necessity, and misfortune binds more firmly than thoughtless joy. He
loved his brother as dearly as he did his cause, and for the latter he
died.

Henry of Brederode, Baron of Viane and Burgrave of Utrecht, was
descended from the old Dutch counts who formerly ruled that province as
sovereign princes. So ancient a title endeared him to the people, among
whom the memory of their former lords still survived, and was the more
treasured the less they felt they had gained by the change. This
hereditary splendor increased the self-conceit of a man upon whose
tongue the glory of his ancestors continually hung, and who dwelt the
more on former greatness, even amidst its ruins, the more unpromising
the aspect of his own condition became. Excluded from the honors and
employments to which, in his opinion, his own merits and his noble
ancestry fully entitled him (a squadron of light cavalry being all which
was entrusted to him), he hated the government, and did not scruple
boldly to canvass and to rail at its measures. By these means he won
the hearts of the people. He also favored in secret the evangelical
belief; less, however, as a conviction of his better reason than as an
opposition to the government. With more loquacity than eloquence, and
more audacity than courage, he was brave rather from not believing in
danger than from being superior to it. Louis of Nassau burned for the
cause which he defended, Brederode for the glory of being its defender;
the former was satisfied in acting for his party, the latter
discontented if he did not stand at its head. No one was more fit to
lead off the dance in a rebellion, but it could hardly have a worse
ballet-master. Contemptible as his threatened designs really were, the
illusion of the multitude might have imparted to them weight and terror
if it had occurred to them to set up a pretender in his person. His
claim to the possessions of his ancestors was an empty name; but even a