fortunes of that son, the ill-starred Seigneur de Montigny. His mission
to Madrid in company of the Marquis Berghen has been related in a
previous volume. The last and most melancholy scene in the life of his
fellow envoy has been described in a recent chapter. After that ominous
event, Montigny became most anxious to effect his retreat from Spain.
He had been separated more than a year from his few months' bride.
He was not imprisoned, but he felt himself under the most rigid although
secret inspection. It was utterly impossible for him to obtain leave to
return, or to take his departure without permission. On one occasion,
having left the city accidentally for a ride on horseback to an adjoining
village, he found himself surrounded by an unexpected escort of forty
troopers. Still, however, the King retained a smiling mien. To
Montigny's repeated and urgent requests for dismissal, Philip graciously
urged his desire for a continuance of his visit. He was requested to
remain in order to accompany his sovereign upon that journey to the
Netherlands which would not be much longer delayed. In his impatience
anything seemed preferable to the state of suspense in which he was made
to linger. He eagerly offered, if he were accused or suspected of crime,
to surrender himself to imprisonment if he only could be brought to
trial. Soon after Alva's arrival in the Netherlands, the first part of
this offer was accepted. No sooner were the arrests of Egmont and Horn
known in Madrid, than Montigny was deprived of his liberty, and closely
confined in the alcazar of Segovia. Here he remained imprisoned for
eight or nine months in a high tower, with no attendant save a young
page, Arthur de Munter, who had accompanied him from the Netherlands.
Eight men-at-arms were expressly employed to watch over him and to
prevent his escape.
One day towards the middle of July, 1568, a band of pilgrims, some of
them in Flemish attire, went through the streets of Segovia. They were
chanting, as was customary on such occasions, a low, monotonous song,
in which Montigny, who happened to be listening, suddenly recognized the
language of his fatherland. His surprise was still greater when, upon
paying closer attention, he distinguished the terrible meaning of the
song. The pretended pilgrims, having no other means of communication
with the prisoner, were singing for his information the tragic fates of
his brother, Count Horn, and of his friend, Count Egmont. Mingled with
the strain were warnings of his own approaching doom; if he were not able
to effect his escape before it should be too late. Thus by this friendly
masquerade did Montigny learn the fate of his brother, which otherwise,
in that land of terrible secrecy, might have been concealed from him for
ever.
The hint as to his own preservation was not lost upon him; and he at
once set about a plan of escape. He succeeded in gaining over to his
interests one of the eight soldiers by whom he was guarded, and he was
thus enabled to communicate with many of his own adherents without the
prison walls. His major-domo had previously been permitted to furnish
his master's table with provisions dressed by his own cook. A
correspondence was now carried on by means of letters concealed within
the loaves of bread sent daily to the prisoner. In the same way files
were provided for sawing through his window-bars. A very delicate ladder
of ropes, by which he was to effect his escape into the court below, was
also transmitted. The plan had been completely arranged. A certain Pole
employed in the enterprise was to be at Hernani, with horses in readiness
to convey them to San Sebastian. There a sloop had been engaged, and was
waiting their arrival. Montigny, accordingly, in a letter enclosed
within a loaf of bread--the last, as he hoped, which he should break in
prison--was instructed, after cutting off his beard and otherwise
disguising his person, to execute his plan and join his confederates at
Hernani. Unfortunately, the major-domo of Montigny was in love. Upon
the eve of departure from Spain, his farewell interview with his mistress
was so much protracted that the care of sending the bread was left to
another. The substitute managed so unskilfully that the loaf was brought
to the commandant of the castle, and not to the prisoner. The commandant
broke the bread, discovered the letter, and became master of the whole
plot. All persons engaged in the enterprise were immediately condemned
to death, and the Spanish soldier executed without delay. The others
being considered, on account of their loyalty to their master as
deserving a commutation of punishment, were sent to the galleys. The
major-domo, whose ill-timed gallantry had thus cost Montigny his liberty,
received two hundred lashes in addition. All, however, were eventually
released from imprisonment.
