rwards complained at Brussels. In truth, Egmont, intoxicated by
the incense offered to him at the Spanish court, was a different man from
Egmont in the Netherlands, subject to the calm but piercing glance and
the irresistible control of Orange. Philip gave him no reason to suppose
that he intended any change in the religious system of the provinces, at
least in any sense contemplated by the liberal party. On the contrary, a
council of doctors and ecclesiastics was summoned, at whose deliberations
the Count was invited to assist; on which occasion the King excited
general admiration by the fervor of his piety and the vehemence of his
ejaculations. Falling upon his knees before a crucifix, in the midst of
the assembly, he prayed that God would keep him perpetually in the same
mind, and protested that he would never call himself master of those who
denied the Lord God. Such an exhibition could leave but little doubt in
the minds of those who witnessed it as to the royal sentiments, nor did
Egmont make any effort to obtain any relaxation of those religious
edicts, which he had himself declared worthy of approbation, and fit to
be maintained. As to the question of enlarging the state-council, Philip
dismissed the subject with a few vague observations, which Egmont, not
very zealous on the subject at the moment, perhaps misunderstood. The
punishment of heretics by some new method, so as to secure the pains but
to take away the glories of martyrdom, was also slightly discussed, and
here again Egmont was so unfortunate as to misconceive the royal meaning,
and to interpret an additional refinement of cruelty into an expression
of clemency. On the whole, however, there was not much negotiation
between the monarch and the ambassador. When the Count spoke of business,
the King would speak to him of his daughters, and of his desire to see
them provided with brilliant marriages. As Egmont had eight girls,
besides two sons, it was natural that he should be pleased to find Philip
taking so much interest in looking out husbands for them. The King spoke
to him, as hardly could be avoided, of the famous fool's-cap livery. The
Count laughed the matter off as a jest, protesting that it was a mere
foolish freak, originating at the wine-table, and asseverating, with
warmth, that nothing disrespectful or disloyal to his Majesty had been
contemplated upon that or upon any other occasion. Had a single gentleman
uttered an undutiful word against the