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 It is not till very recently that the veil has been withdrawn through the access that has been given to the Archives of Simancas, that dread repository, in which the secrets of the Castilian kings have been buried for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.

Having thus discharged their painful office, Arellano and the governor withdrew, and, summoning the friar, left the prisoner to the spiritual consolations he so much needed. What followed, we have from Castillo himself. As Montigny's agitation subsided, he listened patiently to the exhortations of the good father; and when at length restored to something like his natural composure, he joined with him earnestly in prayer. He then confessed and received the sacrament, seeming desirous of employing the brief space that yet remained to him in preparation for the solemn change. At intervals, when not actually occupied with his devotions, he read the compositions of Father Luis de Granada, whose spiritualized conceptions had often solaced the hours of his captivity.

Montigny was greatly disturbed by the rumor of his having been shaken in his religious principles, and having embraced the errors of the Reformers. To correct this impression, he briefly drew up, with his own hand, a confession of faith, in which he avows as implicit a belief in all the articles sanctioned by the Roman Catholic Church, and its head, the Vicar of Christ, as Pius the Fifth himself could have desired.[1254] Having thus relieved his mind, Montigny turned to settle some temporal affairs which he was desirous to settle. They did not occupy much time. For, as Philip had truly remarked, there was no occasion for him to make a will, since he had nothing to bequeath,--all his property having been confiscated to the crown.[1255] If, however, any debt pressed heavily on his conscience, he was to be allowed to indicate it, as well as any provision which he particularly desired to make for a special purpose. This was on the condition, however, that he should allude to himself as about to die a natural death.[1256]

Montigny profited by this to express the wish that masses, to the number of seven hundred, might be said for his soul, that sundry sums might be appropriated to private uses, and that some gratuities might be given to certain of his faithful followers. It may interest the reader to know that the masses were punctually performed. In regard to the pious legacies, the king wrote to Alva, he must first see if Montigny's estate would justify the appropriation; as for the gratuities to servants, they were wholly out of the question.[1257]

One token of remembrance, which he placed in the hands of Castillo, doubtless reached its destination. This was a gold chain of delicate workmanship, with a seal or signet ring attached to it, bearing his arms. This little token he requested might be given to his wife. It had been his constant companion ever since they were married; and he wished her to wear it in memory of him,--expressing at the same time his regret that a longer life had not been granted him, to serve and honor her. As a dying injunction he besought her not to be entangled by the new doctrines, or to swerve from the faith of her ancestors.--If ever Montigny had a leaning to the doctrines of the Reformation, it could hardly have deepened into conviction; for early habit and education reasserted their power so entirely, at this solemn moment, that the Dominican by his side declared that he gave evidence of being as good and Catholic a Christian as he could wish to be himself.[1258] The few hours in which Montigny had thus tasted of the bitterness of death seemed to have done more to wean him from the vanities of life than the whole years of dreary imprisonment he had passed within the walls of Segovia and Simancas. Yet we shall hardly credit the friar's assertion, that he carried his resignation so far, that, though insisting on his own innocence, he admitted the sentence of his judges to be just![1259]

At about two o'clock on the morning of the sixteenth of October, when the interval allowed for this solemn preparation had expired, Father Castillo waited on the governor and the alcalde, to inform them that the hour had come, and that their prisoner was ready to receive them. They went, without further delay, to the chamber of death, attended by the notary and the executioner. Then, in their presence, while the notary made a record of the proceedings, the grim minister of the law did his work on his unresisting victim.[1260]

No sooner was the breath out of the body of Montigny, than the alcalde, the priest, and their two companions were on their way back to Valladolid, reaching it before dawn, so as to escape the notice of the inhabitants. All were solemnly bound to secrecy in regard to the dark

## act in which they had been engaged. The notary and the hangman were

still further secured by the menace of death, in case they betrayed any knowledge of the matter; and they knew full well that Philip was not a man to shrink from the execution of his menaces.[1261]

[Sidenote: HIS LAST MOMENTS.]

The corpse was arrayed in a Franciscan habit, which, coming up to the throat, left the face only exposed to observation. It was thus seen by Montigny's servants, who recognised the features of their master, hardly more distorted than sometimes happens from disease, when the agonies of death have left their traces. The story went abroad that their lord had died of the fever with which he had been so violently attacked.

The funeral obsequies were performed, according to the royal orders, with all due solemnity. The vicar and beneficiaries of the church of St. Saviour officiated on the occasion. The servants of the deceased were clad in mourning,--a token of respect recommended by Philip, who remarked, the servants were so few, that mourning might as well be given to them;[1262] and he was willing to take charge of this and the other expenses of the funeral, provided Montigny had not left money sufficient for the purpose. The place selected for his burial was a vault under one of the chapels of the building; and a decent monument indicated the spot where reposed the ashes of the last of the envoys who came from Flanders on the ill-starred mission to Madrid.[1263]

