On the fourth of January, 1568, we find eighty-four persons sentenced to

death at Valenciennes, on the charge of having taken part in the late

movements,--religious or political.[1053] On the twentieth of February,

ninety-five persons were arraigned before the Council of Blood, and

thirty-seven capitally convicted.[1054] On the twentieth of March

thirty-five more were condemned.[1055] The governor's emissaries were

out in every direction. "I heard that preaching was going on at

Antwerp," he writes to Philip; "and I sent my own provost there, for I

cannot trust the authorities. He arrested a good number of heretics.

They will never attend another such meeting. The magistrates complain

that the interference of the provost was a violation of their

privileges. The magistrates may as well take it patiently."[1056] The

pleasant manner in which the duke talks over the fate of his victims

with his master may remind one of the similar dialogues between Petit

André and Louis the Eleventh, in "Quentin Durward."

The proceedings in Ghent may show the course pursued in the other

cities. Commissioners were sent to that capital, to ferret out the

suspected. No than a hundred and forty-seven were summoned before the

council at Brussels. Their names were cried about the streets, and

posted up in placards on the public buildings. Among them were many

noble and wealthy individuals. The officers were particularly instructed

to ascertain the wealth of the parties. Most of the accused contrived to

make their escape. They preferred flight to the chance of an acquittal

by the bloody tribunal,--though flight involved certain banishment and

confiscation of property. Eighteen only answered the summons by

repairing to Brussels. They were all arrested on the same day, at their

lodgings, and, without exception, were sentenced to death! Five or six

of the principal were beheaded. The rest perished on the gallows.[1057]

[Sidenote: TRIALS AND EXECUTIONS.]

Impatient of what seemed to him a too tardy method of following up his

game, the duke determined on a bolder movement, and laid his plans for

driving a goodly number of victims into the toils at once. He fixed on

Ash Wednesday for the time,--the beginning of Lent, when men, after the

Carnival was past, would be gathered soberly in their own

dwellings.[1058] The officers of justice entered their premises at dead

of night; and no less than five hundred citizens were dragged from their

beds and hurried off to prison.[1059] They all received sentence of

death![1060] "I have reiterated the sentence again and again," he writes

to Philip, "for they torment me with inquiries whether in this or that

case it might not be commuted for banishment. They weary me of my life

with their importunities."[1061] He was not too weary, however, to go on

with the bloody work; for in the same letter we find him reckoning that

three hundred heads more must fall before it will be time to talk of a

general pardon.[1062]

It was common, says an old chronicler, to see thirty or forty persons

arrested at once. The wealthier burghers might be seen, with their arms

pinioned behind them, dragged at the horse's tail to the place of

execution.[1063] The poorer sort were not even summoned to take their

trial in Brussels. Their cases were despatched at once, and they were

hung up, without further delay, in the city or in the suburbs.[1064]

Brandt, in his History of the Reformation, has collected many

particulars respecting the persecution, especially in his own province

of Holland, during that "reign of terror." Men of lower consideration,

when dragged to prison, were often cruelly tortured on the rack, to

extort confessions, implicating themselves or their friends. The modes

of death adjudged by the bloody tribunal were various. Some were

beheaded with the sword,--a distinction reserved, as it would seem, for

persons of condition. Some were sentenced to the gibbet, and others to

the stake.[1065] This last punishment, the most dreadful of all, was

confined to the greater offenders against religion. But it seems to have

been left much to the caprice of the judges, sometimes even of the

brutal soldiery who superintended the executions. At least we find the

Spanish soldiers, on one occasion, in their righteous indignation,

throwing into the flames an unhappy Protestant preacher whom the court

had sentenced to the gallows.[1066]

The soldiers of Alva were many of them veterans who had borne arms

against the Protestants under Charles the Fifth,--comrades of the men

who at that very time were hunting down the natives of the New World,

and slaughtering them by thousands in the name of religion. With them

the sum and substance of religion were comprised in a blind faith in the

Romish Church, and in uncompromising hostility to the heretic. The life

of the heretic was the most acceptable sacrifice that could be offered

to Jehovah. With hearts thus seared by fanaticism, and made callous by

long familiarity with human suffering, they were the very ministers to

do the bidding of such a master as the duke of Alva.

The cruelty of the persecutors was met by an indomitable courage on the

part of their victims. Most of the offences were, in some way or other,

connected with religion. The accused were preachers, or had aided and

comforted the preachers, or had attended their services, or joined the

consistories, or afforded evidence, in some form, that they had espoused

the damnable doctrines of heresy. It is precisely in such a case, where

men are called to suffer for conscience' sake, that they are prepared to

endure all,--to die in defence of their opinions. The storm of

persecution fell on persons of every condition; men and women, the

young, the old, the infirm and helpless. But the weaker the party, the

more did the spirit rise to endure his sufferings. Many affecting

instances are recorded of persons who, with no support but their trust

in heaven, displayed the most heroic fortitude in the presence of their

judges, and, by the boldness with which they asserted their opinions,

seemed even to court the crown of martyrdom. On the scaffold and at the

stake this intrepid spirit did not desert them; and the testimony they

bore to the truth of the cause for which they suffered had such an

effect on the bystanders, that it was found necessary to silence them. A

cruel device for more effectually accomplishing this was employed by the

officials. The tip of the tongue was seared with a red-hot iron, and the

swollen member then compressed between two plates of metal screwed fast

together. Thus gagged, the groans of the wretched sufferer found vent in

strange sounds, that excited the brutal merriment of his

tormentors.[1067]

But it is needless to dwell longer on the miseries endured by the people

of the Netherlands in this season of trial. Yet, if the cruelties

perpetrated in the name of religion are most degrading to humanity, they

must be allowed to have called forth the most sublime spectacle which

humanity can present,--that of the martyr offering up his life on the

altar of principle.

It is difficult--in fact, from the data in my possession, not

possible--to calculate the number of those who fell by the hand of the

executioner in this dismal persecution.[1068] The number, doubtless, was

not great as compared with the population of the country,--not so great

as we may find left, almost every year of our lives, on a single

battle-field. When the forms of legal proceedings are maintained, the

movements of justice--if the name can be so profaned--are comparatively

tardy. It is only, as in the French Revolution, when thousands are swept

down by the cannon, or whole cargoes of wretched victims are plunged at

once into the waters, that death moves on with the gigantic stride of

pestilence and war.

[Sidenote: CONFISCATIONS.]

But the amount of suffering from such a persecution is not to be

estimated merely by the number of those who have actually suffered

death, when the fear of death hung like a naked sword over every man's

head. Alva had expressed to Philip the wish that every man, as he lay

down at night, or as he rose in the morning, "might feel that his house,

at any hour, might fall and crush him!"[1069] This humane wish was

accomplished. Those who escaped death had to fear a fate scarcely less

dreadful, in banishment and confiscation of property. The persecution

very soon took this direction; and persecution when prompted by avarice

is even more odious than when it springs from fanaticism, which,

however degrading in itself, is but the perversion of the religious

principle.

Sentence of perpetual exile and confiscation was pronounced at once

against all who fled the country.[1070] Even the dead were not spared;

as is shown by the process instituted against the marquis of Bergen, for

the confiscation of his estates on the charge of treason. That nobleman

had gone with Montigny, as the reader may remember, on his mission to

Madrid, where he had recently died,--more fortunate than his companion,

who survived for a darker destiny. The duke's emissaries were everywhere

active in making inventories of the property of the suspected parties.

"I am going to arrest some of the richest and worst offenders," writes

Alva to his master, "and bring them to a pecuniary composition."[1071]

He shall next proceed, he says, against the delinquent cities. In this

way a round sum will flow into his majesty's coffers.[1072] The victims

of this class were so numerous, that we find a single sentence of the

council sometimes comprehending eighty or a hundred individuals. One

before me, in fewer words than are taken up by the names of the parties,

dooms no less than a hundred and thirty-five inhabitants of Amsterdam to

confiscation and exile.[1073]

One may imagine the distress brought on this once flourishing country by

this wholesale proscription; for besides the parties directly

interested, there was a host of others incidentally affected,--hospitals

and charitable establishments, widows and helpless orphans, now reduced

to want by the failure of the sources which supplied them with their

ordinary subsistence.[1074] Slow and sparing must have been the justice

doled out to such impotent creditors, when they preferred their claims

to a tribunal like the Council of Blood! The effect was soon visible in

the decay of trade and the rapid depopulation of the towns.

Notwithstanding the dreadful penalties denounced against fugitives,

great numbers, especially from the border states, contrived to make

their escape. The neighboring districts of Germany opened their arms to

the wanderers; and many a wretched exile from the northern provinces,

flying across the frozen waters of the Zuyder Zee, found refuge within

the hospitable walls of Embden.[1075] Even in an inland city like Ghent,

half the houses, if we may credit the historian, were abandoned.[1076]

Not a family was there, he says, but some of its members had tasted the

bitterness of exile or of death.[1077] "The fury of persecution," writes

the prince of Orange, "spreads such horror throughout the nation, that

thousands, and among them some of the principal Papists, have fled a

country where tyranny seems to be directed against all, without

distinction of faith."[1078]

Yet in a financial point of view the results did not keep pace with

Alva's wishes. Notwithstanding the large amount of the confiscations,

the proceeds, as he complains to Philip, were absorbed in so many ways,

especially by the peculation of his agents, that he doubted whether the

expense would not come to more than the profits![1079] He was equally

dissatisfied with the conduct of other functionaries. The commissioners

sent into the provinces, instead of using their efforts to detect the

guilty, seemed disposed, he said, rather to conceal them. Even the

members of the Council of Troubles manifested so much apathy in their

vocation, as to give him more annoyance than the delinquents

themselves![1080] The only person who showed any zeal in the service was

Vargas. He was worth all the others of the council put together.[1081]

The duke might have excepted from this sweeping condemnation Hessels,

the lawyer of Ghent, if the rumors concerning him were true. This worthy

councillor, it is said, would sometimes fall asleep in his chair, worn

out by the fatigue of trying causes and signing death-warrants. In this

state, when suddenly called on to pronounce the doom of the prisoner, he

would cry out, half awake, and rubbing his eyes, "_Ad patibulum! Ad

patibulum!_"--"To the gallows! To the gallows!"[1082]

[Sidenote: RESULTS.]

But Vargas was after the duke's own heart. Alva was never weary of

commending his follower to the king. He besought Philip to interpose in

his behalf, and cause three suits which had been brought against that

functionary to be suspended during his absence from Spain. The king

accordingly addressed the judge on the subject. But the magistrate (his

name should have been preserved) had the independence to reply, that

"justice must take its course, and could not be suspended from favor to

any one." "Nor would I have it so," answered Philip, (it is the king who

tells it;) "I would do only what is possible to save the interests of

Vargas from suffering by his absence." In conclusion he tells the duke,

that Vargas should give no heed to what is said of the suits, since he

must be assured, after the letter he has received under the royal hand,

that his sovereign fully approves his conduct.[1083] But if Vargas, by

his unscrupulous devotion to the cause, won the confidence of his

employers, he incurred, on the other hand, the unmitigated hatred of the

people,--a hatred deeper, it would almost seem, than even that which

attached to Alva; owing perhaps to the circumstance that, as the

instrument for the execution of the duke's measures, Vargas was brought

more immediately in contact with the people than the duke himself.

As we have already seen, many, especially of those who dwelt in the

border provinces, escaped the storm of persecution by voluntary exile.

The suspected parties would seem to have received, not unfrequently,

kindly intimations from the local magistrates of the fate that menaced

them.[1084] Others, who lived in the interior, were driven to more

desperate courses. They banded together in considerable numbers, under

the name of the "wild _Gueux_,"--"_Gueux sauvages_,"--and took refuge in

the forests, particularly of West Flanders. Thence they sallied forth,

fell upon unsuspecting travellers, especially the monks and

ecclesiastics, whom they robbed, and sometimes murdered. Occasionally

they were so bold as to invade the monasteries and churches, stripping

them of their rich ornaments, their plate and other valuables, when,

loaded with booty, they hurried back to their fastnesses. The evil

proceeded to such a length, that the governor-general was obliged to

order out a strong force to exterminate the banditti, while at the same

time he published an edict, declaring that every district should be held

responsible for the damage done to property within its limits by these

marauders.[1085]

It might be supposed that, under the general feeling of resentment

provoked by Alva's cruel policy, his life would have been in constant

danger from the hand of the assassin. Once, indeed, he had nearly fallen

a victim to a conspiracy headed by two brothers, men of good family in

Flanders, who formed a plan to kill him while attending mass at an abbey

in the neighborhood of Brussels.[1086] But Alva was not destined to fall

by the hand of violence.

