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.