“Is it possible that your Highness can entertain fears of these beggars (gueux)? See! there is not one of them who has not outgrown his estate!”
The same remark was repeated in the hearing of some of the confederates. On their meeting afterwards at a banquet prepared in the Culembourg mansion, after the wine had freely circulated, Brederode rose. He well knew the feelings which the remark I have mentioned had excited in the breasts of the confederates.
“They call us beggars!” he shouted, in a scornful tone. “The joke is a good one. Let us accept the name; we will contend with the abominable Inquisition till compelled to wear the beggar’s sack in reality!”
He then called one of his pages, who brought him a leathern wallet, such as are worn by mendicants, and a large wooden bowl.
Hanging the wallet round his neck, he filled the bowl with wine, and lifting it with both hands, he drained it at a draught.
“Long live the beggars!” he cried, as he wiped his beard and put the bowl down.
“Long live the beggars!” resounded through the hall. The bowl went round, and each noble, pushing his golden goblet aside, and filling the bowl to the brim, drank the same toast: “Vivent les Gueux!”
The wine continued to flow fast. While the conviviality was at its height, the Prince of Orange, with Counts Horn and Egmont, made their appearance. Immediately they were surrounded by the now half-intoxicated beggars, who compelled each of them to drink from the bowl, amid shouts of “Vivent le Roi et les Gueux!”