rdly a princely house in Germany which did not send cooks to learn
their business in so magnificent a kitchen. The reputation of his table
remained undiminished for years. We find at a later period, that Philip,
in the course of one of the nominal reconciliations which took place
several times between the monarch and William of Orange, wrote that, his
head cook being dead, he begged the Prince to "make him a present of his
chief cook, Master Herman, who was understood to be very skilful."

In this hospitable mansion, the feasting continued night and day. From
early morning till noon, the breakfast-tables were spread with wines and
luxurious viands in constant succession, to all comers and at every
moment.--The dinner and supper were daily banquets for a multitude of
guests. The highest nobles were not those alone who were entertained. Men
of lower degree were welcomed with a charming hospitality which made them
feel themselves at their ease. Contemporaries of all parties unite in
eulogizing the winning address and gentle manners of the Prince. "Never,"
says a most bitter Catholic historian, "did an arrogant or indiscreet
word fall from his lips. He, upon no occasion, manifested anger to his
servants, however much they might be in fault, but contented himself with
admonishing them graciously, without menace or insult. He had a gentle
and agreeable tongue, with which he could turn all the gentlemen at court
any way he liked. He was beloved and honored by the whole community." His
manner was graceful, familiar, caressing, and yet dignified. He had the
good breeding which comes from the heart, refined into an inexpressible
charm from his constant intercourse, almost from his cradle, with mankind
of all ranks.

It may be supposed that this train of living was attended with expense.
Moreover, he had various other establishments in town and country;
besides his almost royal residence in Brussels. He was ardently fond of
the chase, particularly of the knightly sport of falconry. In the country
he "consoled himself by taking every day a heron in the clouds." His
falconers alone cost him annually fifteen hundred florins, after he had
reduced their expenses to the lowest possible point. He was much in debt,
even at this early period and with his princely fortune. "We come of a
race," he wrote carelessly to his brother Louis, "who are somewhat bad
managers in our young days, but when we grow older, we do better, like
our late fathe