident that the petitioners would be satisfied with the special
application about to be made to the King. Meantime, she would give
orders to all inquisitors, that they should proceed "modestly and
discreetly" in their office, so that no one would have cause to complain.
Her Highness hoped likewise that the gentlemen on their part would
conduct themselves in a loyal and satisfactory manner; thus proving that
they had no intention to make innovations in the ancient religion of the
country.
Upon the next day but one, Monday, 8th of April, Brederode, attended by
a number of the confederates, again made his appearance at the palace,
for the purpose of delivering an answer to the Apostille. In this second
paper the confederates rendered thanks for the prompt reply which the
Duchess had given to their Request, expressed regrets that she did not
feel at liberty to suspend the inquisition, and declared their confidence
that she would at once give such orders to the inquisitors and
magistrates that prosecutions for religious matters should cease,
until the King's further pleasure should be declared. They professed
themselves desirous of maintaining whatever regulations should be
thereafter established by his Majesty, with the advice and consent of the
states-general, for the security of the ancient religion, and promised to
conduct themselves generally in such wise that her Highness would have
every reason to be satisfied with them. They, moreover, requested that
the Duchess would cause the Petition to be printed in authentic form by
the government printer.
The admission that the confederates would maintain the ancient religion
had been obtained, as Margaret informed her brother, through the
dexterous management of Hoogstraaten, without suspicion on the part of
the petitioners that the proposition for such a declaration came from
her.
The Duchess replied by word of mouth to the second address thus made
to her by the confederates, that she could not go beyond the Apostille
which she had put on record. She had already caused letters for the
inquisitors and magistrates to be drawn up. The minutes for those
instructions should be laid before the confederates by Count Hoogstraaten
and Secretary Berty. As for the printing of their petition, she was
willing to grant their demand, and would give orders to that effect.
The gentlemen having received this answer, retired into the great hall.
After a few minutes' consultation, however, they returned to the council
chamber, where the Seigneur d'Esquerdes, one of their number, addressed
a few parting words, in the name of his associates, to the Regent;
concluding with a request that she would declare, the confederates to
have done no act, and made no demonstration, inconsistent with their duty
and with a perfect respect for his Majesty.
To this demand the Duchess answered somewhat drily that she could not be
judge in such a cause. Time and their future deeds, she observed, could
only bear witness as to their purposes. As for declarations from her,
they must be satisfied with the Apostille which they had already
received.
With this response, somewhat more tart than agreeable, the nobles were
obliged to content themselves, and they accordingly took their leave.
It must be confessed that they had been disposed to slide rather
cavalierly over a good deal of ground towards the great object which they
had in view. Certainly the petitio principii was a main feature of their
logic. They had, in their second address, expressed perfect confidence
as to two very considerable concessions. The Duchess was practically to
suspend the inquisition, although she had declared herself without
authority for that purpose, The King, who claimed, de jure and de facto,
the whole legislative power, was thenceforth to make laws on religious
matters by and with the consent of the states-general. Certainly, these
ends were very laudable, and if a civil and religious revolution could
have been effected by a few gentlemen going to court in fine clothes to
present a petition, and by sitting down to a tremendous banquet
afterwards, Brederode and his associates were the men to accomplish the
task. Unfortunately, a sea of blood and long years of conflict lay
between the nation and the promised land, which for a moment seemed so
nearly within reach.
Meantime the next important step in Brederode's eyes was a dinner. He
accordingly invited the confederates to a magnificent repast which he had
ordered to be prepared in the Culemburg mansion. Three hundred guests
sat down, upon the 8th of April, to this luxurious banquet, which was
destined to become historical.
The board glittered with silver and gold. The wine circulated with more
than its usual rapidity among the band of noble Bacchanals, who were
never weary of drinking the healths of Brederode, of Orange, and of
Egmont. It was thought that the occasion imperiously demanded an
extraordinary carouse, and the political events of the past three days
lent an additional excitement to the wine. There was an earnest
discussion as to an appropriate name to be given to their confederacy.
