places of the land. It was obvious; then, that all intercession
must thereafter be useless. Philip was fanatically impressed with his
mission. His viceroy was possessed by his loyalty as by a demon. In this
way alone, that conduct which can never be palliated may at least be
comprehended. It was Philip's enthusiasm to embody the wrath of God
against heretics. It was Alva's enthusiasm to embody the wrath of Philip.
Narrow-minded, isolated, seeing only that section of the world which was
visible through the loop-hole of the fortress in which Nature had
imprisoned him for life, placing his glory in unconditional obedience to
his superior, questioning nothing, doubting nothing, fearing nothing, the
viceroy accomplished his work of hell with all the tranquillity of an
angel. An iron will, which clove through every obstacle; adamantine
fortitude, which sustained without flinching a mountain of responsibility
sufficient to crush a common nature, were qualities which, united to, his
fanatical obedience, made him a man for Philip's work such as could not
have been found again in the world.

The case, then, was tried before a tribunal which was not only
incompetent, under the laws of the land, but not even a court of justice
in any philosophical or legal sense. Constitutional and municipal law
were not more outraged in its creation, than all national and natural
maxims.

The reader who has followed step by step the career of the two
distinguished victims through the perilous days of Margaret's
administration, is sufficiently aware of the amount of treason with which
they are chargeable. It would be an insult to common sense for us to set
forth, in full, the injustice of their sentence. Both were guiltless
towards the crown; while the hands of one, on the contrary, were deeply
dyed in the blood of the people. This truth was so self-evident, that
even a member of the Blood-Council, Pierre Arsens, president of Artois,
addressed an elaborate memoir to the Duke of Alva, criticising the case
according to the rules of law, and maintaining that Egmont, instead of
deserving punishment, was entitled to a signal reward.

So much for the famous treason of Counts Egmont and Horn, so far as
regards the history of the proceedings and the merits of the case. The
last act of the tragedy was precipitated by occurrences which must be now
narrated.

The Prince of Orange had at last thrown down the gauntlet. Proscribed,
outlawed, with his Netherl