he name of these; bodies, accepted the
abdication in an elegant and complimentary harangue. Queen Mary of
Hungary, the "Christian widow" of Erasmus, and Regent of the Netherlands
during the past twenty-five years, then rose to resign her office, making
a brief address expressive of her affection for the people, her regrets
at leaving them, and her hopes that all errors which she might have
committed during her long administration would be forgiven her. Again the
redundant Maas responded, asserting in terms of fresh compliment and
elegance the uniform satisfaction of the provinces with her conduct
during her whole career.
The orations and replies having now been brought to a close, the ceremony
was terminated. The Emperor, leaning on the shoulders of the Prince of
Orange and of the Count de Buren, slowly left the hall, followed by
Philip, the Queen of Hungary, and the whole court; all in the same order
in which they had entered, and by the same passage into the chapel.
It is obvious that the drama had been completely successful. It had been
a scene where heroic self-sacrifice, touching confidence, ingenuous love
of duty, patriotism, and paternal affection upon one side; filial
reverence, with a solemn regard for public duty and the highest interests
of the people on the other, were supposed to be the predominant
sentiments. The happiness of the Netherlands was apparently the only
object contemplated in the great transaction. All had played well their
parts in the past, all hoped the best in the times which were to follow.
The abdicating Emperor was looked upon as a hero and a prophet. The stage
was drowned in tears. There is not the least doubt as to the genuine and
universal emotion which was excited throughout the assembly. "Caesar's
oration," says Secretary Godelaevus, who was present at the ceremony,
"deeply moved the nobility and gentry, many of whom burst into tears;
even the illustrious Knights of the Fleece were melted." The historian,
Pontus Heuterus, who, then twenty years of age, was likewise among the
audience, attests that "most of the assembly were dissolved in tears;
uttering the while such sonorous sobs that they compelled his Caesarean
Majesty and the Queen to cry with them. My own face," he adds, "was
certainly quite wet." The English envoy, Sir John Mason, describing in a
despatch to his government the scene which he had just witnessed, paints
the same picture. "The Emperor," he said, "begged the for
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