We may well believe that wise and temperate men, like Viglius, condemned

the duke's proceedings as no less impolitic than cruel. That this

veteran councillor did so is apparent from his confidential letters,

though he was too prudent to expose himself to Alva's enmity by openly

avowing it.[1087] There were others, however,--the princes of Germany,

in particular,--who had no such reasons for dissembling, and who carried

their remonstrances to a higher tribunal than that of the

governor-general.

On the second of March, 1568, the Emperor Maximilian, in the name of the

electors, addressed a letter to Philip, in behalf of his oppressed

subjects in the Netherlands. He reminded the king that he had already

more than once, and in most affectionate terms, interceded with him for

a milder and more merciful policy towards his Flemish subjects. He

entreated his royal kinsman to reflect whether it were not better to

insure the tranquillity of the state by winning the hearts of his

people, than by excessive rigor to drive them to extremity. And he

concluded by intimating that, as a member of the Germanic body, the

Netherlands had a right to be dealt with in that spirit of clemency

which was conformable to the constitutions of the empire.[1088]

Although neither the arguments nor the importunity of Maximilian had

power to shake the constancy of Philip, he did not refuse to enter into

some explanation, if not vindication, of his conduct. "What I have

done," he replied, "has been for the repose of the provinces, and for

the defence of the Catholic faith. If I had respected justice less, I

should have despatched the whole business in a single day. No one

acquainted with the state of affairs will find reason to censure my

severity. Nor would I do otherwise than I have done, though I should

risk the sovereignty of the Netherlands,--no, though the world should

fall in ruins around me!"[1089]--Such a reply effectually closed the

correspondence.

The wretched people of the Netherlands, meanwhile, now looked to the

prince of Orange as the only refuge left them, under Providence. Those

who fled the country, especially persons of higher condition, gathered

round his little court at Dillemburg, where they were eagerly devising

plans for the best means of restoring freedom to their country. They

brought with them repeated invitations from their countrymen to William

that he would take up arms in their defence. The Protestants of Antwerp,

in particular, promised that, if he would raise funds by coining his

plate, they would agree to pay him double the value of it.[1090]

William had no wish nearer his heart than that of assuming the

enterprise. But he knew the difficulties that lay in the way, and, like

a wise man, he was not disposed to enter on it till he saw the means of

carrying it through successfully. To the citizens of Antwerp he

answered, that not only would he devote his plate, but his person and

all that he possessed, most willingly, for the freedom of religion and

of his country.[1091] But the expenses of raising a force were

great,--at the very least, six hundred thousand florins; nor could he

now undertake to procure that amount, unless some of the principal

merchants, whom he named, would consent to remain with him as

security.[1092]

In the mean time he was carrying on an extensive correspondence with the

German princes, with the leaders of the Huguenot party in France, and

even with the English government,--endeavoring to propitiate them to the

cause, as one in which every Protestant had an interest. From the

elector of Saxony and the landgrave of Hesse he received assurances of

aid. Considerable sums seem to have been secretly remitted from the

principal towns in the Low Countries; while Culemborg, Hoogstraten,

Louis of Nassau, and the other great lords who shared his exile,

contributed as largely as their dilapidated fortunes would allow.[1093]

The prince himself parted with his most precious effects, pawning his

jewels, and sending his plate to the mint,--"the fit ornaments of a

palace," exclaims an old writer, "but yielding little for the

necessities of war."[1094]

[Sidenote: ORANGE ASSEMBLES AN ARMY]

By these sacrifices a considerable force was assembled before the end of

April, consisting of the most irregular and incongruous materials. There

were German mercenaries, who had no interest in the cause beyond their

pay; Huguenots from France, who brought into the field a hatred of the

Roman Catholics which made them little welcome, even as allies, to a

large portion of the Netherlands; and, lastly, exiles from the

Netherlands,--the only men worthy of the struggle,--who held life cheap

in comparison with the great cause to which they devoted it. But these,

however strong in their patriotism, were for the most part simple

burghers untrained to arms, and ill fitted to cope with the hardy

veterans of Castile.

Before completing his levies, the prince of Orange, at the suggestion of

his friend, the landgrave of Hesse, prepared and published a document,

known as his "Justification," in which he vindicated himself and his

cause from the charges of Alva. He threw the original blame of the

troubles on Granvelle, denied having planned or even promoted the

confederacy of the nobles, and treated with scorn the charge of having,

from motives of criminal ambition, fomented rebellion in a country where

he had larger interests at stake than almost any other inhabitant. He

touched on his own services, as well as those of his ancestors, and the

ingratitude with which they had been requited by the throne. And in

conclusion, he prayed that his majesty might at length open his eyes to

the innocence of his persecuted subjects, and that it might be made

apparent to the world that the wrongs inflicted on them had come from

evil counsellors rather than himself.[1095]

The plan of the campaign was, to distract the duke's attention, and, if

possible, create a general rising in the country, by assailing it on

three several points at once. A Huguenot corps, under an adventurer

named Cocqueville, was to operate against Artois. Hoogstraten, with the

lord of Villers, and others of the banished nobles, were to penetrate

the country in a central direction through Brabant. While William's

brothers, the Counts Louis and Adolphus, at the head of a force, partly

Flemish, partly German, were to carry the war over the northern borders,

into Groningen; the prince himself, who established his head-quarters in

the neighborhood of Cleves, was busy in assembling a force prepared to

support any one of the divisions, as occasion might require.

It was the latter part of April, before Hoogstraten and Louis took the

field. The Huguenots ware still later; and William met with difficulties

which greatly retarded the formation of his own corps. The great

difficulty--one which threatened to defeat the enterprise at its

commencement--was the want of money, equally felt in raising troops and

in enforcing discipline among them when they were raised. "If you have

any love for me," he writes to his friend, the "wise" landgrave of

Hesse, "I beseech you to aid me privately with a sum sufficient to meet

the pay of the troops for the first month. Without this I shall be in

danger of failing in my engagements,--to me worse than death; to say

nothing of the ruin which such a failure must bring on our credit and on

the cause."[1096] We are constantly reminded, in the career of the

prince of Orange, of the embarrassments under which our own Washington

labored in the time of the Revolution, and of the patience and

unconquerable spirit which enabled him to surmount them.

Little need be said of two of the expeditions, which were failures.

Hoogstraten had scarcely crossed the frontier, towards the end of April,

when he was met by Alva's trusty lieutenant, Sancho Davila, and beaten,

with considerable loss. Villers and some others of the rebel lords, made

prisoners, escaped the sword of the enemy in the field, to fall by that

of the executioner in Brussels. Hoogstraten, with the remnant of his

forces, made good his retreat, and effected a junction with the prince

of Orange.[1097]

Cocqueville met with a worse fate. A detachment of French troops was

sent against him by Charles the Ninth, who thus requited the service of

the same kind he had lately received from the duke of Alva. On the

approach of their countrymen, the Huguenots basely laid down their arms.

Cocqueville and his principal officers were surrounded, made prisoners,

and perished ignominiously on the scaffold.[1098]

The enterprise of Louis of Nassau was attended with different results.

Yet after he had penetrated into Groningen, he was sorely embarrassed by

the mutinous spirit of the German mercenaries. The province was defended

by Count Aremberg, its governor, a brave old officer, who had studied

the art of war under Charles the Fifth; one of those models of chivalry

on whom the men of a younger generation are ambitious to form

themselves. He had been employed on many distinguished services; and

there were few men at the court of Brussels who enjoyed higher

consideration under both Philip and his father. The strength of his

forces lay in his Spanish infantry. He was deficient in cavalry, but was

soon to be reinforced by a body of horse under Count Megen, who was a

day's march in his rear.

Aremberg soon came in sight of Louis, who was less troubled by the

presence of his enemy than by the disorderly conduct of his German

soldiers, clamorous for their pay. Doubtful of his men, Louis declined

to give battle to a foe so far superior to him in everything but

numbers. He accordingly established himself in an uncommonly strong

position, which the nature of the ground fortunately afforded. In his

rear, protected by a thick wood, stood the convent of Heyligerlee, which

gave its name to the battle. In front the land sloped towards an

extensive morass. His infantry, on the left, was partly screened by a

hill from the enemy's fire; and on the right he stationed his cavalry,

under the command of his brother Adolphus, who was to fall on the

enemy's flank, should they be hardy enough to give battle.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF HEYLIGERLEE.]

But Aremberg was too well acquainted with the difficulties of the ground

to risk an engagement, at least till he was strengthened by the

reinforcement under Megen. Unfortunately, the Spanish infantry,

accustomed to victory, and feeling a contempt for the disorderly levies

opposed to them, loudly called to be led against the heretics. In vain

their more prudent general persisted in his plan. They chafed at the

delay, refusing to a Flemish commander the obedience which they might

probably have paid to one of their own nation. They openly accused him

of treachery, and of having an understanding with his countrymen in the

enemy's camp. Stung by their reproaches, Aremberg had the imprudence to

do what more than one brave man has been led to do, both before and

since; he surrendered his own judgment to the importunities of his

soldiers. Crying out that "they should soon see if he were a

traitor!"[1099] he put himself at the head of his little army, and

marched against the enemy. His artillery, meanwhile, which he had posted

on his right, opened a brisk fire on Louis's left wing, where, owing to

the nature of the ground, it did little execution.

Under cover of this fire the main body of the Spanish infantry moved

forward; but, as their commander had foreseen, the men soon became

entangled in the morass; their ranks were thrown into disorder; and when

at length, after long and painful efforts, they emerged on the firm

ground, they were more spent with toil than they would have been after a

hard day's march. Thus jaded, and sadly in disarray, they were at once

assailed in front by an enemy who, conscious of his own advantage, was

all fresh and hot for action. Notwithstanding their distressed

condition, Aremberg's soldiers maintained their ground for some time,

like men unaccustomed to defeat. At length, Louis ordered the cavalry on

his right to charge Aremberg's flank. This unexpected movement,

occurring at a critical moment, decided the day. Assailed in front and

in flank, hemmed in by the fatal morass in the rear, the Spaniards were

thrown into utter confusion. In vain their gallant leader, proof against

danger, though not against the taunts of his followers, endeavored to

rally them. His horse was killed under him; and as he was mounting

another, he received a shot from a foot-soldier, and fell mortally

wounded from his saddle.[1100] The rout now became general. Some took to

the morass, and fell into the hands of the victors. Some succeeded in

cutting their way through the ranks of their assailants, while many more

lost their lives in the attempt. The ground was covered with the wounded

and the dead. The victory was complete.

Sixteen hundred of the enemy were left on that fatal field. In the

imagination of the exile thirsting for vengeance, it might serve in some

degree to balance the bloody roll of victims whom the pitiless duke had

sent to their account. Nine pieces of artillery, with a large quantity

of ammunition and military stores, a rich service of plate belonging to

Aremberg, and a considerable sum of money lately received by him to pay

the arrears of the soldiers, fell into the hands of the patriots. Yet as

serious a loss as any inflicted on the Spaniards was that of their

brave commander. His corpse, disfigured by wounds, was recognized, amid

a heap of the slain, by the insignia of the Golden Fleece, which he wore

round his neck, and which Louis sent to the prince, his brother, as a

proud trophy of his victory.[1101] The joy of the conquerors was dimmed

by one mournful event, the death of Count Adolphus of Nassau, who fell

bravely fighting at the head of his troops, one of the first victims in

the war of the revolution. He was a younger brother of William, only

twenty-seven years of age. But he had already given promise of those

heroic qualities which proved him worthy of the generous race from which

he sprung.[1102]

The battle was fought on the twenty-third of May, 1568. On the day

following, Count Megen arrived with a reinforcement; too late to secure

the victory, but not, as it proved, too late to snatch the fruits of it

from the victors. By a rapid movement, he succeeded in throwing himself

into the town of Groningen, and thus saved that important place from

falling into the hands of the patriots.[1103]

The tidings of the battle of Heyligerlee caused a great sensation

through the country. While it raised the hopes of the malecontents, it

filled the duke of Alva with indignation,--the greater as he perceived

that the loss of the battle was to be referred mainly to the misconduct

of his own soldiers. He saw with alarm the disastrous effect likely to

be produced by so brilliant a success on the part of the rebels, in the

very beginning of the struggle. The hardy men of Friesland would rise to

assert their independence. The prince of Orange, with his German levies,

would unite with his victorious brother, and, aided by the inhabitants,

would be in condition to make formidable head against any force that

Alva could muster. It was an important crisis, and called for prompt and

decisive action. The duke, with his usual energy, determined to employ

no agent here, but to take the affair into his own hands, concentrate

his forces, and march in person against the enemy.

[Sidenote: ALVA's PROCEEDINGS.]