The unfortunate gentleman was now kept in still closer confinement in his
lonely tower. As all his adherents had been disposed of, he could no
longer entertain a hope of escape. In the autumn of this year (1568) it
was thought expedient by Alva to bring his case formally before the Blood
Council. Montigny had committed no crime, but he was one of that band of
popular, nobles whose deaths had been long decreed. Letters were
accordingly sent to Spain, empowering certain functionaries there to
institute that preliminary examination, which, as usual, was to be the
only trial vouchsafed. A long list of interrogatories was addressed to
him on February 7th, 1569, in his prison at Segovia. A week afterwards,
he was again visited by the alcalde, who read over to him the answers
which he had made on the first occasion, and required him to confirm
them. He was then directed to send his procuration to certain persons in
the Netherlands, whom he might wish to appear in his behalf. Montigny
complied by sending several names, with a clause of substitution. All
the persons thus appointed, however, declined to act, unless they could
be furnished with a copy of the procuration, and with a statement of the
articles of accusation. This was positively refused by the Blood
Council. Seeing no possibility of rendering service to their friend by
performing any part in this mockery of justice, they refused to accept
the procuration. They could not defend a case when not only the
testimony, but even the charges against the accused were kept secret.
An individual was accordingly appointed by government to appear in the
prisoner's behalf.
Thus the forms of justice were observed, and Montigny, a close prisoner
in the tower of Segovia, was put upon trial for his life in Brussels.
Certainly nothing could exceed the irony of such a process. The advocate
had never seen his client, thousands of miles away, and was allowed to
hold no communication with him by letter. The proceedings were
instituted by a summons, addressed by the Duke of Alva to Madame de
Montigny in Brussels. That unhappy lady could only appeal to the King.
"Convinced," she said, "that her husband was innocent of the charges
brought against him, she threw herself, overwhelmed and consumed by tears
and misery, at his Majesty's feet. She begged the King to remember the
past services of Montigny, her own youth, and that she had enjoyed his
company but four months. By all these considerations, and by the passion
of Jesus Christ, she adjured the monarch to pardon any faults which her
husband might have committed." The reader can easily judge how much
effect such a tender appeal was like to have upon the heart of Philip.
From that rock; thus feebly smitten, there flowed no fountain of mercy.
It was not more certain that Montigny's answers to the interrogatories
addressed to him had created a triumphant vindication of his course, than
that such vindication would be utterly powerless to save his life. The
charges preferred against him were similar to those which had brought
Egmont and Horn to the block, and it certainly created no ground of hope
for him, that he could prove himself even more innocent of suspicious
conduct than they had done. On the 4th March, 1570, accordingly, the
Duke of Alva pronounced sentence against him. The sentence declared that
his head should be cut off, and afterwards exposed to public view upon
the head of a pike. Upon the 18th March, 1570, the Duke addressed a
requisitory letter to the alcaldes, corregidors, and other judges of
Castile, empowering them to carry the sentence into execution.
On the arrival of this requisition there was a serious debate before the
King in council. It seemed to be the general opinion that there had been
almost severity enough in the Netherlands for the present. The spectacle
of the public execution of another distinguished personage, it was
thought, might now prove more irritating than salutary. The King was
of this opinion himself. It certainly did not occur to him or to his
advisers that this consideration should lead them to spare the life of
an innocent man. The doubts entertained as to the expediency of a fresh
murder were not allowed to benefit the prisoner, who, besides being a
loyal subject and a communicant of the ancient Church, was also clothed
in the white robes of an envoy, claiming not only justice but
hospitality, as the deputy of Philip's sister, Margaret of Parma.
These considerations probably never occurred to the mind of His Majesty.
In view, however, of the peculiar circumstances of the case, it was
unanimously agreed that there should be no more blood publicly shed.
Most of the councillors were in favor of slow poison. Montigny's meat
and drink, they said, should be daily drugged, so that he might die by
little and little. Philip, however, terminated these disquisitions by
deciding that the ends of justice would not thus be sufficiently
answered. The prisoner, he had resolved, should be regularly executed,
but the deed should be secret, and it should be publicly announced that
he had died of a fever.
