this first deputation to the stadtholderess,
De Brederode gave a grand repast to his associates in the Hotel
de Culembourg. Three hundred guests were present. Inflamed by
joy and hope, their spirits rose high under the influence of
wine, and temperance gave way to temerity. In the midst of their
carousing, some of the members remarked that when the stadtholderess
received the written petition, Count Berlaimont observed to her
that "she had nothing to fear from such a band of beggars"
(_tas_de_GUEUX_). The fact was that many of the confederates
were, from individual extravagance and mismanagement, reduced to
such a state of poverty as to justify in some sort the sarcasm.
The chiefs of the company being at that very moment debating on
the name which they should choose for this patriotic league,
the title of Gueux was instantly proposed, and adopted with
acclamation. The reproach it was originally intended to convey
became neutralized, as its general application to men of all
ranks and fortunes concealed its effect as a stigma on many to
whom it might be seriously applied. Neither were examples wanting
of the most absurd and apparently dishonoring nicknames being
elsewhere adopted by powerful political parties. "Long live the
Gueux!" was the toast given and tumultuously drunk by this
mad-brained company; and Brederode, setting no bounds to the
boisterous excitement which followed, procured immediately, and
slung across his shoulders, a wallet such as was worn by pilgrims
and beggars; drank to the health of all present, in a wooden cup
or porringer; and loudly swore that he was ready to sacrifice
his fortune and life for the common cause. Each man passed round
the bowl, which he first put to his lips, repeated the oath,
and thus pledged himself to the compact. The wallet next went
the rounds of the whole assembly, and was finally hung upon a
nail driven into the wall for the purpose; and gazed on with
such enthusiasm as the emblems of political or religious faith,
however worthless or absurd, never fail to inspire in the minds
of enthusiasts.

The tumult caused by this ceremony, so ridiculous in itself, but
so sublime in its results, attracted to the spot the Prince of
Orange and Counts Egmont and Horn, whose presence is universally
attributed by the historians to accident, but which was probably
that kind of chance that leads medical practitioners in our days
to the field where a duel is fought. They entered; and Brede