Yet there were some things he deemed necessary to be done, if it were

only for their effect on the public mind, before entering on the

campaign. On the twenty-eighth of May, sentence was passed on the prince

of Orange, his brother Louis, and their noble companions. They were

pronounced guilty of contumacy in not obeying the summons of the

council, and of levying war against the king. For this they were

condemned to perpetual banishment, and their estates confiscated to the

use of the crown. The sentence was signed by the duke of Alva.[1104]

William's estates had been already sequestrated, and a body of Spanish

troops was quartered in his town of Breda.

Another act, of a singular nature, intimated pretty clearly the

dispositions of the government. The duke caused the Hôtel de Culemborg,

where he had fixed his own residence before the regent's departure, and

where the Gueux had held their meetings on coming to Brussels, to be

levelled with the ground. On the spot a marble column was raised,

bearing on each side of the base the following inscription: "Here once

stood the mansion of Florence Pallant,"--the name of the count of

Culemborg,--"now razed to the ground for the execrable conspiracy

plotted therein against religion, the Roman Catholic Church, the king's

majesty, and the country."[1105] Alva by this act intended doubtless to

proclaim to the world, not so much his detestation of the

confederacy--that would have been superfluous--as his determination to

show no mercy to those who had taken part in it. Indeed, in his letters,

on more than one occasion, he speaks of the signers of the Compromise as

men who had placed themselves beyond the pale of mercy.

But all these acts were only the prelude to the dismal tragedy which was

soon to be performed. Nearly nine months had elapsed since the arrest of

the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. During all this time they had remained

prisoners of state, under a strong guard, in the castle of Ghent. Their

prosecution had been conducted in a deliberate, and indeed dilatory

manner, which had nourished in their friends the hope of a favorable

issue. Alva now determined to bring the trial to a close,--to pass

sentence of death on the two lords, and to carry it into execution

before departing on his expedition.

It was in vain that some of his counsellors remonstrated on the

impolicy, at a crisis like the present, of outraging the feelings of the

nation, by whom Egmont in particular was so much beloved. In vain they

suggested that the two nobles would serve as hostages for the good

behavior of the people during his absence, since any tumult must only

tend to precipitate the fate of the prisoners.[1106] Whether it was that

Alva distrusted the effect on his master of the importunities, from

numerous quarters, in their behalf; or, what is far more likely, that he

feared lest some popular rising, during his absence, might open the

gates to his prisoners, he was determined to proceed at once to their

execution. His appetite for vengeance may have been sharpened by

mortification at the reverse his arms had lately experienced; and he may

have felt that a blow like the present would be the most effectual to

humble the arrogance of the nation.

There were some other prisoners of less note, but of no little

consideration, who remained to be disposed of. Their execution would

prepare the public mind for the last scene of the drama. There were

nineteen persons who, at this time, lay in confinement in the castle of

Vilvoorde, a fortress of great strength, two leagues distant from

Brussels. They were chiefly men of rank, and for the most part members

of the Union. For these latter, of course, there was no hope. Their

trials were now concluded, and they were only waiting their sentences.

On the ominous twenty-eighth of May, a day on which the Council of Blood

seems to have been uncommonly alert, they were all, without exception,

condemned to be beheaded, and their estates were confiscated to the

public use.

On the first of June, they were brought to Brussels, having been

escorted there by nine companies of Spanish infantry, were conducted to

the great square in front of the Hôtel de Ville, and, while the drums

beat to prevent their last words from reaching the ears of the

by-standers, their heads were struck off by the sword of the

executioner. Eight of the number, who died in the Roman Catholic faith,

were graciously allowed the rites of Christian burial. The heads of the

remaining eleven were set upon poles, and their bodies left to rot upon

the gibbet, like those of the vilest malefactors.[1107]

On the second of June, ten or twelve more, some of them persons of

distinction, perished on the scaffold, in the same square in Brussels.

Among these was Villers, the companion of Hoogstraten in the ill-starred

expedition to Brabant, in which he was made prisoner. Since his

captivity he had made some disclosures respecting the measures of Orange

and his party, which might have entitled him to the consideration of

Alva. But he had signed the Compromise.

On the following day, five other victims were led to execution within

the walls of Vilvoorde, where they had been long confined. One of these

has some interest for us, Casembrot, lord of Backerzele, Egmont's

confidential secretary. That unfortunate gentleman had been put to the

rack more than once, to draw from him disclosures to the prejudice of

Egmont. But his constancy proved stronger than the cruelty of his

persecutors. He was now to close his sufferings by an ignominious death;

so far fortunate, however, that it saved him from witnessing the fate of

his beloved master.[1108] Such were the gloomy scenes which ushered in

the great catastrophe of the fifth of June.

[Sidenote: THE EXAMINATION.]

CHAPTER IV.

TRIALS OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Examination.--Efforts in their Behalf.--Specification of

Charges.--Sentence of Death.--The Processes reviewed.

1568.

Nine months had now elapsed since the Counts Egmont and Hoorne had been

immured within the strong citadel of Ghent. During their confinement

they had met with even less indulgence than was commonly shown to

prisoners of state. They were not allowed to take the air of the castle,

and were debarred from all intercourse with the members of their

families. The sequestration of their property at the time of their

arrest had moreover reduced them to such extreme indigence, that but for

the care of their friends they would have wanted the common necessaries

of life.[1109]

During this period their enemies had not been idle. We have seen, at the

time of the arrest of the two nobles, that their secretaries and their

private papers had been also seized. "Backerzele," writes the duke of

Alva to Philip, "makes disclosures every day respecting his master Count

Egmont. When he is put to the torture, wonders may be expected from him

in this way!"[1110] But all that the rack extorted from the unhappy man

was some obscure intimation respecting a place in which Egmont had

secreted a portion of his effects. After turning up the ground in every

direction round the castle of Ghent, the Spaniards succeeded in

disinterring eleven boxes filled with plate, and some caskets of jewels,

and other precious articles,--all that now remained of Egmont's once

splendid fortune.[1111]

Meanwhile commissioners were sent into the provinces placed under the

rule of the two noblemen to collect information respecting their

government. The burgomasters of the towns were closely questioned, and,

where they showed reluctance, were compelled by menaces to answer. But

what Alva chiefly relied on was the examination of the prisoners

themselves.

On the twelfth of November, 1567, a commission composed of Vargas, Del

Rio, and the secretary Pratz, proceeded to Ghent, and began a personal

examination of Egmont. The interrogatories covered the whole ground of

the recent troubles. They were particularly directed to ascertain

Egmont's relations with the reformed party, but above all, his

connection with the confederates,--the offence of deepest dye in the

view of the commissioners. The examination continued through five days;

and a record, signed and sworn to by the several parties, furnished the

basis of the future proceedings against the prisoner. A similar course

was then taken in regard to Hoorne.[1112]

In the mean time the friends of the two nobles were making active

exertions in their behalf. Egmont, as we have already seen, was married

to a German princess, Sabina, sister of the elector of Bavaria,--a lady

who, from her rank, the charm of her manners, and her irreproachable

character, was the most distinguished ornament of the court of Brussels.

She was the mother of eleven children, the eldest of them still of

tender age. Surrounded by this numerous and helpless family, thus

suddenly reduced from affluence to miserable penury, the countess became

the object of general commiseration. Even the stern heart of Alva seems

to have been touched, as he notices her "lamentable situation," in one

of his letters to Philip.[1113]

The unhappy lady was fortunate in securing the services of Nicolas de

Landas, one of the most eminent jurists of the country, and a personal

friend of her husband. In her name, he addressed letters to several of

the German princes, and to the Emperor Maximilian, requesting their good

offices in behalf of her lord. He also wrote both to Alva and the king,

less to solicit the release of Egmont--a thing little to be

expected--than to obtain the removal of the cause from the Council of

Blood to a court consisting of the knights of the Golden Fleece. To this

both Egmont and Hoorne had a good claim, as belonging to that order, the

statutes of which, solemnly ratified by Philip himself, guarantied to

its members the right of being tried only by their peers. The frank and

independent tone with which the Flemish jurist, himself also one of the

order, and well skilled in the law, urged this claim on the Spanish

monarch, reflects honor on his memory.

Hoorne's wife, also a German lady of high connection, and his

step-mother, the countess-dowager, were unwearied in their exertions in

his behalf. They wrote to the knights of the Golden Fleece, in whatever

country residing, and obtained their written testimony to the

inalienable right of the accused to be tried by his brethren.[1114] This

was obviously a point of the last importance, since a trial by the

Council of Blood was itself equivalent to a condemnation.

Several of the electors, as well as other princes of the empire,

addressed Philip directly on the subject, beseeching him to deal with

the two nobles according to the statutes of the order. Maximilian wrote

two letters to the same purpose; and, touching on the brilliant services

of Egmont, he endeavored to excite the king's compassion for the

desolate condition of the countess and her children.[1115]

[Sidenote: SPECIFICATION OF CHARGES.]

But it was not foreigners only who interceded in behalf of the lords.

Mansfeldt, than whom Philip had not a more devoted subject in the

Netherlands, implored his sovereign to act conformably to justice and

reason in the matter.[1116] Count Barlaimont, who on all occasions had

proved himself no less stanch in his loyalty, found himself now in an

embarrassing situation,--being both a knight of the order and a member

of the Council of Troubles. He wrote accordingly to Philip, beseeching

his majesty to relieve him from the necessity of either acting like a

disloyal subject or of incurring the reproaches of his brethren.[1117]

Still more worthy of notice is the interference of Cardinal Granvelle,

who, forgetting his own disgrace, for which he had been indebted to

Egmont perhaps as much as to any other person, now generously interceded

in behalf of his ancient foe. He invoked the clemency of Philip, as more

worthy of a great prince than rigor. He called to mind the former good

deeds of the count, and declared, if he had since been led astray, the

blame was chargeable on others rather than on himself.[1118] But

although the cardinal wrote more than once to the king in this strain,

it was too late to efface the impression made by former communications,

in which he had accused his rival of being a party to the treasonable

designs of the prince of Orange.[1119] This impression had been deepened

by the reports from time to time received from the regent, who at one

period, as we have seen, withdrew her confidence altogether from Egmont.

Thus the conviction of that nobleman's guilt was so firmly settled in

the king's mind, that, when Alva received the government of the

Netherlands, there can be little doubt that Egmont was already marked

out as the first great victim to expiate the sins of the nation. The

arguments and entreaties, therefore, used on the present occasion to

dissuade Philip from his purpose, had no other effect than to quicken

his movements. Anxious to rid himself of importunities so annoying, he

ordered Alva to press forward the trial, adding, at the same time, that

all should be made so clear that the world, whose eyes were now turned

on these proceedings, might be satisfied of their justice.[1120]

Before the end of December the attorney-general Du Bois had prepared the

articles of accusation against Egmont. They amounted to no less than

ninety, some of them of great length. They chiefly rested on evidence

derived from the personal examination, sustained by information gathered

from other quarters. The first article, which, indeed, may be said to

have been the key to all the rest, charged Egmont with having conspired

with William and the other banished lords to shake off the Spanish rule,

and divide the government among themselves. With this view he had made

war on the faithful Granvelle, had sought to concentrate the powers of

the various councils into one, had resisted the Inquisition, had urged

the meeting of the states-general, in short, had thwarted, as far as

possible, in every particular, the intentions of the king. He was

accused, moreover, of giving encouragement to the sectaries. He had not

only refused his aid when asked to repress their violence, but had

repeatedly licensed their meetings, and allowed them to celebrate their

religious rites. Egmont was too stanch a Catholic to warrant his own

faith being called into question. It was only in connection with the

political movements of the country that he was supposed to have

countenanced the party of religious reform. Lastly he was charged, not

only with abetting the confederacy of the nobles, but with having, in

conjunction with the prince of Orange and his associates, devised the

original plan of it. It was proof of the good-will he bore the league,

that he had retained in his service more than one member of his

household after they had subscribed the Compromise. On these various

grounds, Egmont was declared to be guilty of treason.[1121]

The charges, which cover a great space, would seem at the first glance

to be crudely put together, confounding things trivial, and even

irrelevant to the question, with others of real moment.[1122] Yet they

must be admitted to have been so cunningly prepared as to leave an

impression most unfavorable to the innocence of the prisoner. The

attorney-general, sometimes audaciously perverting the answers of

Egmont,[1123] at other times giving an exaggerated importance to his

occasional admissions, succeeded in spreading his meshes so artfully,

that it required no slight degree of coolness and circumspection, even

in an innocent party, to escape from them.

The instrument was delivered to Egmont on the twenty-ninth of December.