Should they call themselves the "Society of Concord," the restorers of
lost liberty, or by what other attractive title should the league be
baptized? Brederode was, however, already prepared to settle the
question. He knew the value of a popular and original name; he possessed
the instinct by which adroit partisans in every age have been accustomed
to convert the reproachful epithets of their opponents into watchwords of
honor, and he had already made his preparations for a startling
theatrical effect. Suddenly, amid the din of voices, he arose, with all
his rhetorical powers at command: He recounted to the company the
observations which the Seigneur de Berlaymont was reported to have made
to the Duchess, upon the presentation of the Request, and the name which
he had thought fit to apply to them collectively. Most of the gentlemen
then heard the memorable sarcasm for the first time. Great was the
indignation of all that the state councillor should have dared to
stigmatize as beggars a band of gentlemen with the best blood of the
land in their veins. Brederode, on the contrary, smoothing their anger,
assured them with good humor that nothing could be more fortunate. "They
call us beggars!" said he; "let us accept the name. We will contend with
the inquisition, but remain loyal to the King, even till compelled to
wear the beggar's sack."
He then beckoned to one of his pages, who brought him a leathern wallet,
such as was worn at that day by professional mendicants, together with a
large wooden bowl, which also formed part of their regular appurtenances.
Brederode immediately hung the wallet around his neck, filled the bowl
with wine, lifted it with both hands, and drained it at a draught.
"Long live the beggars!" he cried, as he wiped his beard and set the
bowl down. "Vivent les gueulx." Then for the first time, from the lips
of those reckless nobles rose the famous, cry, which was so often to ring
over land and sea, amid blazing cities, on blood-stained decks, through
the smoke and carnage of many a stricken field. The humor of Brederode
was hailed with deafening shouts of applause. The Count then threw the
wallet around the neck of his nearest neighbor, and handed him the wooden
bawl. Each guest, in turn, donned the mendicant's knapsack. Pushing
aside his golden goblet, each filled the beggars' bowl to the brim, and
drained it to the beggars' health. Roars of laughter, and shouts of
"Vivent les gueulx" shook the walls of the stately mansion, as they were
doomed never to shake again. The shibboleth was invented. The
conjuration which they had been anxiously seeking was found. Their
enemies had provided them with a spell, which was to prove, in after
days, potent enough to start a spirit from palace or hovel, forest or
wave, as the deeds of the "wild beggars," the "wood beggars," and the
"beggars of the sea" taught Philip at last to understand the nation which
he had driven to madness.
When the wallet and bowl had made the circuit of the table, they were
suspended to a pillar in the hall. Each of the company in succession
then threw some salt into his goblet, and, placing himself under these
symbols of the brotherhood, repeated a jingling distich, produced
impromptu for the occasion.
By this salt, by this bread, by this wallet we swear,
These beggars ne'er will change, though all the world should stare.
This ridiculous ceremony completed the rites by which the confederacy
received its name; but the banquet was by no means terminated. The
uproar became furious. The younger and more reckless nobles abandoned
themselves to revelry, which would have shamed heathen Saturnalia. They
renewed to each other, every moment, their vociferous oaths of fidelity
to the common cause, drained huge beakers to the beggars' health, turned
their caps and doublets inside out, danced upon chairs and tables.
Several addressed each other as Lord Abbot, or Reverend Prior, of this
or that religious institution, thus indicating the means by which some
of them hoped to mend their broken fortunes.
While the tumult was at its height, the Prince of Orange with Counts Horn
and Egmont entered the apartment. They had been dining quietly with
Mansfeld, who was confined to his house with an inflamed eye, and they
were on their way to the council chamber, where the sessions were now
prolonged nightly to a late hour. Knowing that Hoogstraaten, somewhat
against his will, had been induced to be present at the banquet, they had
come round by the way of Culemburg House, to induce him to retire. They
were also disposed, if possible, to abridge the festivities which their
influence would have been powerless to prevent.
These great nobles, as soon as they made their appearance, were
surrounded by a crew of "beggars," maddened and dripping with their,
recent baptism of wine, who compelled them to drink a cup amid shouts of
"Vivent le roi et les gueulx!" The meaning of this cry they of course
could not understand, for even those who had heard Berlaymont's
contemptuous remarks, might not remember the exact term which he had
used, and certainly could not be aware of the importance to which it had
just been elevated. As for Horn, he disliked and had long before
quarrelled with Brederode, had prevented many persons from signing the
Compromise, and, although a guest at that time of Orange, was in the
habit of retiring to bed before supper, to avoid the company of many who
frequented the house. Yet his presence for a few moments, with the best
intentions, at the conclusion of this famous banquet, was made one of the
most deadly charges which were afterwards drawn up against him by the
Crown. The three seigniors refused to be seated, and remained but for a
moment, "the length of a Miserere," taking with them Hoogstraaten as they
retired. They also prevailed upon the whole party to break up at the
same time, so that their presence had served at least to put a conclusion
to the disgraceful riot. When they arrived at the council chamber they
received the thanks of the Duchess for what they had done.
