For the government of Antwerp had been degenerating from a well-organised municipal republicanism into anarchy.  The clashing of the various bodies exercising power had become incessant and intolerable.  The burgomaster was charged with the chief executive authority, both for peace and war.  Nevertheless he had but a single vote in the board of magistrates, where a majority decided.  Moreover, he could not always attend the sessions, because he was also member of the council of Brabant.  Important measures might therefore be decided by the magistracy, not only against his judgment, but without his knowledge.  Then there was a variety of boards or colleges, all arrogating concurrent—­which in truth was conflicting-authority.  There was the board of militia-colonels, which claimed great powers.  Here, too, the burgomaster was nominally the chief, but he might be voted down by a majority, and of course was often absent.  Then there were sixteen captains who came into the colonels’ sessions whenever they liked, and had their word to say upon all subjects broached.  If they were refused a hearing, they were backed by eighty other captains, who were ready at any moment to carry every disputed point before the “broadcouncil.”

There were a college of ward-masters, a college of select men, a college of deacons, a college of ammunition, of fortification, of ship-building, all claiming equal authority, and all wrangling among themselves; and there was a college of “peace-makers,” who wrangled more than all the rest together.

Once a week there was a session of the board or general council.  Dire was the hissing and confusion, as the hydra heads of the multitudinous government were laid together.  Heads of colleges, presidents of chambers, militia-chieftains; magistrates, ward-masters, deans of fishmongers, of tailors, gardeners, butchers, all met together pell-mell; and there was no predominant authority.  This was not a convenient working machinery for a city threatened with a siege by the first captain of the age.  Moreover there was a deficiency of regular troops:  The burgher-militia were well trained and courageous, but not distinguished for their docility.  There was also a regiment of English under Colonel Morgan, a soldier of great experience, and much respected; but, as Stephen Le Sieur said, “this force, unless seconded with more, was but a breakfast for the enemy.”  Unfortunately, too, the insubordination, which was so ripe in the city, seemed to affect these auxiliaries.  A mutiny broke out among the English troops.  Many deserted to Parma, some escaped to England, and it was not until Morgan had beheaded Captain Lee and Captain Powell, that discipline could be restored.

And into this scene of wild and deafening confusion came Philip de Marnix, Lord of Sainte Aldegonde.