Five days only were allowed him to prepare his defence,--and that too

without the aid of a friend to support, or of counsel to advise him. He

at first resolutely declined to make a defence at all, declaring that he

was amenable to no tribunal but that of the members of the order. Being

informed, however, that if he persisted he would be condemned for

contumacy, he consented, though with a formal protest against the

proceeding as illegal, to enter on his defence.

He indignantly disclaimed the idea of any design to subvert the existing

government. He admitted the charges in regard to his treatment of

Granvelle, and defended his conduct on the ground of expediency,--of its

being demanded by the public interest. On the same ground he explained

his course in reference to some of the other matters charged on him, and

especially in relation to the sectaries,--too strong in numbers, he

maintained, to be openly resisted. He positively denied the connection

imputed to him with the confederates; declaring that, far from

countenancing the league, he had always lamented its existence, and

discouraged all within his reach from joining it. In reply to the charge

of not having dismissed Backerzele after it was known that he had joined

the confederates, he excused himself by alleging the good services which

his secretary had rendered the government, more especially in repressing

the disorders of the iconoclasts. On the whole, his answers seem to have

been given in good faith, and convey the impression--probably not far

from the truth--of one who, while he did not approve of the policy of

the crown, and thought, indeed, some of its measures impracticable, had

no design to overturn the government.[1124]

[Sidenote: DEFENCE OF THE PRISONERS.]

The attorney-general next prepared his accusation of Count Hoorne,

consisting of sixty-three separate charges. They were of much the same

import with those brought against Egmont. The bold, impatient temper of

the admiral made him particularly open to the assault of his enemies.

He was still more peremptory than his friend in his refusal to

relinquish his rights as a knight of the Golden Fleece, and appear

before the tribunal of Alva. When prevailed on to waive his scruples,

his defence was couched in language so direct and manly as at once

engages our confidence. "Unskilled as I am in this sort of business," he

remarks, "and without the aid of counsel to guide me, if I have fallen

into errors, they must be imputed, not to intention, but to the want of

experience.... I can only beseech those who shall read my defence to

believe that it has been made sincerely and in all truth, as becomes a

gentleman of honorable descent."[1125]

By the remonstrances of the prisoners and their friends, the duke was at

length prevailed on to allow them counsel. Each of the two lords

obtained the services of five of the most eminent jurists of the

country; who, to their credit, seem not to have shrunk from a duty

which, if not attended with actual danger, certainly did not lie in the

road to preferment.[1126]

The counsel of the two lords lost no time in preparing the defence of

their clients, taking up each charge brought against them by the

attorney-general, and minutely replying to it. Their defence was

substantially the same with that which had been set up by the prisoners

themselves, though more elaborate, and sustained by a greater array both

of facts and arguments.[1127] Meanwhile the counsel did not remit their

efforts to have the causes brought before the tribunal of the _Toison

d'Or_. Unless this could be effected, they felt that all endeavors to

establish the innocence of their clients would be unavailing.

Alva had early foreseen the embarrassment to which he would be exposed

on this ground. He had accordingly requested Philip to stop all further

solicitations by making known his own decision in the matter.[1128] The

king in reply assured the duke that men of authority and learning, to

whom the subject had been committed, after a full examination, entirely

confirmed the decision made before Alva's departure, that the case of

treason did not come within the cognizance of the _Toison d'Or_.[1129]

Letters patent accompanied this note, empowering the duke to try the

cause.[1130] With these credentials Alva now strove to silence, if not

to satisfy, the counsel of the prisoners; and, by a formal decree, all

further applications for transferring the cause from his own

jurisdiction to that of the Golden Fleece were peremptorily forbidden.

Yet all were not to be thus silenced. Egmont's countess still continued

unwearied in her efforts to excite a sympathy in her lord's behalf in

all those who would be likely to have any influence with the government.

Early in 1568 she again wrote to Philip, complaining that she had not

been allowed so much as to see her husband. She implored the king to

take her and her children as sureties for Egmont, and permit him to be

removed to one of his own houses. If that could not be, she begged that

he might at least be allowed the air of the castle, lest, though

innocent, his confinement might cost him his life. She alludes to her

miserable condition, with her young and helpless family, and trusts in

the king's goodness and justice that she shall not be forced to seek a

subsistence in Germany, from which country she had been brought to

Flanders by his father the emperor.[1131] The letter, says a chronicler

of the time, was not to be read by any one without sincere commiseration

for the writer.[1132]

The German princes, at the same time, continued their intercessions with

the king for both the nobles; and the duke of Bavaria, and the duke and

duchess of Lorraine, earnestly invoked his clemency in their behalf.

Philip, wearied by this importunity but not wavering in his purpose,

again called on Alva to press the trial to a conclusion.[1133]

Towards the end of April, 1568, came that irruption across the borders

by Hoogstraten and the other lords, described in the previous chapter.

Alva, feeling probably that his own presence might be required to check

the invaders, found an additional motive for bringing the trials to a

decision.

On the sixth of May, the attorney-general presented a remonstrance

against the dilatory proceedings of Egmont's counsel, declaring that,

although so many months had elapsed, they had neglected to bring forward

their witnesses in support of their defence. He prayed that a day might

be named for the termination of the process.[1134]

[Sidenote: SENTENCE OF DEATH.]

In the latter part of May, news came of the battle won by Louis of

Nassau in the north. That now became certain which had before been only

probable,--that Alva must repair in person to the seat of war, and

assume the command of the army. There could be no further delay. On the

first of June, a decree was published declaring that the time allowed

for the defence of the prisoners had expired, and that no evidence could

henceforth be admitted.[1135] The counsel for the accused loudly

protested against a decision which cut them off from all means of

establishing the innocence of their clients. They had abundant testimony

at hand, they said, and had only waited until the government should have

produced theirs. This was plausible, as it was in the regular course for

the prosecuting party to take precedence. But one can hardly doubt that

the wary lawyers knew that too little was to be expected from a tribunal

like the Council of Blood to wish to have the case brought to a

decision. By delaying matters, some circumstance might occur,--perhaps

some stronger expression of the public sentiment,--to work a favorable

change in the mind of the king. Poor as it was, this was the only chance

for safety; and every day that the decision was postponed was a day

gained to their clients.

But no time was given for expostulation. On the day on which Alva's

decree was published, the affair was submitted to the decision of the

Council of Blood; and on the following morning, the second of June, that

body--or rather Vargas and Del Rio, the only members who had a voice in

the matter--pronounced both the prisoners guilty of treason, and doomed

them to death. The sentence was approved by Alva.

On the evening of the fourth, Alva went in person to the meeting of the

council. The sentences of the two lords, each under a sealed envelope,

were produced, and read aloud by the secretary. They were both of

precisely the same import. After the usual preamble, they pronounced the

Counts Egmont and Hoorne to have been proved parties to the abominable

league and conspiracy of the prince of Orange and his associates; to

have given aid and protection to the confederates; and to have committed

sundry malepractices in their respective governments in regard to the

sectaries, to the prejudice of the holy Catholic faith. On these grounds

they were adjudged guilty of treason and rebellion, and were sentenced

accordingly to be beheaded with the sword, their heads to be set upon

poles, and there to continue during the pleasure of the duke; their

possessions, fiefs, and rights, of every description, to be confiscated

to the use of the crown.[1136] These sentences were signed only with the

name of Alva, and countersigned with that of the secretary Pratz.[1137]

Such was the result of these famous trials, which, from the peculiar

circumstances that attended them, especially their extraordinary

duration and the illustrious characters and rank of the accused, became

an object of general interest throughout Europe. In reviewing them, the

first question that occurs is in regard to the validity of the grounds

on which the causes were removed from the jurisdiction of the _Toison

d'Or_. The decision of the "men of authority and learning," referred to

by the king, is of little moment considering the influences under which

such a decision in the court of Madrid was necessarily given. The only

authority of any weight in favor of this interpretation seems to have

been that of the president Viglius; a man well versed in the law, with

the statutes of the order before him, and, in short, with every facility

at his command for forming an accurate judgment in the matter.

His opinion seems to have mainly rested on the fact that, in the year

1473, a knight of the order, charged with a capital crime, submitted to

be tried by the ordinary courts of law. But, on the other hand, some

years later, in 1490, four knights accused of treason, the precise crime

alleged against Egmont and Hoorne, were arraigned and tried before the

members of the _Toison_. A more conclusive argument against Viglius was

afforded by the fact, that in 1531 a law was passed, under the Emperor

Charles the Fifth, that no knight of the Golden Fleece could be arrested

or tried, for any offence whatever, by any other body than the members

of his own order. This statute was solemnly confirmed by Philip himself

in 1550; and no law, surely, could be devised covering more effectually

the whole ground in question. Yet Viglius had the effrontery to set this

aside as of no force, being so clearly in contempt of all precedents and

statutes. A subterfuge like this, which might justify the disregard of

any law whatever, found no favor with the members of the order. Arschot

and Barlaimont, in particular, the most devoted adherents of the crown,

and among the few knights of the _Toison_ then in Brussels, openly

expressed their dissent. The authority of a jurist like Viglius was of

great moment, however, to the duke, who did not fail to parade it.[1138]

But sorely was it to the disgrace of that timid and time-serving

councillor, that he could thus lend himself, and in such a cause, to

become the tool of arbitrary power. It may well lead us to give easier

faith than we should otherwise have done to those charges of peculation

and meanness which the regent, in the heat of party dissensions, so

liberally heaped on him.[1139]

But whatever may be thought of the rights possessed by the _Toison d'Or_

in this matter, there can be no doubt as to the illegality of the court

before which the cause was brought;--a court which had no warrant for

its existence but the will of Alva; where the judges, contrary to the

law of the land, were foreigners; where the presiding officer was not

even necessarily present at the trial of the causes on which he alone

was to pass sentence.

[Sidenote: THE PROCESSES REVIEWED.]

If so little regard was paid to the law in the composition of this

tribunal, scarcely more was shown to it in the forms of proceeding. On

the present occasion it does not appear that any evidence was brought

forward by the prisoners. And as we are in possession of only a small

part of that which sustained the prosecution, it is not easy to form an

opinion how far the parties were or were not guilty of the crime

imputed to them; still less whether that crime, according to the laws of

the land, amounted to treason.[1140] The gravest charge made, with any

apparent foundation, was that of a secret understanding with the

confederates. The avowed object of the confederates was, in certain

contingencies, to resist the execution of a particular ordinance;[1141]

but without any design to overturn the government. This, by our law,

could hardly be construed into treason. But in the Netherlands, in the

time of the Spanish rule, the law may have been more comprehensive in

its import; nor is it likely that the word "treason" was limited in so

explicit a manner as by the English statute-book under the

Plantagenets.[1142]

We have information of a curious document of the time, that may throw

light on the matter. Peter d'Arset, president of Artois, was one of the

original members of the Council of Troubles, but had retired from office

before the trial of the two lords. It may have been from the high

judicial station he held in one of Egmont's provinces, that he was

consulted in regard to that nobleman's process. After an examination of

the papers, he returned an answer, written in Latin, at great length,

and with a purity of style that shows him to have been a scholar. In

this, he goes over the whole ground of the accusation, article by

article, showing the insufficiency of proof on every charge, and by

argument and legal reference fully establishing the innocence of the

accused. The president's opinion, so independently given, we may readily

believe, found too little favor with the duke of Alva to be cited as

authority.[1143]

But even though it were true that the two lords, in that season of

public excitement, had been seduced from their allegiance for a time,

some charity might have been shown to men who had subsequently broken

with their former friends, and displayed the utmost zeal in carrying out

the measures of the government; a zeal in the case of Egmont, at least,

which drew from the regent unqualified commendation.[1144] Something

more might have been conceded to the man who had won for his sovereign

the most glorious trophies of his reign. But Philip's nature, unhappily,

as I have had occasion to notice, was of that sort which is more

sensible to injuries than to benefits.

Under the circumstances attending this trial, it may seem to have been a

waste of time to inquire into the legality of the court which tried the

cause, or the regularity of the forms of procedure. The real trial took

place, not in Flanders, but in Castile. Who can doubt that, long before

the duke of Alva began his march, the doom of the two nobles had been

pronounced in the cabinet of Madrid?[1145]

CHAPTER V.

EXECUTION OF EGMONT AND HOORNE.

The Counts removed to Brussels.--Informed of the Sentence.--Procession

to the Scaffold.--The Execution.--Character of Egmont.--Fate of his

Family.--Sentiment of the People.

1568.

On the second of June, 1568, a body of three thousand men was ordered to

Ghent to escort the Counts Egmont and Hoorne to Brussels. No resistance

was offered, although the presence of the Spaniards caused a great

sensation among the inhabitants of the place, who too well foreboded the

fate of their beloved lord.

[Sidenote: INFORMED OF THE SENTENCE.]