This point having been settled; the King now set about the arrangement
of his plan with all that close attention to detail which marked his
character. The patient industry which, had God given him a human heart
and a love of right, might have made him a useful monarch, he now devoted
to a scheme of midnight murder with a tranquil sense of enjoyment which
seems almost incredible. There is no exaggeration in calling the deed
a murder, for it certainly was not sanctioned by any law, divine or
human, nor justified or excused by any of the circumstances which are
supposed to palliate homicide. Nor, when the elaborate and superfluous
luxury of arrangements made by Philip for the accomplishment of his
design is considered, can it be doubted that he found a positive pleasure
in his task. It would almost seem that he had become jealous of Alva's
achievements in the work of slaughter. He appeared willing to prove to
those immediately about him, that however capable might be the Viceroy of
conducting public executions on a grand and terrifying scale, there was
yet a certain delicacy of finish never attained by Alva in such business,
and which was all his Majesty's own. The King was resolved to make the
assassination of Montigny a masterpiece.
On the 17th August, 1570, he accordingly directed Don Eugenio de Peralta,
concierge of the fortress of Simancas, to repair to Segovia, and thence
to remove the Seigneur Montigny to Simancas. Here he was to be strictly
immured; yet was to be allowed at times to walk in the corridor adjoining
his chamber. On the 7th October following, the licentiate Don Alonzo de
Avellano, alcalde of Valladolid, was furnished with an order addressed by
the King to Don Eugenio de Peralta, requiring him to place the prisoner
in the hands of the said licentiate, who was charged with the execution
of Alva's sentence. This functionary had, moreover, been provided with a
minute letter of instructions, which had been drawn up according to the
King's directions, on the 1st October. In these royal instructions, it
was stated that, although the sentence was for a public execution, yet
the King had decided in favor of a private one within the walls of the
fortress. It was to be managed so that no one should suspect that
Montigny had been executed, but so that, on the contrary, it should be
universally said and believed that he had died a natural death. Very few
persons, all sworn and threatened into secrecy, were therefore to be
employed. Don Alonzo was to start immediately for Valladolid; which was
within two short leagues of Simancas. At that place he would communicate
with Don Eugenio, and arrange the mode, day, and hour of execution. He
would leave Valladolid on the evening before a holiday, late in the
afternoon, so as to arrive a little after dark at Simancas. He would
take with him a confidential notary, an executioner, and as few servants
as possible. Immediately upon his entrance to the fortress, he was to
communicate the sentence of death to Montigny, in presence of Don Eugenio
and of one or two other persons. He would then console him, in which
task he would be assisted by Don Eugenio. He would afterwards leave him
with the religious person who would be appointed for that purpose. That
night and the whole of the following day, which would be a festival, till
after midnight, would be allotted to Montigny, that he might have time to
confess, to receive the sacraments, to convert himself to God, and to
repent. Between one and two o'clock in the morning the execution was to
take place, in presence of the ecclesiastic, of Don Eugenio de Peralta,
of the notary, and of one or two other persons, who would be needed by
the executioner. The ecclesiastic was to be a wise and prudent person,
and to be informed how little confidence Montigny inspired in the article
of faith. If the prisoner should wish to make a will, it could not be
permitted. As all his property had been confiscated, he could dispose of
nothing. Should he, however, desire to make a memorial of the debts
which he would wish paid; he was to be allowed that liberty. It was,
however, to be stipulated that he was to make no allusion, in any
memorial or letter which he might write, to the execution which was about
to take place. He was to use the language of a man seriously ill, and
who feels himself at the point of death. By this infernal ingenuity it
was proposed to make the victim an accomplice in the plot, and to place a
false exculpation of his assassins in his dying lips. The execution
having been fulfilled, and the death having been announced with the
dissimulation prescribed, the burial was to take place in the church of
Saint Saviour, in Simancas. A moderate degree of pomp, such as befitted
a person of Montigny's quality, was to be allowed, and a decent tomb
erected. A grand mass was also to be celebrated, with a respectable
number, "say seven hundred," of lesser masses. As the servants of the
defunct were few in number, continued the frugal King, they might be
provided each with a suit of mourning. Having thus personally arranged
all the details of this secret work, from the reading of the sentence to
the burial of the prisoner; having settled not only the mode of his
departure from life, but of his passage through purgatory, the King
despatched the agent on his mission.