Such was the first movement made by the members of the Compromise. Was
it strange that Orange should feel little affinity with such companions?
Had he not reason to hesitate, if the sacred cause of civil and religious
liberty could only be maintained by these defenders and with such
assistance?
The "beggars" did not content themselves with the name alone of the time-
honored fraternity of Mendicants in which they had enrolled themselves.
Immediately after the Culemburg banquet, a costume for the confederacy
was decided upon.
These young gentlemen discarding gold lace and velvet, thought it
expedient to array themselves in doublets and hose of ashen grey, with
short cloaks of the same color, all of the coarsest materials. They
appeared in this guise in the streets, with common felt hats on their
heads, and beggars' pouches and bowls at their sides. They caused also
medals of lead and copper to be struck, bearing upon one side the head
of Philip; upon the reverse, two hands clasped within a wallet, with the
motto, "Faithful to the King, even to wearing the beggar's sack." These
badges they wore around their necks, or as buttons to their hats. As a
further distinction they shaved their beards close, excepting the
moustachios, which were left long and pendent in the Turkish fashion,
--that custom, as it seemed, being an additional characteristic of
Mendicants.
Very soon after these events the nobles of the league dispersed from the
capital to their various homes. Brederode rode out of Brussels at the
head of a band of cavaliers, who saluted the concourse of applauding
spectators with a discharge of their pistols. Forty-three gentlemen
accompanied him to Antwerp, where he halted for a night. The Duchess had
already sent notice to the magistrates of that city of his intended
visit, and warned them to have an eye upon his proceedings. "The great
beggar," as Hoogstraaten called him, conducted himself, however, with as
much propriety as could be expected. Four or five thousand of the
inhabitants thronged about the hotel where he had taken up his quarters.
He appeared at a window with his wooden bowl, filled with wine, in his
hands, and his wallet at his side. He assured the multitude that he was
ready to die to defend the good people of Antwerp and of all the
Netherlands against the edicts and the inquisition. Meantime he drank
their healths, and begged all who accepted the pledge to hold up their
hands. The populace, highly amused, held up and clapped their hands as
honest Brederode drained his bowl, and were soon afterwards persuaded to
retire in great good humor.
These proceedings were all chronicled and transmitted to Madrid. It was
also both publicly reported and secretly registered, that Brederode had
eaten capons and other meat at Antwerp, upon Good Friday, which happened
to be the, day of his visit to that city. He denied the charge, however;
with ludicrous vehemence. "They who have told Madame that we ate meat in
Antwerp," he wrote to Count Louis, "have lied wickedly and miserably,
twenty-four feet down in their throats." He added that his nephew,
Charles Mansfeld, who, notwithstanding the indignant prohibition of his
father, had assisted of the presentation of the Request, and was then in
his uncle's company at Antwerp, had ordered a capon, which Brederode had
countermanded. "They told me afterwards," said he, "that my nephew had
broiled a sausage in his chamber. I suppose that he thought himself in
Spain, where they allow themselves such dainties."
Let it not be thought that these trifles are beneath the dignity of
history. Matters like these filled the whole soul of Philip, swelled
the bills of indictment for thousands of higher and better men than
Brederode, and furnished occupation as well for secret correspondents and
spies as for the most dignified functionaries of Government. Capons or
sausages on Good Friday, the Psalms of Clement Marot, the Sermon on the
Mount in the vernacular, led to the rack, the gibbet, and the stake, but
ushered in a war against the inquisition which was to last for eighty
years. Brederode was not to be the hero of that party which he disgraced
by his buffoonery. Had he lived, he might, perhaps, like many of his
confederates, have redeemed, by his bravery in the field, a character
which his orgies had rendered despicable. He now left Antwerp for the
north of Holland, where, as he soon afterwards reported to Count Louis,
"the beggars were as numerous as the sands on the seashore."
His "nephew Charles," two months afterwards, obeyed his father's
injunction, and withdrew formally from the confederacy.
Meantime the rumor had gone abroad that the Request of the nobles had
already produced good fruit, that the edicts were to be mitigated, the
inquisition abolished, liberty of conscience eventually to prevail.