Such is a true account of this tragical affair, as derived from the king's own letters and those of his agents. Far different was the story put in circulation at the time. On the seventeenth of October, the day after Montigny's death, despatches were received at court from Peralta, the alcayde of the fortress. They stated that, after writing his former letter, his prisoner's fever had so much increased, that he had called in the aid of a physician; and as the symptoms became more alarming, the latter had entered into a consultation with the medical adviser of the late regent, Joanna, so that nothing that human skill could afford should be wanting to the patient. He grew rapidly worse, however, and as, happily, Father Hernando del Castillo, of Valladolid, chanced to be then in Simancas, he came and administered the last consolations of religion to the dying man. Having done all that a good Christian at such a time should do, Montigny expired early on the morning of the sixteenth, manifesting at the last so Catholic a spirit, that good hopes might be entertained of his salvation.[1264]

This hypocritical epistle, it is hardly necessary to say, like the one that preceded it, had been manufactured at Madrid. Nor was it altogether devoid of truth. The physician of the place, named Viana, had been called in; and it was found necessary to intrust him with the secret. Every day he paid his visit to the castle, and every day returned with more alarming accounts of the condition of the patient; and thus the minds of the community were prepared for the fatal termination of his disorder. Not that, after all, this was unattended with suspicions of foul play in the matter, as people reflected how opportune was the occurrence of such an event. But suspicions were not proof. The secret was too well guarded for any one to penetrate the veil of mystery; and the few who were behind that veil loved their lives too well to raise it.

Despatches written in cipher, and containing a full and true account of the affair, were sent to the duke of Alva. The two letters of Peralta, which indeed were intended for the meridian of Brussels rather than of Madrid, were forwarded with them. The duke was told to show them incidentally, as it were, without obtruding them on any one's notice,[1265] that Montigny's friends in the Netherlands might be satisfied of their truth.

In his own private communication to Alva, Philip, in mentioning the orthodox spirit manifested by his victim in his last moments, shows that with the satisfaction which he usually expressed on such occasions was mingled some degree of scepticism. "If his inner man," he writes of Montigny, "was penetrated with as Christian a spirit as he exhibited in the outer, and as the friar who confessed him has reported, God, we may presume, will have mercy on his soul."[1266] In the original draft of the letter, as prepared by the king's secretary, it is further added: "Yet, after all, who can tell but this was a delusion of Satan, who, as we know, never deserts the heretic in his dying hour." This sentence--as appears from the manuscript still preserved in Simancas--was struck out by Philip, with the remark in his own hand, "Omit this, as we should think no evil of the dead!"[1267]

Notwithstanding this magnanimous sentiment, Philip lost no time in publishing Montigny to the world as a traitor, and demanding the confiscation of his estates. The Council of Blood learned a good lesson from the Holy Inquisition, which took care that even Death should not defraud it of its victims. Proceedings were instituted against the _memory_ of Montigny, as had before been done against the memory of the marquis of Bergen.[1268] On the twenty-second of March, 1571, the duke of Alva pronounced sentence, condemning the memory of Florence de Montmorency, lord of Montigny, as guilty of high treason, and confiscating his goods and estates to the use of the crown; "it having come to his knowledge," the instrument went on to say, "that the said Montigny had deceased by natural death in the fortress of Simancas, where he had of late been held a prisoner!"[1269]

The proceedings of the Council of Blood against Montigny were characterized, as I have already said, by greater effrontery and a more flagrant contempt of the common forms of justice than were usually to be met with even in that tribunal. A bare statement of the facts is sufficient. The party accused was put on his trial--if trial it can be called--in one country, while he was held in close custody in another. The court before which he was tried--or rather the jury, for the council seems to have exercised more of the powers of a jury than of a judge--was on this occasion a packed body, selected to suit the purposes of the prosecution. Its sentence, instead of being publicly pronounced, was confided only to the party interested to obtain it,--the king. Even the sentence itself was not the one carried into effect; but another was substituted in its place, and a public execution was supplanted by a midnight assassination. It would be an abuse of language to dignify such a proceeding with the title of a judicial murder.

[Sidenote: NOTICE OF GACHARD.]

Yet Philip showed no misgivings as to his own course in the matter. He had made up his mind as to the guilt of Montigny. He had been false to his king and false to his religion; offences which death only could expiate. Still we find Philip resorting to a secret execution, although Alva, as we have seen, had supposed that sentence was to be executed on Montigny in the same open manner as it had been on the other victims of the bloody tribunal. But the king shrunk from exposing a deed to the public eye, which, independently of its atrocity in other respects, involved so flagrant a violation of good faith towards the party who had come, at his sovereign's own desire, on a public mission to Madrid. With this regard to the opinions of his own age, it may seem strange that Philip should not have endeavored to efface every vestige of his connection with the act, by destroying the records which established it. On the contrary, he not only took care that such records should be made, but caused them, and all other evidence of the affair, to be permanently preserved in the national archives. There they lay for the inspection of posterity, which was one day to sit in judgment on his conduct.