The royal program was faithfully enacted. Don Alonzo arrived at
Valladolid; and made his arrangements with Don Eugenio. It was agreed
that a paper, prepared by royal authority, and brought by Don Alonzo from
Madrid, should be thrown into the corridor of Montigny's prison. This
paper, written in Latin, ran as follows:
"In the night, as I understand, there will be no chance for your
escape. In the daytime there will be many; for you are then in
charge of a single gouty guardian, no match in strength or speed for
so vigorous a man as you. Make your escape from the 8th to the 12th
of October, at any hour you can, and take the road contiguous to the
castle gate through which you entered. You will find Robert and
John, who will be ready with horses, and with everything necessary.
May God favor your undertaking.--R. D. M."
The letter, thus designedly thrown into the corridor by one confederate,
was soon afterwards picked up by the other, who immediately taxed
Montigny with an attempt to escape. Notwithstanding the vehement
protestations of innocence naturally made by the prisoner, his pretended
project was made the pretext for a still closer imprisonment in the
"Bishop's Tower." A letter, written at Madrid, by Philip's orders, had
been brought by Don Alonzo to Simancas, narrating by anticipation these
circumstances, precisely as they had now occurred. It moreover stated
that Montigny, in consequence of his close confinement, had fallen
grievously ill, and that he would receive all the attention compatible
with his safe keeping. This letter, according to previous orders, was
now signed by Don Eugenio de Peralta, dated 10th October, 1570; and
publicly despatched to Philip. It was thus formally established that
Montigny was seriously ill. A physician, thoroughly instructed and sworn
to secrecy, was now ostentatiously admitted to the tower, bringing with
him a vast quantity of drugs. He duly circulated among the townspeople,
on his return, his opinion that the illustrious prisoner was afflicted
with a disorder from which it was almost impossible that he should
recover. Thus, thanks to Philip's masterly precautions, not a person in
Madrid or Simancas was ignorant that Montigny was dying of a fever, with
the single exception of the patient himself.
On Saturday, the 14th of October, at nightfall, Don Alonzo de Avellano,
accompanied by the prescribed individuals, including Fray Hernando del,
Castillo, an ecclesiastic of high reputation, made their appearance at
the prison of Simancas. At ten in the evening the announcement of the
sentence was made to Montigny. He was visibly agitated at the sudden
intelligence, for it was entirely unexpected by him. He had, on the
contrary, hoped much from the intercession of, the Queen, whose arrival
he had already learned. He soon recovered himself, however, and
requested to be left alone with the ecclesiastic. All the night and the
following day were passed in holy offices. He conducted himself with
great moderation, courage, and tranquillity. He protested his entire
innocence of any complicity with the Prince of Orange, or of any disloyal
designs or sentiments at any period of his life. He drew up a memorial,
expressing his strong attachment to every point of the Catholic faith,
from which he had never for an instant swerved. His whole demeanor was
noble, submissive, and Christian. "In every essential," said Fray
Hernando, "he conducted himself so well that we who remain may bear him
envy." He wrote a paper of instructions concerning his faithful and
bereaved dependents. He placed his signet ring, attached to a small gold
chain, in the hands of the ecclesiastic, to be by him transmitted to his
wife. Another ring, set with turquois, he sent to his mother-in-law, the
Princess Espinoy, from whom he had received it. About an hour after
midnight, on the morning, therefore, of the 16th of October, Fray
Hernando gave notice that the prisoner was ready to die. The alcalde Don
Alonzo then entered, accompanied by the executioner and the notary. The
sentence of Alva was now again recited, the alcalde adding that the King,
"out of his clemency and benignity," had substituted a secret for a
public execution. Montigny admitted that the judgment would be just and
the punishment lenient, if it were conceded that the charges against him
were true. His enemies, however, while he had been thus immured, had
possessed the power to accuse him as they listed. He ceased to speak,
and the executioner then came forward and strangled him. The alcalde,
the notary, and the executioner then immediately started for Valladolid,
so that no person next morning knew that they had been that night at
Simancas, nor could guess the dark deed which they had then and there
accomplished. The terrible, secret they were forbidden, on pain of
death, to reveal.