The nobles, each accompanied by two officers, were put into separate

chariots. They were guarded by twenty companies of pikemen and

arquebusiers; and a detachment of lancers, among whom was a body of the

duke's own horse, rode in the van, while another of equal strength

protected the rear. Under this strong escort they moved slowly towards

Brussels. One night they halted at Dendermonde, and towards evening, on

the fourth of the month, entered the capital.[1146] As the martial array

defiled through its streets, there was no one, however stout-hearted he

might be, says an eye-witness, who could behold the funeral pomp of the

procession, and listen to the strains of melancholy music, without a

feeling of sickness at his heart.[1147]

The prisoners were at once conducted to the _Brodhuys_, or

"Bread-House," usually known as the _Maison du Roi_,--that venerable

pile in the market-place of Brussels, still visited by every traveller

for its curious architecture, and yet more as the last resting-place of

the Flemish lords. Here they were lodged in separate rooms, small, dark,

and uncomfortable, and scantily provided with furniture. Nearly the

whole of the force which had escorted them to Brussels was established

in the great square, to defeat any attempt at a rescue. But none was

made; and the night passed away without disturbance, except what was

occasioned by the sound of busy workmen employed in constructing a

scaffold for the scene of execution on the following day.[1148]

On the afternoon of the fourth, the duke of Alva had sent for Martin

Rithovius, bishop of Ypres; and, communicating to him the sentence of

the nobles, he requested the prelate to visit the prisoners, acquaint

them with their fate, and prepare them for their execution on the

following day. The bishop, an excellent man, and the personal friend of

Egmont, was astounded by the tidings. He threw himself at Alva's feet,

imploring mercy for the prisoners, and, if he could not spare their

lives, beseeching him at least to grant them more time for preparation.

But Alva sternly rebuked the prelate, saying that he had been summoned,

not to thwart the execution of the law, but to console the prisoners,

and enable them to die like Christians.[1149] The bishop, finding his

entreaties useless, rose and addressed himself to his melancholy

mission.

It was near midnight when he entered Egmont's apartment, where he found

the poor nobleman, whose strength had been already reduced by

confinement, and who was wearied by the fatigue of the journey, buried

in slumber. It is said that the two lords, when summoned to Brussels,

had indulged the vain hope that it was to inform them of the conclusion

of their trial and their acquittal![1150] However this may be, Egmont

seems to have been but ill prepared for the dreadful tidings he

received. He turned deadly pale as he listened to the bishop, and

exclaimed, with deep emotion: "It is a terrible sentence. Little did I

imagine that any offence I had committed against God or the king could

merit such a punishment. It is not death that I fear. Death is the

common lot of all. But I shrink from dishonor. Yet I may hope that my

sufferings will so far expiate my offences, that my innocent family will

not be involved in my ruin by the confiscation of my property. Thus

much, at least, I think I may claim in consideration of my past

services." Then, after a pause, he added, "Since my death is the will of

God and his majesty, I will try to meet it with patience."[1151] He

asked the bishop if there were no hope. On being answered, "None

whatever," he resolved to devote himself at once to preparing for the

solemn change.

He rose from his couch, and hastily dressed himself. He then made his

confession to the prelate, and desired that mass might be said, and the

sacrament administered to him. This was done with great solemnity; and

Egmont received the communion in the most devout manner, manifesting the

greatest contrition for his sins. He next inquired of the bishop to what

prayer he could best have recourse to sustain him in this trying hour.

The prelate recommended to him that prayer which our Saviour had

commended to his disciples. The advice pleased the count, who earnestly

engaged in his devotions. But a host of tender recollections crowded on

his mind; and the images of his wife and children drew his thoughts in

another direction, till the kind expostulations of the prelate again

restored him to himself.

Egmont asked whether it would be well to say anything on the scaffold

for the edification of the people. But the bishop discouraged him,

saying that he would be imperfectly heard, and that the people, in their

present excitement, would be apt to misinterpret what he said to their

own prejudice.

Having attended to his spiritual concerns, Egmont called for writing

materials, and wrote a letter to his wife, whom he had not seen during

his long confinement; and to her he now bade a tender farewell. He then

addressed another letter, written in French, in a few brief and touching

sentences, to the king,--which fortunately has been preserved to us.

"This morning," he says, "I have been made acquainted with the sentence

which it has pleased your majesty to pass upon me. And although it has

never been my intent to do aught against the person or the service of

your majesty, or against our true, ancient, and Catholic faith, yet I

receive in patience what it has pleased God to send me.[1152] If during

these troubles I have counselled or permitted aught which might seem

otherwise, I have done so from a sincere regard for the service of God

and your majesty, and from what I believed the necessity of the times.

Wherefore I pray your majesty to pardon it, and for the sake of my past

services to take pity on my poor wife, my children, and my servants. In

this trust, I commend myself to the mercy of God." The letter is dated

Brussels, "on the point of death," June 5, 1568.[1153]

[Sidenote: PROCESSION TO THE SCAFFOLD.]

Having time still left, the count made a fair copy of the two letters,

and gave them to the bishop, entreating him to deliver them according to

their destination. He accompanied that to Philip with a ring, to be

given at the same time to the monarch.[1154] It was of great value; and

as it had been the gift of Philip himself during the count's late visit

to Madrid, it might soften the heart of the king by reminding him of

happier days, when he had looked with an eye of favor on his unhappy

vassal.

Having completed all his arrangements, Egmont became impatient for the

hour of his departure; and he expressed the hope that there would be no

unnecessary delay.[1155] At ten in the morning the soldiers appeared who

were to conduct him to the scaffold. They brought with them cords, as

usual, to bind the prisoner's hands. But Egmont remonstrated, and showed

that he had, himself, cut off the collar of his doublet and shirt, in

order to facilitate the stroke of the executioner. This he did to

convince them that he meditated no resistance; and on his promising that

he would attempt none, they consented to his remaining with his hands

unbound.

Egmont was dressed in a crimson damask robe, over which was a Spanish,

mantle fringed with gold. His breeches were of black silk; and his hat,

of the same material, was garnished with white and sable plumes.[1156]

In his hand, which, as we have seen, remained free, he held a white

handkerchief. On his way to the place of execution, he was accompanied

by Julian de Romero, _maître de camp_, by the captain, Salinas, who had

charge of the fortress of Ghent, and by the bishop of Ypres. As the

procession moved slowly forward, the count repeated some portion of the

fifty-first psalm,--"Have mercy on me, O God!"--in which the good

prelate joined with him. In the centre of the square, on the spot where

so much of the best blood of the Netherlands has been shed, stood the

scaffold, covered with black cloth. On it were two velvet cushions with

a small table, shrouded likewise in black, and supporting a silver

crucifix. At the corners of the platform were two poles, pointed at the

end with steel, intimating the purpose for which they were

intended.[1157]

In front of the scaffold was the provost of the court, mounted on

horseback and bearing the red wand of office in his hand.[1158] The

executioner remained, as usual, below the platform, screened from view,

that he might not, by his presence before it was necessary, outrage the

feelings of the prisoners.[1159] The troops, who had been under arms

all night, were drawn up around in order of battle; and strong bodies of

arquebusiers were posted in the great avenues which led to the square.

The space left open by the soldiery was speedily occupied by a crowd of

eager spectators. Others thronged the roofs and windows of the buildings

that surrounded the market-place, some of which, still standing at the

present day, show, by their quaint and venerable architecture, that they

must have looked down on the tragic scene we are now depicting.

It was indeed a gloomy day for Brussels,--so long the residence of the

two nobles, where their forms were as familiar, and where they were held

in as much love and honor as in any of their own provinces. All business

was suspended. The shops were closed. The bells tolled in all the

churches. An air of gloom, as of some impending calamity, settled on the

city. "It seemed," says one residing there at the time, "as if the day

of judgment were at hand!"[1160]

As the procession slowly passed through the ranks of the soldiers,

Egmont saluted the officers--some of them his ancient companions--with

such a sweet and dignified composure in his manner as was long

remembered by those who saw it. And few even of the Spaniards could

refrain from tears, as they took their last look at the gallant noble

who was to perish by so miserable an end.[1161]

With a steady step he mounted the scaffold, and, as he crossed it, gave

utterance to the vain wish, that, instead of meeting such a fate, he had

been allowed to die in the service of his king and country.[1162] He

quickly, however, turned to other thoughts, and, kneeling on one of the

cushions, with the bishop beside him on the other, he was soon engaged

earnestly in prayer. With his eyes raised towards Heaven with a look of

unutterable sadness,[1163] he prayed so fervently and loud as to be

distinctly heard by the spectators. The prelate, much affected, put into

his hands the silver crucifix, which Egmont repeatedly kissed; after

which, having received absolution for the last time, he rose and made a

sign to the bishop to retire. He then stripped off his mantle and robe;

and again kneeling, he drew a silk cap, which he had brought for the

purpose, over his eyes, and repeating the words, "Into thy hands, O

Lord, I commend my spirit," he calmly awaited the stroke of the

executioner.

[Sidenote: THEIR LAST MOMENTS.]

The low sounds of lamentation, which from time to time had been heard

among the populace, were now hushed into silence,[1164] as the minister

of justice appearing on the platform, approached his victim, and with a

single blow of the sword severed the head from the body. A cry of horror

rose from the multitude, and some frantic with grief, broke through the

ranks of the soldiers, and wildly dipped their handkerchiefs in the

blood that streamed from the scaffold, treasuring them up, says the

chronicler, as precious memorials of love and incitements to

vengeance.[1165]--The head was then set on one of the poles at the end

of the platform, while a mantle thrown over the mutilated trunk hid it

from the public gaze.[1166]

It was near noon, when orders were sent to lead forth the remaining

prisoner to execution. It had been assigned to the curate of La Chapelle

to acquaint Count Hoorne with his fate. That nobleman received the awful

tidings with less patience than was shown by his friend. He gave way to

a burst of indignation at the cruelty and injustice of the sentence. It

was a poor requital, he said, for eight and twenty years of faithful

services to his sovereign. Yet, he added, he was not sorry to be

released from a life of such incessant fatigue.[1167] For some time he

refused to confess, saying he had done enough in the way of

confession.[1168] When urged not to throw away the few precious moments

that were left to him, he at length consented.

The count was dressed in a plain suit of black, and wore a Milanese cap

upon his head. He was, at this time, about fifty years of age. He was

tall, with handsome features, and altogether of a commanding

presence.[1169] His form was erect, and as he passed with a steady step

through the files of soldiers, on his way to the place of execution, he

frankly saluted those of his acquaintance whom he saw among the

spectators. His look had in it less of sorrow than of indignation, like

that of one conscious of enduring wrong. He was spared one pang, in his

last hour, which had filled Egmont's cup with bitterness; though, like

him, he had a wife, he was to leave no orphan family to mourn him.

As he trod the scaffold, the apparatus of death seemed to have no power

to move him. He still repeated the declaration, that, "often as he had

offended his Maker, he had never, to his knowledge, committed any

offence against the king." When his eyes fell on the bloody shroud that

enveloped the remains of Egmont, he inquired if it were the body of his

friend. Being answered in the affirmative, he made some remark in

Castilian, not understood. He then prayed for a few moments, but in so

low a tone, that the words were not caught by the by-standers, and,

rising, he asked pardon of those around if he had ever offended any of

them, and earnestly besought their prayers. Then, without further delay,

he knelt down, and, repeating the words "_In manus tuas, Domine_," he

submitted himself to his fate.[1170]

His bloody head was set up opposite to that of his fellow-sufferer. For

three hours these ghastly trophies remained exposed to the gaze of the

multitude. They were then taken down, and, with the bodies, placed in

leaden coffins, which were straightway removed,--that containing the

remains of Egmont to the convent of Santa Clara, and that of Hoorne to

the ancient church of St. Gudule. To these places, especially to Santa

Clara, the people now flocked, as to the shrine of a martyr. They threw

themselves on the coffin, kissing it and bedewing it with their tears,

as if it had contained the relics of some murdered saint;[1171] while

many of them, taking little heed of the presence of informers, breathed

vows of vengeance; some even swearing not to trim either hair or beard

till these vows were executed.[1172] The government seems to have

thought it prudent to take no notice of this burst of popular feeling.

But a funeral hatchment, blazoned with the arms of Egmont, which, as

usual after the master's death, had been fixed by his domestics on the

gates of his mansion, was ordered to be instantly removed; no doubt, as

tending to keep alive the popular excitement.[1173] The bodies were not

allowed to remain long in their temporary places of deposit, but were

transported to the family residences of the two lords in the country,

and laid in the vaults of their ancestors.[1174]

Thus by the hand of the common executioner perished these two

unfortunate noblemen, who, by their rank, possessions, and personal

characters, were the most illustrious victims that could have been

selected in the Netherlands. Both had early enjoyed the favor of Charles

the Fifth, and both had been intrusted by Philip with some of the

highest offices in the state. Philip de Montmorency, Count Hoorne, the

elder of the two, came of the ancient house of Montmorency in France.