* * * * *

In the part of this History which relates to the Netherlands, I have been greatly indebted to two eminent scholars of that country. The first of these, M. Gachard, who had the care of the royal archives of Belgium, was commissioned by his government, in 1844, to visit the Peninsula for the purpose of collecting materials for the illustration of the national history. The most important theatre of his labors was Simancas, which, till the time of his visit, had been carefully closed to natives as well as foreigners. M. Gachard profited by the more liberal arrangements which, under certain restrictions, opened its historical treasures to the student. The result of his labors he is now giving to the world by the publication of his "Correspondance de Philippe II.," of which two volumes have already been printed. The work is published in a beautiful form, worthy of the auspices under which it has appeared. It consists chiefly of the correspondence carried on by the Spanish government and the authorities of the Netherlands in the reign of Philip the Second,--the revolutionary age, and of course the most eventful period of their history. The official despatches, written in French, are, it is true, no longer to be found in Simancas, whence they were removed to Brussels on the accession of Albert and Isabella to the sovereignty of the Low Countries. But a large mass of correspondence which passed between the court of Castile and the Netherlands, is still preserved in the Spanish archives. As it is, for the most part, of a confidential nature, containing strictures on men and things intended only for the eyes of the parties to it, it is of infinite value to the historian. Not only has it never before been published, but, with the exception of a portion which passed under the review of the Italian Strada, it has never been submitted to the inspection of the scholar. With the aid of this rich collection, the historian is enabled to enter into many details, hitherto unknown, of a personal nature, relating to the actors in the great drama of the revolution, as well as to disclose some of the secret springs of their policy.

M. Gachard has performed his editorial duties with conscientiousness and ability. In a subsequent volume he proposes to give the entire text of the more important letters; but in the two already published he has confined himself to an analysis of their contents, more or less extended, according to circumstances. He has added explanatory notes, and prefixed to the whole a copious dissertation, presenting a view of the politics of the Castilian court, and of the characters of the king and the great officers of state. As the writer's information is derived from sources the most authentic as well as the least accessible to scholars, his preliminary essay deserves to be carefully studied by the historian of the Netherlands.

M. Gachard has further claims to the gratitude of every lover of letters by various contributions in other forms which he has made to the illustration of the national history. Among these his "Correspondance de Guillaume le Taciturne," of which three volumes in octavo have already appeared, has been freely used by me. It consists of a collection of William's correspondence, industriously gathered from various quarters. The letters differ from one another as widely in value as might naturally be expected in so large and miscellaneous a collection.

The other scholar by whose editorial labors I have profited in this part of my work is M. Groen van Prinsterer. His voluminous publication, "Archives de la Maison d'Orange-Nassau," the first series of which embraces the times of William the Silent, is derived from the private collection of the king of Holland. The contents are various, but consist chiefly of letters from persons who took a prominent part in the conduct of affairs. Their correspondence embraces a miscellaneous range of topics, and with those of public interest combines others strictly personal in their details, thus bringing into strong relief the characters of the most eminent actors on the great political theatre. A living interest attaches to this correspondence, which we shall look for in vain in the colder pages of the historian. History gives us the acts, but letters like these, in which the actors speak for themselves, give us the thoughts, of the individual.

M. Groen has done his part of the work well, adhering to the original text with scrupulous fidelity, and presenting us the letters in the various languages in which they were written. The interstices, so to speak, between the different parts of the correspondence, are skilfully filled up by the editor, so as to connect the incongruous materials into a well compacted fabric. In conducting what, as far as he is concerned, may be termed the original part of his work, the editor has shown much discretion, gathering information from collateral contemporary sources; and, by the side-lights he has thus thrown over the path, has greatly facilitated the progress of the student, and enabled him to take a survey of the whole historical ground. The editor is at no pains to conceal his own opinions; and we have no difficulty in determining the religious sect to which he belongs. But it is not the less true, that he is ready to render justice to the opinions of others, and that he is entitled to the praise of having executed his task with impartiality.

One may notice a peculiarity in the criticisms of both Groen and Gachard, the more remarkable considering the nations to which they belong; that is, the solicitude they manifest to place the most favorable construction on the conduct of Philip, and to vindicate his memory from the wholesale charges so often brought against him, of a systematic attempt to overturn the liberties of the Netherlands. The reader, even should he not always feel the cogency of their arguments, will not refuse his admiration to the candor of the critics.

There is a third publication, recently issued from the press in Brussels, which contains, in the compass of a single volume, materials of much importance for the history of the Netherlands. This is the "Correspondance de Marguerite d'Autriche," by the late Baron Reiffenberg. It is a part of the French correspondence which, as I have mentioned above, was transferred, in the latter part of Philip the Second's reign, from Simancas to Brussels; but which, instead of remaining there, was removed, after the country had passed under the Austrian sceptre, to the imperial library of Vienna, where it exists, in all probability, at the present day. Some fragments of this correspondence escaped the fate which attended the bulk of it; and it is gleanings from these which Reiffenberg has given to the world.

That country is fortunate which can command the services of such men as these for the illustration of its national annals,--men who with singular enthusiasm for their task combine the higher qualifications of scholarship, and a talent for critical analysis. By their persevering labors the rich ore has been drawn from the mines where it had lain in darkness for ages. It now waits only for the hand of the artist to convert it into coin, and give it a popular currency.

[Sidenote: CONDITION OF TURKEY.]

## BOOK IV.

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