This ridiculous ceremony completed the rites by which the confederacy received its name; but the banquet was by no means terminated.  The uproar became furious.  The younger and more reckless nobles abandoned themselves to revelry, which would have shamed heathen Saturnalia.  They renewed to each other, every moment, their vociferous oaths of fidelity to the common cause, drained huge beakers to the beggars’ health, turned their caps and doublets inside out, danced upon chairs and tables.  Several addressed each other as Lord Abbot, or Reverend Prior, of this or that religious institution, thus indicating the means by which some of them hoped to mend their broken fortunes.

While the tumult was at its height, the Prince of Orange with Counts Horn and Egmont entered the apartment.  They had been dining quietly with Mansfeld, who was confined to his house with an inflamed eye, and they were on their way to the council chamber, where the sessions were now prolonged nightly to a late hour.  Knowing that Hoogstraaten, somewhat against his will, had been induced to be present at the banquet, they had come round by the way of Culemburg House, to induce him to retire.  They were also disposed, if possible, to abridge the festivities which their influence would have been powerless to prevent.

These great nobles, as soon as they made their appearance, were surrounded by a crew of “beggars,” maddened and dripping with their, recent baptism of wine, who compelled them to drink a cup amid shouts of “Vivent le roi et les gueulx!” The meaning of this cry they of course could not understand, for even those who had heard Berlaymont’s contemptuous remarks, might not remember the exact term which he had used, and certainly could not be aware of the importance to which it had just been elevated.  As for Horn, he disliked and had long before quarrelled with Brederode, had prevented many persons from signing the Compromise, and, although a guest at that time of Orange, was in the habit of retiring to bed before supper, to avoid the company of many who frequented the house.  Yet his presence for a few moments, with the best intentions, at the conclusion of this famous banquet, was made one of the most deadly charges which were afterwards drawn up against him by the Crown.  The three seigniors refused to be seated, and remained but for a moment, “the length of a Miserere,” taking with them Hoogstraaten as they retired.  They also prevailed upon the whole party to break up at the same time, so that their presence had served at least to put a conclusion to the disgraceful riot.  When they arrived at the council chamber they received the thanks of the Duchess for what they had done.

Such was the first movement made by the members of the Compromise.  Was it strange that Orange should feel little affinity with such companions?  Had he not reason to hesitate, if the sacred cause of civil and religious liberty could only be maintained by these defenders and with such assistance?