Trial of Hoorne and Egmont-their Execution.

33

bring Hoorne and Egmont, to execution before he quitted Brussels. The details of this trial fill a whole chapter, and show what a mere mockery a trial was in Brussels. It was in vain that neighbouring princes interfered on their behalf, that their relations were indefatigable, while Egmont's wife, the Countess Sabina, surrounded by eleven children, all of tenderest age, was ceaselessly imploring the judges, even Alva himself, and as a last resource, the king, to take pity on her unhappy husband. It was a most gratuitous falsification of history, as Mr. Prescott remarks, for Goethe, in his fine drama, to substitute a mistress for that noble and true-hearted wife. On the 2nd of June they were found guilty, and the next day, escorted by a body of three thousand men, were brought back to Brussels, a sight so 'piteous,' said one who was an eye-witness, that no one who beheld it could refrain from weeping. They were lodged at the Maison du Roi, the whole force that had escorted them still remaining in the great square. On the 4th, the Duke of Alva sent for the Bishop of Ypres, and bade him visit the prisoners and prepare them for their fate. The worthy man, shocked at the tidings, threw himself at Alva's feet to implore mercy, or at least to grant them more time for preparation. But Alva sternly rebuked him, and dismissed him to his mournful task. It was near midnight when he entered Egmont's apartment, and he found the poor nobleman, weak and wearied, buried in slumber. Egmont was awakened to receive sentence of death! No wonder he turned deadly pale, and exclaimed, 'It is a terrible sentence.' He remarked that his crime scarcely could deserve such a punishment, but trusted his innocent family would not be involved in his ruin. The kind bishop comforted him, received his confession, and administered the sacrament. But recollections of his wife and family crowded on his mind, and he could scarcely fix his thoughts on his own death. That death has often been told, but Mr. Prescott gives so full and admirable an account, that we shall continue the narrative in his own words.

'At 10 in the morning, the soldiers appeared who were to conduct him to the scaffold. They brought cords, as usual, to bind the prisoner's hands, but Egmont remonstrated, and showed he had cut off the collar of his doublet and shirt to facilitate the stroke of the executioner, and on his promising to attempt no resistance, they consented to his remaining with his hands unbound. Egmont was dressed in a crimson damask robe and black mantle fringed with gold: in his hand he held a white handkerchief. . . As the procession moved slowly along, he repeated some portion of the 51st Psalm, 'Have mercy upon me, O God,' in which the good prelate joined. In the centre of the square, on the spot where so much of the best blood of the Nether

NO. XLV.

D

lands has been shed, stood the scaffold covered with black cloth. On it were two velvet cushions with a small table shrouded in black, supporting a silver crucifix. At the corner of the platform were two poles pointed at the end with steel, intimating the purpose for which they were intended. The troops, who had been under arms all night, were now drawn up around in order of battle. 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. 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,' said one residing there at the time, as though the day of judgment were at hand.' 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 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.

'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. He quickly, however, turned to other thoughts, and, kneeling on one of the cushions with the bishop beside him, he was soon engaged earnestly in prayer. With his eyes raised towards heaven, with a look of unutterable sadness, he prayed so fervently and loud as to be heard distinctly by the spectators. The prelate, much affected, put into his hand the silver crucifix, which Egmont repeatedly kissed. He then stripped off his mantle and robe, and again kneeling, drew a silk cap over his eyes, and repeating the words, Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit,' he calmly awaited the stroke of the executioner. The low sounds of lamentation which from time to time had been heard were now hushed into silence, as the minister of justice (?) approached, 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.'

Thus perished the chivalrous and generous Egmont, another illustration of the truth of that solemn warning, Put not your trust in princes.' It was almost noon when Count Hoorne was brought forth to meet the same fate; but his look had less of 'sorrow than of indignation, like that of one conscious of enduring wrong. As he trod the scaffold, the apparatus of death seemed 'to have no power to move him,' and, asking the spectators' prayers, he calmly laid his head on the block.

These were, at least, public murders; but, in the subsequent

Montigny. Don Carlos-his Mysterious Death. 35

chapter, which relates the fate of Montigny, Hoorne's younger brother, we find that Philip could secretly murder, and cloak that murder from the eyes of men, even until now, with the wary secrecy of the Holy Inquisition. The cause of historical truth owes much to students who, like Mr. Prescott, consider the most toilsome research well bestowed if light can be thrown on these obscure, but important facts of history.

With the sad execution of Egmont and Hoorne, Mr. Prescott's narrative of the war in Flanders ends; and he devotes the first five chapters of his fourth book to the Ottoman empire, during the sixteenth century, and the gallant deeds of the Knights of St. John at the obstinate siege of Malta. It is a stirring tale of those valiant knights, and their illustrious grand master, la Valette, and graphically and powerfully is it told by Mr. Prescott. Still, we cannot but regret that so large a space of his valuable work is occupied with the relation of exploits, neither performed by Spaniards, nor having any influence on the destinies of Spain. The closing chapters are devoted to that most mysterious incident of Spanish history, the imprisonment and death of Don Carlos; a subject which, we need scarcely say, has occupied the attention of the dramatist, almost as much as the historian. By aid of the valuable documents with which a most extensive search has supplied him, Mr. Prescott, while he utterly disproves the commonly received tale of the mutual attachment of Isabella and her son-in-law, shows the deep hatred that Philip unquestionably bore to his son. From various testimonies, he proves that Don Carlos, sickly and wayward from his birth, was of a fierce and haughty temper; that when seventeen years old, he fractured his skull by a severe fall; that he was trepanned, as the only means of saving his life, and there is good reason to believe that the blow did some permanent injury to the brain;' for many instances of his strange conduct are given. But then mere insanity would excite, even in Philip, pity rather than hatred. With great care and skill Mr. Prescott next collects all the evidence (much of it most contradictory) which he can obtain upon this still mysterious subject; and although he leaves undetermined the question whether Carlos was murdered, or died a natural death, he concludes, Yet, can those who reject the im'putation of murder acquit that father of inexorable rigour towards ' his child in the measures which he employed, or of the dreadful responsibility which attaches to the consequences of them?

