riots had roused the burghers from their beds; the darkness unduly magnified the danger, so that the respectable people prepared to defend themselves in their houses, instead of hastening to protect their churches, and in fear and anxiety awaited the break of day. At last the sun came to show the ruin that had been worked during the night; but the darkness did not put an end to the devastation. Some churches and religious buildings were still uninjured, but the same fate soon visited them, and the work of destruction lasted for three days. The better class of burghers ventured forth at last in arms, fearful lest the mad mob, when it could no longer find religious property to destroy, should turn its attacks against the goods of private persons, and plunder the shops; encouraged also on finding how few in numbers were the actors in these outrages. All the gates of the town but one were closed; but through this one the iconoclasts broke out to perform the same scenes in the rural districts. Once only, during all this time, did the magistrates try to exercise their authority, so much did they fear the power of the Calvinists, by whom this mob of miscreants was believed to have been hired. The injury done by this work of destruction cannot be calculated. In the church of the Virgin it was estimated at the value of not less | than four hundred thousand gold florins. Many rare works of art and valuable manuscripts were destroyed; and thus many important historical documents have perished. The burgomaster ordered the plundered articles to be given up on pain of death; and the Protestant preachers, who were ashamed of their disciples, gave him useful help in procuring this restitution. A good deal of property was thus recovered; and the ringleaders of the mob, who had probably been less actuated by the desire of plunder than by anger and religious zeal, or, perhaps, had only obeyed the orders of some secret chief, determined that in future they would guard against such excesses, and make their attacks in organised bodies and in better order. THE FATE OF COUNTS EGMONT AND HORN. (Motley's Rise of the Dutch Republic.) A.D. 1567. On the night of the 8th September, | them concerning the plan of the Egmont received another most sig- citadel, which he proposed erecting nificative and mysterious warning. at Antwerp. A Spaniard, apparently an officer of rank, came secretly into his house, and urged him solemnly to effect his escape before the morrow. The Countess, who related the story afterwards, always believed, without being certain, that the mysterious visitor was Julian Ro- | mero, maréchal-de-camp. Egmont, however, continued as blindly confident as before. On the following day, September 9, the grand prior, Don Ferdinando, gave a magnificent dinner, to which Egmont and Horn, together with Noircarmes, the Viscount de Ghent, and many other noblemen, were invited. The banquet was enlivened by the music of Alva's own military band, which the duke sent to entertain the company. At three o'clock he sent a message, begging the gentlemen, after their dinner should be concluded, to favour him with their company at his house (the maison de Jassy), as he wished to consult At this moment the grand prior, who was seated next to Egmont, whispered in his ear, "Leave this place, Signor Count, instantly; take the fleetest horse in your stable, and make your escape without a moment's delay." Egmont, much troubled, and remembering the manifold prophecies and admonitions which he had passed by unheeded, rose from the table and went into the next room. He was followed by Noircarmes and two other gentlemen, who had observed his agitation, and were curious as to its cause. The Count repeated to them the mysterious words just whispered to him by the grand prior, adding that he was determined to take the advice without a moment's delay. "Ha! Count," exclaimed Noircarmes, "do not put lightly such implicit confidence in this stranger, who is counselling you to your destruction? What will the Duke of Alva and all the Spaniards say of such a precipitate flight? Will | with the engineers, Urbino and they not say that your excellency Pacheco, all taking part in the dehad fled from the consciousness of guilt? Will not your escape be construed into a confession of high treason?" If these words were really spoken by Noircarmes, and that they were so we have the testimony of a Walloon gentleman in constant communication with Egmont's friends, and with the whole Catholic party, they furnish another proof of the malignant and cruel character of the man. The advice fixed for ever the fate of the vacillating Egmont. He had risen from the table determined to take the advice of a noble-minded Spaniard, who had adventured his life to save his friend. He now returned in obedience to the counsel of a bate. After a short time the Duke of Alva left the apartment, on pretext of a sudden indisposition, leaving the company still warmly engaged in their argument. The council lasted till near seven in the evening. As it broke up, Don Sancho d'Avila, captain of the Duke's guard, requested Egmont to remain for a moment after the rest, as he had a communication to make to him. After an insignificant remark or two, the Spanish officer, as soon as the two were alone, requested Egmont to surrender his sword. The Count, agitated, and, notwithstanding everything which had gone before, still taken by surprise, scarcely knew what reply to make. Don Sancho repeated that he had been commissioned to arrest him, and again demanded his sword. At the same moment the doors of the adjacent apartment were opened, and Egmont saw himself surround fellow-countryman, a Flemish noble, to treat the well-meant warning with indifference, and to seat himself again at the last banquet which he was ever to grace with his presence. At four o'clock, the dinner be-ed by a company of Spanish musing finished, Horn and Egmont, queteers and halberd men. Findaccompanied by the other gentle- ing himself thus entrapped, he men, proceeded to the " Jassy gave up his sword, saying bitterly, house, then occupied by Alva, to as he did so, that it had at least take part in the deliberations pro- rendered some service to the king posed. They