Besides filling the high post of Admiral of the Low Countries, he was

made governor of the provinces of Gueldres and Zutphen, was a councillor

of state, and was created by the emperor a knight of the Golden Fleece.

His fortune was greatly inferior to that of Count Egmont; yet its

confiscation afforded a supply by no means unwelcome to the needy

exchequer of the duke of Alva.

[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF EGMONT.]

However nearly on a footing they might be in many respects, Hoorne was

altogether eclipsed by his friend in military renown. Lamoral, Count

Egmont, inherited through his mother, the most beautiful woman of her

time,[1175] the title of prince of Gavre,--a place on the Scheldt, not

far from Ghent. He preferred, however, the more modest title of count of

Egmont, which came to him by the father's side, from ancestors who had

reigned over the duchy of Gueldres. The uncommon promise which he early

gave served, with his high position, to recommend him to the notice of

the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who, in 1544, honored by his presence

Egmont's nuptials with Sabina, countess-palatine of Bavaria. In 1546,

when scarcely twenty-four years of age, he was admitted to the order of

the Golden Fleece,--and, by a singular coincidence, on the same day on

which that dignity was bestowed on the man destined to become his mortal

foe, the duke of Alva.[1176] Philip, on his accession, raised him to the

dignity of a councillor of state, and made him governor of the important

provinces of Artois and Flanders.

But every other title to distinction faded away before that derived from

those two victories, which left the deepest stain on the French arms

that they had received since the defeat at Pavia. "I have seen," said

the French ambassador, who witnessed the execution of Egmont, "I have

seen the head of that man fall who twice caused France to

tremble."[1177]

Yet the fame won by his success was probably unfortunate for Egmont. For

this, the fruit of impetuous valor and of a brilliant _coup-de-main_,

was very different from the success of a long campaign, implying genius

and great military science in the commander. Yet the _éclat_ it gave was

enough to turn the head of a man less presumptuous than Egmont. It

placed him at once on the most conspicuous eminence in the country;

compelling him, in some sort, to take a position above his capacity to

maintain. When the troubles broke out, Egmont was found side by side

with Orange, in the van of the malecontents. He was urged to this rather

by generous sensibility to the wrongs of his countrymen, than by any

settled principle of action. Thus acting from impulse, he did not, like

William, calculate the consequences of his conduct. When those

consequences came, he was not prepared to meet them; he was like some

unskilful necromancer, who has neither the wit to lay the storm which he

has raised, nor the hardihood to brave it. He was acted on by contrary

influences. In opposition to the popular movement came his strong

feeling of loyalty, and his stronger devotion to the Roman Catholic

faith. His personal vanity coöperated with these; for Egmont was too

much of a courtier willingly to dispense with the smiles of royalty.

Thus the opposite forces by which he was impelled served to neutralize

each other. Instead of moving on a decided one of conduct, like his

friend, William of Orange, he appeared weak and vacillating. He

hesitated where he should have acted. And as the storm thickened, he

even retraced his steps, and threw himself on the mercy of the monarch

whom he had offended. William better understood the character of his

master,--and that of the minister who was to execute his decrees.[1178]

Still, with all his deficiencies, there was much both in the personal

qualities of Egmont and in his exploits to challenge admiration. "I knew

him," says Brantôme, "both in France and in Spain, and never did I meet

with a nobleman of higher breeding, or more gracious in his

manners."[1179] With an address so winning, a heart so generous, and

with so brilliant a reputation, it is not wonderful that Egmont should

have been the pride of his court and the idol of his countrymen. In

their idolatry they could not comprehend that Alva's persecution should

not have been prompted by a keener feeling than a sense of public duty

or obedience to his sovereign. They industriously sought in the earlier

history of the rival chiefs the motives for personal pique. On Alva's

first visit to the Netherlands, Egmont, then a young man, was said to

have won of him a considerable sum at play. The ill-will thus raised in

Alva's mind was heightened by Egmont's superiority over him at a

shooting-match, which the people, regarding as a sort of national

triumph, hailed with an exultation that greatly increased the

mortification of the duke.[1180] But what filled up the measure of his

jealousy was his rival's military renown; for the Fabian policy which

directed Alva's campaigns, however it established his claims to the

reputation of a great commander, was by no means favorable to those

brilliant feats of arms which have such attraction for the multitude. So

intense, indeed, was the feeling of hatred, it was said, in Alva's

bosom, that, on the day of his rival's execution, he posted himself

behind a lattice of the very building in which Egmont had been confined,

that he might feast his eyes with the sight of his mortal agony.[1181]

The friends of Alva give a very different view of his conduct. According

to them, an illness under which he labored, at the close of Egmont's

trial, was occasioned by his distress of mind at the task imposed on him

by the king. He had written more than once to the court of Castile, to

request some mitigation of Egmont's sentence, but was answered, that

"this would have been easy to grant, if the offence had been against the

king; but against the faith, it was impossible."[1182] It was even said

that the duke was so much moved, that he was seen to shed tears as big

as peas on the day of the execution![1183]

[Sidenote: CONDUCT OF ALVA.]

I must confess, I have never seen any account that would warrant a

belief in the report that Alva witnessed in person the execution of his

prisoners. Nor, on the other hand, have I met with any letter of his

deprecating the severity of their sentence, or advising a mitigation of

their punishment. This, indeed, would be directly opposed to his policy,

openly avowed. The reader may, perhaps, recall the homely simile by

which he recommended to the queen-mother, at Bayonne, to strike at the

great nobles in preference to the commoners. "One salmon," he said, "was

worth ten thousand frogs."[1184] Soon after Egmont's arrest, some of the

burghers of Brussels waited on him to ask why it had been made. The duke

bluntly told them, "When he had got together his troops, he would let

them know."[1185] Everything shows that, in his method of proceeding in

regard to the two lords, he had acted on a preconcerted plan, in the

arrangement of which he had taken his full part. In a letter to Philip,

written soon after the execution, he speaks with complacency of having

carried out the royal views in respect to the great offenders.[1186] In

another, he notices the sensation caused by the death of Egmont; and

"the greater the sensation," he adds, "the greater will be the benefit

to be derived from it."[1187]--There is little in all this of

compunction for the act, or of compassion for its victims.

The truth seems to be, that Alva was a man of an arrogant nature, an

inflexible will, and of the most narrow and limited views. His doctrine

of implicit obedience went as far as that of Philip himself. In

enforcing it, he disdained the milder methods of argument or

conciliation. It was on force, brute force alone, that he relied. He was

bred a soldier, early accustomed to the stern discipline of the camp.

The only law he recognized was martial law; his only argument, the

sword. No agent could have been fitter to execute the designs of a

despotic prince. His hard, impassible nature was not to be influenced by

those affections which sometimes turn the most obdurate from their

purpose. As little did he know of fear; nor could danger deter him from

carrying out his work. The hatred he excited in the Netherlands was

such, that, as he was warned, it was not safe for him to go out after

dark. Placards were posted up in Brussels menacing his life if he

persisted in the prosecution of Egmont.[1188] He held such menaces as

light as he did the entreaties of the countess, or the arguments of her

counsel. Far from being moved by personal considerations, no power could

turn him from that narrow path which he professed to regard as the path

of duty. He went surely, though it might be slowly, towards the mark,

crushing by his iron will every obstacle that lay in his track. We

shudder at the contemplation of such a character, relieved by scarcely a

single touch of humanity. Yet we must admit there is something which

challenges our admiration in the stern, uncompromising manner, without

fear or favor, with which a man of this indomitable temper carries his

plans into execution.

It would not be fair to omit, in this connection, some passages from

Alva's correspondence, which suggest the idea that he was not wholly

insensible to feelings of compassion,--when they did not interfere with

the performance of his task. In a letter to the king, dated the ninth of

June, four days only after the death of the two nobles, the duke says:

"Your majesty will understand the regret I feel at seeing these poor

lords brought to such an end, and myself obliged to bring them to

it.[1189] But I have not shrunk from doing what is for your majesty's

service. Indeed, they and their accomplices have been the cause of very

great present evil, and one which will endanger the souls of many for

years to come. The Countess Egmont's condition fills me with the

greatest pity, burdened as she is with a family of eleven children, none

old enough to take care of themselves;--and she too a lady of so

distinguished rank, sister of the count-palatine, and of so virtuous,

truly Catholic, and exemplary life.[1190] There is no man in the country

who does not grieve for her! I cannot but commend her," he concludes,

"as I do now, very humbly, to the good grace of your majesty, beseeching

you to call to mind that if the count, her husband, came to trouble at

the close of his days, he formerly rendered great service to the

state."[1191] The reflection, it must be owned, came somewhat late.

In another letter to Philip, though of the same date, Alva recommends

the king to summon the countess and her children to Spain; where her

daughters might take the veil, and her sons be properly educated. "I do

not believe," he adds, "that there is so unfortunate a family in the

whole world. I am not sure that the countess has the means of procuring

a supper this very evening!"[1192]

Philip, in answer to these letters, showed that he was not disposed to

shrink from his own share of responsibility for the proceedings of his

general. The duke, he said, had only done what justice and his duty

demanded.[1193] He could have wished that the state of things had

warranted a different result; nor could he help feeling deeply that

measures like those to which he had been forced should have been

necessary in his reign. "But," continued the king, "no man has a right

to shrink from his duty.[1194]--I am well pleased," he concludes, "to

learn that the two lords made so good and Catholic an end. As to what

you recommend in regard to the countess of Egmont and her eleven

children, I shall give all proper heed to it."[1195]

[Sidenote: FATE OF EGMONT'S FAMILY.]

The condition of the countess might well have moved the hardest heart

to pity. Denied all access to her husband, she had been unable to

afford him that consolation which he so much needed during his long and

dreary confinement. Yet she had not been idle; and, as we have seen, she

was unwearied in her efforts to excite a sympathy in his behalf. Neither

did she rely only on the aid which this world can give; and few nights

passed during her lord's imprisonment in which she and her daughters

might not be seen making their pious pilgrimages, barefooted, to the

different churches of Brussels, to invoke the blessing of Heaven on

their labors. She had been supported through this trying time by a

reliance on the success of her endeavors, in which she was confirmed by

the encouragement she received from the highest quarters. It is not

necessary to give credit to the report of a brutal jest attributed to

the duke of Alva, who, on the day preceding the execution, was said to

have told the countess "to be of good cheer; for her husband would leave

the prison on the morrow!"[1196] There is more reason to believe that

the Emperor Maximilian, shortly before the close of the trial, sent a

gentleman with a kind letter to the countess, testifying the interest he

took in her affairs, and assuring her she had nothing to fear on account

of her husband.[1197] On the very morning of Egmont's execution, she was

herself, we are told, paying a visit of condolence to the countess of

Aremberg, whose husband had lately fallen in the battle of Heyligerlee;

and at her friend's house the poor lady is said to have received the

first tidings of the fate of her lord.[1198]

The blow fell the heavier, that she was so ill prepared for it. On the

same day she found herself, not only a widow, but a beggar,--with a

family of orphan children in vain looking up to her for the common

necessaries of life.[1199] In her extremity, she resolved to apply to

the king himself. She found an apology for it in the necessity of

transmitting to Philip her husband's letter to him, which, it seems, had

been intrusted to her care.[1200] She apologizes for not sooner sending

this last and most humble petition of her deceased lord, by the extreme

wretchedness of her situation, abandoned, as she is, by all, far from

kindred and country.[1201] She trusts in his majesty's benignity and

compassion[1202] to aid her sons by receiving them into his service when

they shall be of sufficient age. This will oblige her, during the

remainder of her sad days, and her children after her, to pray God for

the long and happy life of his majesty.[1203]--It must have given

another pang to the heart of the widowed countess, to have been thus

forced to solicit aid from the very hand that had smitten her. But it

was the mother pleading for her children.

Yet Philip, notwithstanding his assurances to the duke of Alva, showed

no alacrity in relieving the wants of the countess. On the first of

September the duke again wrote, to urge the necessity of her case,

declaring that, if it had not been for a "small sum that he had himself

sent, she and the children would have perished of hunger!"[1204]

The misfortunes of this noble lady excited commiseration not only at

home, but in other countries of Europe, and especially in Germany, the

land of her birth.[1205] Her brother, the elector of Bavaria, wrote to

Philip, to urge the restitution of her husband's estates to his family.