Montigny, immediately after his death, was clothed in the habit of Saint
Francis, in order to conceal the marks of strangulation. In the course
of the day the body was deposited, according to the King's previous
orders, in the church of Saint Saviour. Don Eugenio de Peralta, who
superintended the interment, uncovered the face of the defunct to prove
his identity, which was instantly recognised by many sorrowing servants.
The next morning the second letter, prepared by Philip long before, and
brought by Don Alonzo de Avellano to Simancas, received the date of 17th
October, 1570, together with the signature of Don Eugenio de Peralta,
keeper of Simancas fortress, and was then publicly despatched to the
King. It stated that, notwithstanding the care given to the Seigneur de
Montigny in his severe illness by the physicians who had attended him, he
had continued to grow worse and worse until the previous morning between
three and four o'clock, when he had expired. The Fray Hernando del
Castillo, who had accidentally happened to be at Simancas, had performed
the holy offices, at the request of the deceased, who had died in so
catholic a frame of mind, that great hopes might be entertained of his
salvation. Although he possessed no property, yet his burial had been
conducted very respectably.
On the 3rd of November, 1570, these two letters, ostensibly written by
Don Eugenio de Peralta, were transmitted by Philip to the Duke of Alva.
They were to serve as evidence of the statement which the Governor-
General was now instructed to make, that the Seigneur de Montigny had
died a natural death in the fortress of Simancas. By the same courier,
the King likewise forwarded a secret memoir, containing the exact history
of the dark transaction, from which memoir the foregoing account has been
prepared. At the same time the Duke was instructed publicly to exhibit
the lying letters of Don Eugenio de Peralta, as containing an authentic
statement of the affair. The King observed, moreover, in his letter,
that there was not a person in Spain who doubted that Montigny had died
of a fever. He added that if the sentiments of the deceased nobleman had
been at all in conformity with his external manifestations, according to
the accounts received of his last moments, it was to be hoped that God
would have mercy upon his soul. The secretary who copied the letter,
took the liberty of adding, however, to this paragraph the suggestion,
that "if Montigny were really a heretic, the devil, who always assists
his children in such moments, would hardly have failed him in his dying
hour." Philip, displeased with this flippancy, caused the passage to be
erased. He even gave vent to his royal indignation in a marginal note,
to the effect that we should always express favorable judgments
concerning the dead--a pious sentiment always dearer to writing masters
than to historians. It seemed never to have occurred however to this
remarkable moralist, that it was quite as reprehensible to strangle an
innocent man as to speak ill of him after his decease.
Thus perished Baron Montigny, four years after his arrival in Madrid as
Duchess Margaret's ambassador, and three years after the death of his
fellow-envoy Marquis Berghen. No apology is necessary for so detailed an
account of this dark and secret tragedy. The great transactions of a
reign are sometimes paltry things; great battles and great treaties,
after vast consumption of life and of breath, often leave the world where
they found it. The events which occupy many of the statelier pages of
history, and which have most lived in the mouths of men, frequently
contain but commonplace lessons of philosophy. It is perhaps otherwise
when, by the resuscitation of secret documents, over which the dust of
three centuries has gathered, we are enabled to study the internal
working of a system of perfect tyranny. Liberal institutions, republican
or constitutional governments, move in the daylight; we see their mode of
operation, feel the jar of their wheels, and are often needlessly alarmed
at their apparent tendencies. The reverse of the picture is not always
so easily attainable. When, therefore, we find a careful portrait of a
consummate tyrant, painted by his own hand, it is worth our while to
pause for a moment, that we may carefully peruse the lineaments.
Certainly, we shall afterwards not love liberty the less.