We close these volumes with much pleasure, hoping soon to receive the remaining portion of this valuable history; meanwhile recommending them to all our readers as a most carefully studied and graphic narrative of those eventful times.

36

ART. II.—(1.) Meteorological Essays. By FRANÇOIS ARAGO, Member of the Institute. With an Introduction by BARON VON HUMBoldt. Translated under the superintendence of COL.SABINE, R.A., V.P.R.S. London: Longmans. 1855.

(2.) On the Nature of Thunder-storms, and on the Means of Protecting Buildings and Shipping from the Destructive Effects of Lightning. By W. SNOW HARRIS, F.R.S. London: Parker.

1843.

(3.) A Manual of Electricity, Magnetism, and Meteorology. By DIONYSIUS LARDNER, D.C.L., and CHARLES V. WALKER. 2 vols. London: Longmans. 1844. (4.) The Thunder-storm; or, an Account of the Nature, Properties, Dangers, and Uses of Lightning in various parts of the World. London: Printed for the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. 1848.

THE name of François Arago is indelibly stamped upon the science of the nineteenth century. His brilliant physical researches, particularly in optics, astronomy, electricity, and magnetism, entitled him to inscribe it in luminous letters on the scroll of Fame. And now that his career of discovery is closed, no herald is needed to prepare the public for a collected edition of his works, nor is any flourish of trumpets required to bespeak attention to his literary remains. But better and more touching than all the formal eulogies which pen could indite, or lips could pronounce, is the graceful tribute of regard which the veteran Humboldt here pays to the memory of one whom he was delighted to call his friend. In a brief introduction to the first volume of Arago's works, the Nestor of science comes forward to lay on the tomb which has so recently received its tribute of distinguished dust the homage of his admiration and lively gratitude.' Bending over the ashes which once glowed with the fires of genius, the sage seems at one moment to point with a proud finger to the achievements of the philosopher, and then his voice faulters, and anon he tells us with a tremulous tongue how deeply he loved and reverenced the man. This is beautiful in the extreme. When Humboldt repairs to the tomb of Arago, like a weeping pilgrim grey,' it is as if Science herself came down in visible form to shed tears over the relics of a favourite son.

The treatise on Thunder and Lightning has been worthily selected as the first specimen of Arago's physical researches. When the original essay appeared in the Annuaire du Bureau des Longitudes, it attracted considerable attention, not only because it was the ablest and most elaborate attempt which had

Arago's Lightning-Obituary.

37

been made to investigate the history of this phenomenon, but because the public were becoming sensible in some degree of the gravity of the questions which were linked to the subject of lightning-conductors. At the time when Arago commenced his inquiries, no one had taken the meteor properly in hand. Notices of its doings might be found scattered through the Transactions of learned societies, or buried in the tomes of forgotten travellers. But a workman was wanted who could hunt up these fragmentary details and mould them into an orderly and intelligent memoir. Scarcely conscious of the labour involved, Arago undertook the task. He toiled through hundreds of volumes of journals, narratives, voyages, and meteorological notices, where disappointment generally dogged his steps, but where occasionally he had the pleasure of picking up an incident of value amidst a multitude of idle or unavailing particulars.

So diligent were his researches, that for several years he kept a register of persons struck by lightning, as far as could be collected from the newspapers of the day. The circumstances under which the unfortunates were killed were posted up in this grim ledger with the sang-froid of a true French philosopher. This man was smitten in bed; that whilst cowering under a corn-rick: others when engaged in ringing bells; and many whilst seeking a treacherous shelter under trees. Yet, dismal as it looks, what a number of lives might probably be saved by studying the facts presented by this chronicle of death!

It is necessary, however, to observe that Arago's treatise is more of a history than an inquiry into the causes of the phenomenon, or an explanation of its effects. The author's business is with observation, and not with theory. Fearing that the subject might be prejudiced by preconceived notions respecting the identity of lightning and electricity, he seems to have gone directly to nature for information, instead of looking for analogies in the mimic flashes which may be drawn from a Leyden battery, or the miniature storms which may be brewed in the laboratory. This was a meritorious resolution in some respects, for the writer would have found it easier as well as more pleasant to get up a tempest on his own premises, and to study the meteor in glass phials and at the point of prime conductors. But a little more scrutiny of principles, and a little larger discussion of inferences, from a man so well qualified as Arago, would in our opinion have added materially to the value of the production.

Impressed, however, with the difficulties which surround the phenomenon, and feeling, perhaps, that Jove's thunderbolts should not be made the subject of hasty speculation, he handles them