Other German princes preferred the same request, which was moreover

formally made by the emperor, through his ambassador at Madrid. Philip

coolly replied, that "the time for this had not yet come."[1206] A

moderate pension, meanwhile, was annually paid by Alva to the countess

of Egmont, who survived her husband ten years,--not long enough to see

her children established in possession of their patrimony.[1207] Shortly

before her death, her eldest son, then grown to man's estate, chafing

under the sense of injustice to himself and his family, took part in the

war against the Spaniards. Philip, who may perhaps have felt some

compunction for the ungenerous requital he had made for the father's

services, not only forgave this act of disloyalty in the son, but three

years later allowed the young man to resume his allegiance, and placed

him in full possession of the honors and estates of his ancestors.[1208]

Alva, as we have seen, in his letters to Philip, had dwelt on the

important effects of Egmont's execution. He did not exaggerate these

effects. But he sorely mistook the nature of them. Abroad, the elector

of Bavaria at once threw his whole weight into the scale of Orange and

the party of reform.[1209] Others of the German princes followed his

example; and Maximilian's ambassador at Madrid informed Philip that the

execution of the two nobles, by the indignation it had caused throughout

Germany, had wonderfully served the designs of the prince of

Orange.[1210]

[Sidenote: SENTIMENT OF THE PEOPLE.]

At home the effects were not less striking. The death of these two

illustrious men, following so close upon the preceding executions,

spread a deep gloom over the country. Men became possessed with the idea

that the reign of blood was to be perpetual.[1211] All confidence was

destroyed, even that confidence which naturally exists between parent

and child, between brother and brother.[1212] The foreign merchant

caught somewhat of this general distrust, and refused to send his

commodities to a country where they were exposed to confiscation.[1213]

Yet among the inhabitants indignation was greater than even fear or

sorrow;[1214] and the Flemings who had taken part in the prosecution of

Egmont trembled before the wrath of an avenging people.[1215] Such were

the effects produced by the execution of men whom the nation reverenced

as martyrs in the cause of freedom. Alva notices these consequences in

his letters to the king. But though he could discern the signs of the

times, he little dreamed of the extent of the troubles they portended.

"The people of this country," he writes, "are of so easy a temper, that,

when your majesty shall think fit to grant them a general pardon, your

clemency, I trust, will make them as prompt to render you their

obedience as they are now reluctant to do it."[1216]--The haughty

soldier, in his contempt for the peaceful habits of a burgher

population, comprehended as little as his master the true character of

the men of the Netherlands.

CHAPTER VI.

SECRET EXECUTION OF MONTIGNY.

Bergen and Montigny.--Their Situation in Spain.--Death of

Bergen.--Arrest of Montigny.--Plot for his Escape.--His

Process.--Removal to Simancas.--Closer Confinement.--Midnight Execution.

1567-1570.

Before bidding a long adieu to the Netherlands, it will be well to lay

before the reader an account of a transaction which has proved a

fruitful theme of speculation to the historian, but which, until the

present time, has been shrouded in impenetrable mystery.

It may be remembered that, in the year 1566, two noble Flemings, the

marquis of Bergen and the baron of Montigny, were sent on a mission to

the court of Madrid, to lay before the king the critical state of

affairs, imperatively demanding some change in the policy of the

government. The two lords went on the mission; but they never returned.

Many conjectures were made respecting their fate; and historians have

concluded that Bergen possibly,[1217] and certainly Montigny, came to

their end by violence.[1218] But, in the want of evidence, it was only

conjecture, while the greatest discrepancy has prevailed in regard to

details. It is not till very recently that the veil has been withdrawn

through the access that has been given to the Archives of Simancas, that

dread repository, in which the secrets of the Castilian kings have been

buried for ages. Independently of the interest attaching to the

circumstances of the present narrative, it is of great importance for

the light it throws on the dark, unscrupulous policy of Philip the

Second. It has, moreover, the merit of resting on the most authentic

grounds of the correspondence of the king and his ministers.

[Sidenote: BERGEN AND MONTIGNY.]

Both envoys were men of the highest consideration. The marquis of

Bergen, by his rank and fortune, was in the first class of the Flemish

aristocracy.[1219] Montigny was of the ancient house of the

Montmorencys, being a younger brother of the unfortunate Count Hoorne.

At the time of Charles the Fifth's abdication he had the honor of being

selected by the emperor as one of those Flemish nobles who were to

escort him to his monastic residence in Spain. He occupied several

important posts,--among others, that of governor of Tournay,--and, like

Bergen, was a knight of the Golden Fleece. In the political disturbances

of the time, although not placed in the front of disaffection, the two

lords had taken part with the discontented faction, had joined in the

war upon Granvelle, and had very generally disapproved of the policy of

the crown. They had, especially, raised their voices against the system

of religious persecution, with a manly independence which had secured

for them--it seems undeservedly--the reputation of being the advocates

of religious reform. This was particularly the case with Bergen, who, to

one that asked how heretics should be dealt with, replied, "If they were

willing to be converted, I would not trouble them. If they refused,

still I would not take their lives, as they might hereafter be

converted." This saying, duly reported to the ears of Philip, was

doubtless treasured up against the man who had the courage to utter

it.[1220]

The purpose of their embassy was to urge on the king the necessity of a

more liberal and lenient policy, to which Margaret, who had not yet

broken with the nobles, was herself inclined. It was not strange that

the two lords should have felt the utmost reluctance to undertake a

mission which was to bring them so directly within the power of the

monarch whom they knew they had offended, and who, as they also knew,

was not apt to forgive an offence. True, Egmont had gone on a similar

mission to Madrid, and returned uninjured to Brussels. But it was at an

earlier period, when the aspect of things was not so dangerous. His time

had not yet come.

It was not till after much delay that the other nobles, with the regent,

prevailed on Bergen and Montigny to accept the trust, by urging on them

its absolute importance for assuring the tranquillity of the country.

Even then, an injury which confined the marquis some weeks to his house

furnished him with a plausible excuse for not performing his engagement,

of which he would gladly have availed himself. But his scruples again

vanished before the arguments and entreaties of his friends; and he

consented to follow, as he could not accompany, Montigny.

The latter reached Madrid towards the middle of June, 1566, was

graciously received by the king, and was admitted to repeated audiences,

at which he did not fail to urge the remedial measures countenanced by

Margaret. Philip appeared to listen with complacency; but declined

giving an answer till the arrival of the other ambassador, who, having

already set out on his journey, was attacked, on his way through France,

by a fever. There Bergen halted, and again thought of abandoning the

expedition. His good genius seemed ever willing to interpose to save

him. But his evil genius, in the shape of Philip, who wrote to him, in

the most condescending terms, to hasten his journey, beckoned him to

Madrid.[1221]

Besides the two envoys there was another person of consequence from the

Low Countries at that time in the capital,--Simon Renard, once Charles's

minister at the English court, the inexorable foe of Granvelle. He had

been persuaded by Philip to come to Spain, although to do so, he knew,

was to put himself on trial for his manifold offences against the

government. He was arrested; proceedings were commenced against him; and

he was released only by an illness which terminated in his death. There

seems to have been a mysterious fascination possessed by Philip, that he

could thus draw within his reach the very men whom every motive of

self-preservation should have kept at an immeasurable distance.

The arrival of the marquis did not expedite the business of the mission.

Unfortunately, about that period news came to Madrid of the outbreak of

the iconoclasts, exciting not merely in Spain, but throughout

Christendom, feelings of horror and indignation. There was no longer a

question as to a more temperate policy. The only thought now was of

vengeance. It was in vain that the Flemish envoys interposed to mitigate

the king's anger, and turn him from those violent measures which must

bring ruin on the country. Their remonstrances were unheeded. They found

access to his person by no means so easy a thing as before. They felt

that somewhat of the odium of the late transactions attached to them.

Even the courtiers, with the ready instinct that detects a sovereign's

frown, grew cold in their deportment. The situation of the envoys became

every day more uncomfortable. Their mission was obviously at an end, and

all they now asked was leave to return to the Netherlands.

But the king had no mind to grant it. He had been long since advised by

Granvelle, and others in whom he trusted, that both the nobles had taken

a decided part in fostering the troubles of the country.[1222] To that

country they were never to return. Philip told them he had need of their

presence for some time longer, to advise with him on the critical state

of affairs in Flanders. So thin a veil could not impose on them, and

they were idled with the most serious apprehensions. They wrote to

Margaret, begging her to request the king to dismiss them; otherwise

they should have good cause to complain both of her and of the nobles,

who had sent them on a mission from which they would gladly have been

excused.[1223] But Margaret had already written to her brother to keep

them in Spain until the troubles in Flanders should be ended.[1224] On

the reception of the letter of her envoys, however, she replied that she

had already written to the king to request leave for them to

return.[1225] I have found no record of such a letter.

In the spring of 1567, the duke of Alva was sent to take command of the

Netherlands. Such an appointment, at such a crisis, plainly intimated

the course to be pursued, and the host of evils it would soon bring on

the devoted country. The conviction of this was too much for Bergen,

heightened as his distress was by his separation, at such a moment, from

all that was most dear to him on earth. He fell ill of a fever, and grew

rapidly worse, till at length, it was reported to Philip that there was

no chance for his recovery unless he were allowed to return to his

native land.[1226]

[Sidenote: DEATH OF BERGEN.]

This placed the king in a perplexing dilemma. He was not disposed to let

the marquis escape from his hands even by the way of a natural death. He

was still less inclined to assent to his return to Flanders. In this

emergency he directed Ruy Gomez, the prince of Eboli, to visit the sick

nobleman, who was his personal friend. In case Gomez found the marquis

so ill that his recovery was next to impossible, he was to give him the

king's permission to return home. If, however, there seemed a prospect

of his recovery, he was only to hold out the hope of such a

permission.[1227] In case of the sick man's death, Gomez was to take

care to have his obsequies performed in such a manner as to show the

sorrow of the king and his ministers at his loss, and their respect for

the lords of the Low Countries![1228] He was, moreover, in that event,

to take means to have the marquis's property in the Netherlands

sequestered, as, should rebellion be proved against him, it would be

forfeited to the crown.--This curious, and, as it must be allowed,

highly confidential epistle, was written with the king's own hand. The

address ran, "Ruy Gomez--to his hands. Not to be opened nor read in the

presence of the bearer."

Which part of the royal instruction the minister thought best to follow

for the cure of the patient,--whether he gave him an unconditional

permission to return, or only held out the hope that he would do so,--we

are not informed. It matters little, however. The marquis, it is

probable, had already learned not to put his trust in princes. At all

events, the promises of the king did as little for the patient as the

prescriptions of the doctor. On the twenty-first of May he

died,--justifying the melancholy presentiment with which he had entered

on his mission.

Montigny was the only victim that now remained to Philip; and he caused

him to be guarded with redoubled vigilance. He directed Ruy Gomez to

keep an eye on all his movements, and to write to the governors of

Navarre, Catalonia, and other frontier places, to take precautions to

intercept the Flemish lord, in case of his attempting to fly the

country.[1229] Montigny was in fact a prisoner, with Madrid for the

limits of his prison. Yet, after this, the regent could write to him

from Brussels, that she was pleased to learn from her brother that he

was soon to give him his _congé_.[1230]--If the king said this, he had a

bitter meaning in his words, beyond what the duchess apprehended.

It was not long, however, that Montigny was allowed to retain even this

degree of liberty. In September, 1567, arrived the tidings of the arrest

of the Counts Egmont and Hoorne. Orders were instantly issued for the

arrest of Montigny. He was seized by a detachment of the royal guard,

and borne off to the alcazar of Segovia.[1231] He was not to be allowed

to leave the fortress day or night; but as much indulgence was shown to

him as was compatible with this strict confinement; and he was permitted

to take with him the various retainers who composed his household, and

to maintain his establishment in prison. But what indulgence could

soften the bitterness of a captivity far from kindred and country, with

the consciousness, moreover, that the only avenue from his prison

conducted to the scaffold!

In his extremity, Montigny looked around for the means of effecting his

own escape; and he nearly succeeded. One, if not more, of the Spaniards

on guard, together with his own servants, were in the plot. It was

arranged that the prisoner should file through the bars of a window in

his apartment, and lower himself to the ground by means of a rope

ladder. Relays of horses were provided to take him rapidly on to the

seaport of Santander, in the north, whence he was to be transported in a

shallop to St. Jean de Luz. The materials for executing his part of the

work were conveyed to Montigny in the loaves of bread daily sent to him

by his baker. Everything seemed to promise success. The bars of the

window were removed.[1232] They waited only for a day when the alcayde

of the castle would not be likely to visit it. At this juncture the plot

was discovered through the carelessness of the _maître d'hôtel_.