"Upon these reports," says a contemporary, "all the vermin of exiles and
fugitives for religion, as well as those who had kept in concealment,
began to lift up their heads and thrust forth their horns." It was known
that Margaret of Parma had ordered the inquisitors and magistrates to
conduct themselves "modestly and discreetly." It was known that the
privy council was hard at work upon the project for "moderating" the
edicts. Modestly and discreetly, Margaret of Parma, almost immediately
after giving these orders, and while the "moderation" was still in the
hands of the lawyers, informed her brother that she had given personal
attention to the case of a person who had snatched the holy wafer from
the priest's hand at Oudenarde. This "quidam," as she called him--for
his name was beneath the cognizance of an Emperor's bastard daughter--had
by her orders received rigorous and exemplary justice. And what was the
"rigorous and exemplary justice" thus inflicted upon the "quidam?" The
procurator of the neighboring city of Tournay has enabled us to answer.
The young man, who was a tapestry weaver, Hans Tiskaen by name, had,
upon the 30th May, thrown the holy wafer upon the ground. For this
crime, which was the same as that committed on Christmas-day of the
previous year by Bertrand le Blas, at Tournay, he now met with a similar
although not quite so severe a punishment. Having gone quietly home
after doing the deed, he was pursued, arrested, and upon the Saturday
ensuing taken to the market-place of Oudenarde. Here the right hand with
which he had committed the offence was cut off, and he was then fastened
to the stake and burned to death over a slow fire. He was fortunately
not more than a quarter of an hour in torment, but he persisted in his
opinions, and called on God for support to his last breath.
This homely tragedy was enacted at Oudenarde, the birth place of Duchess
Margaret. She was the daughter of the puissant Charles the Fifth, but
her mother was only the daughter of a citizen of Oudenarde; of a "quidam"
like the nameless weaver who had thus been burned by her express order.
It was not to be supposed, however, that the circumstance could operate
in so great a malefactor's favor. Moreover, at the same moment, she sent
orders that a like punishment should be inflicted upon another person
then in a Flemish prison, for the crime of anabaptism.
The privy council, assisted by thirteen knights of the Fleece, had been
hard at work, and the result of their wisdom was at last revealed in a
"moderation" consisting of fifty-three articles.
What now was the substance of those fifty-three articles, so painfully
elaborated by Viglius, so handsomely drawn up into shape by Councillor
d'Assonleville? Simply to substitute the halter for the fagot. After
elimination of all verbiage, this fact was the only residuum. It was
most distinctly laid down that all forms of religion except the Roman
Catholic were forbidden; that no public or secret conventicles were to
be allowed; that all heretical writings were to be suppressed; that all
curious inquiries into the Scriptures were to be prohibited. Persons who
infringed these regulations were divided into two classes--the misleaders
and the misled. There was an affectation of granting mercy to persons in
the second category, while death was denounced upon those composing the
first. It was merely an affectation; for the rambling statute was so
open in all its clauses, that the Juggernaut car of persecution could be
driven through the whole of them, whenever such a course should seem
expedient. Every man or woman in the Netherlands might be placed in
the list of the misleaders, at the discretion of the officials.
The pretended mercy to the misguided was a mere delusion.
The superintendents, preachers, teachers, ministers, sermon-makers,
deacons, and other officers, were to be executed with the halter, with
confiscation of their whole property. So much was very plain. Other
heretics, however, who would abjure their heresy before the bishop, might
be pardoned for the first offence, but if obstinate, were to be banished.
This seemed an indication of mercy, at least to the repentant criminals.
But who were these "other" heretics? All persons who discussed religious
matters were to be put to death. All persons, not having studied
theology at a "renowned university," who searched and expounded the
Scriptures, were to be put to death. All persons in whose houses any act
of the perverse religion should be committed, were to be put to death.
All persons who harbored or protected ministers and teachers of any sect,
were to be put to death. All the criminals thus carefully enumerated
were to be executed, whether repentant or not. If, however, they abjured
their errors, they were to be beheaded instead of being strangled. Thus
it was obvious that almost any heretic might be brought to the halter at
a moment's notice.
Strictly speaking, the idea of death by the halter or the axe was less
shocking to the imagination than that of being burned or buried alive.
In this respect, therefore, the edicts were softened by the proposed
"Moderation." It would, however, always be difficult to persuade any
considerable slumber of intelligent persons, that the infliction of a
violent death, by whatever process, on account of religious opinions, was
an act of clemency. The Netherlanders were, however, to be persuaded
into this belief. The draft of the new edict was ostentatiously called
the "Moderatie," or the "Moderation." It was very natural, therefore,
that the common people, by a quibble, which is the same in Flemish as in
English, should call the proposed "Moderation" the "Murderation." The
rough mother-wit of the people had already characterized and annihilated
the project, while dull formalists were carrying it through the
preliminary stages.