also admitted, of mitigating the punishment of those who, without being
heretics or sectaries, might bring themselves within the provisions of
the edicts, "through curiosity, nonchalance, or otherwise." Such
offenders, it was hinted, might be "whipped with rods, fined, banished,
or subjected to similar penalties of a lighter nature." It will be
perceived by this slight sketch of the advice thus offered to the Duchess
that these theologians were disposed very carefully to strain the mercy,
which they imagined possible in some cases, but which was to drop only
upon the heads of the just. Heretics were still to be dealt with, so far
as the bishops and presidents could affect their doom, with unmitigated
rigor.

When the assembly was over, the Duchess, thus put in possession of the
recorded wisdom of these special councillors, asked her constitutional
advisers what she was to do with it. Orange, Egmont, Horn, Mansfeld
replied, however, that it was not their affair, and that their opinion
had not been demanded by his Majesty in the premises. The Duchess
accordingly transmitted to Philip the conclusions of the assembly,
together with the reasons of the seigniors for refusing to take part in
its deliberations. The sentiments of Orange could hardly be doubtful,
however, nor his silence fail to give offense to the higher powers.
He contented himself for the time with keeping his eyes and ears open to
the course of events, but he watched well. He had "little leisure for
amusing himself," as Brederode suggested. That free-spoken individual
looked upon the proceedings of the theological assembly with profound
disgust. "Your letter," he wrote to Count Louis, "is full of those
blackguards of bishops and presidents. I would the race were extinct,
like that of green dogs. They will always combat with the arms which
they have ever used, remaining to the end avaricious, brutal, obstinate,
ambitious, et cetera. I leave you to supply the rest."