This person neglected to send one of the loaves to his master, which

contained a paper giving sundry directions respecting the mode of

escape, and mentioning the names of several of the parties. The loaf

fell into the hands of a soldier.[1233] On breaking it, the paper was

discovered, and taken by him to the captain of the guard. The plot was

laid open; the parties were arrested, and sentenced to death or the

galleys. The king allowed the sentence to take effect in regard to the

Spaniards. He granted a reprieve to the Flemings, saying that what they

had done was in some sort excusable, as being for the service of their

master. Besides, they might be of use hereafter, in furnishing testimony

in the prosecution of Montigny.[1234] On this compound principle their

lives were spared. After languishing some time in prison, they were

allowed to return to the Low Countries, bearing with them letters from

Montigny, requesting his friends to provide for them in consideration of

their sacrifices for him. But they were provided for in a much more

summary manner by Alva, who, on their landing, caused them to be

immediately arrested, and banished them all from the country, under pain

of death if they returned to it![1235]

The greatest sympathy was felt for Montigny in the Netherlands, where

the nobles were filled with indignation at the unworthy treatment their

envoy had received from Philip. His step-mother, the dowager-countess of

Hoorne, was as untiring in her efforts for him as she had been for his

unfortunate brother. These were warmly seconded by his wife, a daughter

of the prince of Epinoy, to whom Montigny had been married but a short

time before his mission to Spain. This lady wrote a letter in the most

humble tone of supplication to Philip. She touched on the blight brought

on her domestic happiness, spoke with a strong conviction of the

innocence of Montigny, and with tears and lamentations implored the

king, by the consideration of his past services, by the passion of the

blessed Saviour, to show mercy to her husband.[1236]

[Sidenote: HIS PROCESS.]

Several months elapsed, after the execution of the Counts Egmont and

Hoorne, before the duke commenced proceedings against Montigny; and it

was not till February, 1569, that the licentiate Salazar, one of the

royal council, was sent to Segovia in order to interrogate the prisoner.

The charges were of the same nature with those brought against Egmont

and Hoorne. Montigny at first, like them, refused to make any

reply,--standing on his rights as a member of the Golden Fleece. He was,

however, after a formal protest, prevailed on to waive this privilege.

The examination continued several days. The various documents connected

with it are still preserved in the Archives of Simancas. M. Gachard has

given no abstract of their contents. But that sagacious inquirer, after

a careful perusal of the papers, pronounces Montigny's answers to be "a

victorious refutation of the charges of the attorney-general."[1237]

It was not a refutation that Philip or his viceroy wanted. Montigny was

instantly required to appoint some one to act as counsel in his behalf.

But no one was willing to undertake the business, till a person of

little note at length consented, or was rather compelled to undertake it

by the menaces of Alva.[1238] Any man might well have felt a

disinclination for an office which must expose him to the ill-will of

the government, with little chance of benefit to his client.

Even after this, Montigny was allowed to languish another year in prison

before sentence was passed on him by his judges. The proceedings of the

Council of Blood on this occasion were marked by a more flagitious

contempt of justice, if possible, than its proceedings usually were. The

duke, in a letter of the eighteenth of March, 1570, informed the king of

the particulars of the trial. He had submitted the case, not to the

whole court, but to a certain number of the councillors, _selected by

him for the purpose_.[1239] He does not tell on what principle the

selection was made. Philip could readily divine it. In the judgment of

the majority, Montigny was found guilty of high treason. The duke

accordingly passed sentence of death on him. The sentence was dated

March 4, 1570. It was precisely of the same import with the sentences of

Egmont and Hoorne. It commanded that Montigny be taken from prison, and

publicly beheaded with a sword. His head was to be stuck on a pole,

there to remain during the pleasure of his majesty. His goods and

estates were to be confiscated to the crown.[1240]

The sentence was not communicated even to the Council of Blood. The only

persons aware of its existence were the duke's secretary and his two

trusty councillors, Vargas and Del Rio. Alva had kept it thus secret

until he should learn the will of his master.[1241] At the same time he

intimated to Philip that he might think it better to have the execution

take place in Castile, as under existing circumstances more eligible

than the Netherlands.

Philip was in Andalusia, making a tour in the southern provinces, when

the despatches of his viceroy reached him. He was not altogether pleased

with their tenor. Not that he had any misgivings in regard to the

sentence; for he was entirely satisfied, as he wrote to Alva, of

Montigny's guilt.[1242] But he did not approve of a public execution.

Enough blood, it might be thought in the Netherlands, had been already

spilt; and men there might complain that, shut up in a foreign prison

during his trial, Montigny had not met with justice.[1243] There were

certainly some grounds for such a complaint.

Philip resolved to defer taking any decisive step in the matter till his

return to the north. Meanwhile he commended Alva's discretion in keeping

the sentence secret, and charged him on no account to divulge it, even

to members of the council.

Some months elapsed after the king's return to Madrid before he came to

a decision,--exhibiting the procrastination, so conspicuous a trait in

him, even among a people with whom procrastination was no miracle. It

may have been that he was too much occupied with an interesting affair

which pressed on him at that moment. About two years before, Philip had

had the misfortune to lose his young and beautiful queen, Isabella of

the Peace. Her place was now to be supplied by a German princess, Anne

of Austria, his fourth wife, still younger than the one he had lost. She

was already on her way to Castile; and the king may have been too much

engrossed by his preparations for the nuptial festivities, to have much

thought to bestow on the concerns of his wretched prisoner.

The problem to be solved was how to carry the sentence into effect, and

yet leave the impression on the public that Montigny died a natural

death. Most of the few ministers whom the king took into his confidence

on the occasion were of opinion that it would be best to bring the

prisoner's death about by means of a slow poison administered in his

drink, or some article of his daily food. This would give him time,

moreover, to provide for the concerns of his soul.[1244] But Philip

objected to this, as not fulfilling what he was pleased to call the ends

of justice.[1245] He at last decided on the _garrote_,--the form of

execution used for the meaner sort of criminals in Spain, but which,

producing death by suffocation, would be less likely to leave its traces

on the body.[1246]

[Sidenote: CLOSER CONFINEMENT.]

To accomplish this, it would be necessary to remove Montigny from the

town of Segovia, the gay residence of the court, and soon to be the

scene of the wedding ceremonies, to some more remote and less frequented

spot. Simancas was accordingly selected, whose stern, secluded fortress

seemed to be a fitting place for the perpetration of such a deed. The

fortress was of great strength, and was encompassed by massive walls,

and a wide moat, across which two bridges gave access to the interior.

It was anciently used as a prison for state criminals. Cardinal Ximenes

first conceived the idea of turning it to the nobler purpose of

preserving the public archives.[1247] Charles the Fifth carried this

enlightened project into execution; but it was not fully consummated

till the time of Philip, who prescribed the regulations, and made all

the necessary arrangements for placing the institution on a permanent

basis,--thus securing to future historians the best means for guiding

their steps through the dark and tortuous passages of his reign. But

even after this change in its destination, the fortress of Simancas

continued to be used occasionally as a place of confinement for

prisoners of state. The famous bishop of Zamora, who took so active a

part in the war of the _comunidades_, was there strangled by command of

Charles the Fifth. The quarter of the building in which he suffered is

still known by the name of "_el cubo del obispo_,"--"The Bishop's

Tower."[1248]

To this strong place Montigny was removed from Segovia, on the

nineteenth of August, 1570, under a numerous guard of alguazils and

arquebusiers. For greater security he was put in irons,--a superfluous

piece of cruelty, from which Philip, in a letter to Alva, thought it

necessary to vindicate himself, as having been done without his

orders.[1249] We might well imagine that the last ray of hope must have

faded away in Montigny's bosom, as he entered the gloomy portals of his

new abode. Yet hope, as we are assured, did not altogether desert him.

He had learned that Anne of Austria had expressed much sympathy for his

sufferings. It was but natural that the daughter of the emperor

Maximilian should take an interest in the persecuted people of the

Netherlands. It was even said that she promised the wife and step-mother

of Montigny to make his liberation the first boon she would ask of her

husband on coming to Castile.[1250] And Montigny cherished the fond hope

that the influence of the young bride would turn the king from his

purpose, and that her coming to Castile would be the signal for his

liberation. That Anne should have yielded to such an illusion is not so

strange, for she had never seen Philip; but that Montigny should have

been beguiled by it is more difficult to understand.

In his new quarters he was treated with a show of respect, if not

indulgence. He was even allowed some privileges. Though the guards were

doubled over him, he was permitted to have his own servants, and, when

it suited him, to take the fresh air and sunshine in the corridor.

Early in October the young Austrian princess landed on the northern

shores of the kingdom, at Santander. The tidings of this may have

induced the king to quicken his movements in regard to his prisoner,

willing perhaps to relieve himself of all chance of importunity from his

bride, as well as from the awkwardness of refusing the first favor she

should request. As a preliminary step, it would be necessary to abridge

the liberty which Montigny at present enjoyed, to confine him to his

apartment, and cutting off his communications even with those in the

castle, to spread the rumor of his illness, which should prepare the

minds of the public for a fatal issue.

To furnish an apology for his close confinement, a story was got up of

an attempt to escape, similar to what had actually occurred at Segovia.

Peralta, alcayde of the fortress, a trustworthy vassal, to whom was

committed the direction of the affair, addressed a letter to the king,

inclosing a note in Latin, which he pretended had been found under

Montigny's window, containing sundry directions for his flight. The fact

of such a design, the writer said, was corroborated by the appearance of

certain persons in the disguise of friars about the castle. The

governor, in consequence, had been obliged to remove his prisoner to

other quarters, of greater security. He was accordingly lodged in the

Bishop's Tower,--ominous quarters!--where he was no longer allowed the

attendance of his own domestics, but placed in strict confinement.

Montigny had taken this proceeding so ill, and with such vehement

complaints of its injustice, that it had brought on a fever, under which

he was now laboring. Peralta concluded by expressing his regret at being

forced by Montigny's conduct into a course so painful to himself, as he

would gladly have allowed him all the indulgence compatible with his own

honor.[1251]--This letter, which had all been concocted in the cabinet

at Madrid, was shown openly at court. It gained easier credit from the

fact of Montigny's former attempt to escape; and the rumor went abroad

that he was now lying dangerously ill.

Early in October, the licentiate Alonzo de Arellano had been summoned

from Seville, and installed in the office of alcalde of the chancery of

Valladolid, distant only two leagues from Simancas. Arellano was a

person in whose discretion and devotion to himself Philip knew he could

confide; and to him he now intrusted the execution of Montigny.

Directions for the course he was to take, as well as the precautions he

was to use to prevent suspicion, were set down in the royal instructions

with great minuteness. They must be allowed to form a remarkable

document, such as has rarely proceeded from a royal pen. The alcalde was

to pass to Simancas, and take with him a notary, an executioner, and a

priest. The last should be a man of undoubted piety and learning,

capable of dispelling any doubts or errors that might unhappily have

arisen in Montigny's mind in respect to the faith. Such a man appeared

to be Fray Hernando del Castillo, of the order of St. Dominic, in

Valladolid; and no better person could have been chosen, nor one more

open to those feelings of humanity which are not always found under the

robe of the friar.[1252]

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

Attended by these three persons, the alcalde left Valladolid soon after

nightfall on the evening of the fourteenth of October. Peralta had been

advised of his coming; and the little company were admitted into the

castle so cautiously as to attract no observation. The governor and the

judge at once proceeded to Montigny's apartment, where they found the

unhappy man lying on his pallet, ill not so much of the fever that was

talked of, as of that sickness of the heart which springs from hope

deferred. When informed of his sentence by Arellano, in words as kind as

so cruel a communication would permit, he was wholly overcome by it, and

for some time continued in a state of pitiable agitation. Yet one might

have thought that the warnings he had already received were such as

might have prepared his mind in some degree for the blow. For he seems

to have been in the condition of the tenant of one of those

inquisitorial cells in Venice, the walls of which, we are told, were so

constructed as to approach each other gradually every day, until the

wretched inmate was crushed between them. After Montigny had

sufficiently recovered from his agitation to give heed to it, the

sentence was read to him by the notary. He was still to be allowed a

day before the execution, in order to gain time, as Philip had said, to

settle his affairs with Heaven. And although, as the alcalde added, the

sentence passed on him was held by the king as a just sentence, yet, in

consideration of his quality, his majesty, purely out of his benignity

and clemency, was willing so far to mitigate it, in regard to the form,

as to allow him to be executed, not in public, but in secret, thus

saving his honor, and suggesting the idea of his having come to his end

by a natural death.[1253] For this act of grace Montigny seems to have

been duly grateful. How true were the motives assigned for it, the

reader can determine.