were received by in times which were past. He the Duke with great courtesy. was then conducted to a chamber The engineer, Pietro Urbino, in the upper storey of the house, soon appeared and laid upon the where his temporary prison had table a large parchment contain- been arranged. The windows were ing the plan and elevation of the barricaded, the daylight excluded, citadel to be erected at Antwerp. the whole apartment hung with A warm discussion upon the sub- black. Here he remained fourject soon arose, Egmont, Horn, teen days (from the 9th to 23d Noircarmes, and others, together | September). During this period, | he was allowed no communication | wanting, for, as already stated, the with his friends. His room was sentences had been drawn upon lighted day and night with candles, blanks signed by the monarch, of and he was served in strict silence which the viceroy had brought a by Spanish attendants, and guard- whole trunkful from Spain. The ed by Spanish soldiers. The cap- sentence against Egmont declared tain of the watch drew his curtain very briefly that the Duke of Alva, every midnight, and aroused him having read all the papers and evifrom sleep that he might be iden- dence in the case, had found the tified by the relieving officer. Count guilty of high treason. It was proved that Egmont had united with the confederates; that he had been a party to the accursed conspiracy of the Prince of Orange; that he had taken the rebel nobles under his protection, and that he had betrayed the Government and the Holy Catholic Church by his conduct in Flanders. Therefore the duke condemned him to be executed by the sword on the following day, and decreed that his head should be placed on high in a public place, there to remain until the duke should otherwise direct. The sentence against Count Horn was similar in language and purport. Count Horn was arrested upon the same occasion by Captain Salinas, as he was proceeding through the courtyard of the house, after the breaking up of the council. He was confined in another chamber of the mansion, and met with a precisely similar treatment to that experienced by Egmont. Upon the 23d September both were removed under a strong guard to the castle of Ghent. * * * * On the 3d, Counts Egmont and Horn were brought in a carriage from Ghent to Brussels, guarded by ten companies of infantry and one of cavalry. They were then lodged in the "Brood-huis," opposite the town hall, on the great square of Brussels. On the 4th, Alva having, as he solemnly declared before God and the world, examined thoroughly the mass of documents appertaining to those two great prosecutions, which had only been closed three days before, pronounced sentence against the illustrious prisoners. These documents of iniquity, signed and sealed by the Duke, were sent to the Blood-Council, where they were read by Secretary Praets. The signature of Philip was not That afternoon the Duke sent for the Bishop of Ypres. The prelate arrived at dusk. As soon as he presented himself, Alva informed him of the sentence which had just been pronounced, and ordered him to convey the intelligence to the prisoners. He further charged him with the duty of shriving the victims, and preparing their souls for death. The Bishop fell on his knees, aghast at the terrible decree. He implored the Governor-General to have mercy upon the two unfortunate nobles. If their lives could not wretched woman was obliged to withdraw. Too soon afterward the horrible truth of the words was revealed to her-words of doom, which she had mistaken for consolation. be spared, he prayed him at any | paltering oracles of antiquity, the rate to grant delay. With tears and earnest supplications the prelate endeavoured to avert or to postpone the doom which had been pronounced. It was in vain. The sentence, inflexible as destiny, had been long before ordained. Its execution had been but hastened by the temporary triumph of rebellion in Friesland. Alva told the Bishop roughly that he had not been summoned to give advice. Delay or pardon was alike impossible. He was to act as confessor to the criminals, not as councillor to the viceroy. The bishop, thus rebuked, withdrew to accomplish his melancholy mission. Meanwhile, on the same evening, the miserable Countess of Egmont had been appalled by rumours, too vague for belief, too terrible to be slighted. She was in the chamber of Countess Aremberg, with whom she had come to condole for the death of the Count, when the order for the immediate execution of her own husband was announced to her. She hastened to the presence of the Governor-General. The Princess Palatine, whose ancestors had been emperors, remembered only that she was a wife and a mother. She fell at the feet of the man who controlled the fate of her husband, and implored his mercy in humble and submissive terms. The Duke, with calm and almost incredible irony, reassured the countess by the information that, on the morrow, her husband was certainly to be released. With this ambiguous phrase, worthy the An hour before midnight the Bishop of Ypres reached Egmont's prison. The count was confined in a chamber on the second storey of the Brood-huis, the mansion of the cross-bowmen's guild, in that corner of the building which rests on a narrow street running back from the great square. He was aroused from his sleep by the ap proach of his visitor. Unable to speak, but indicating by the expression of his features the occurrence of a great misfortune, the bishop, soon after his entrance, placed the paper given to him by Alva in Egmont's hands. The unfortunate noble thus suddenly received the information that his death-sentence had been pronounced, and that its execution was fixed for the next morning. He read the paper through without flinching, and expressed astonishment rather than dismay at its tidings. Exceedingly sanguine by nature, he had never believed, even after his nine months' imprisonment, in a fatal termination to the difficulties in which he was involved. He was now startled both at the sudden condemnation which had followed his lingering trial, and at the speed with which his death was to fulfil the sentence. He asked the bishop, with many expressions of amazement, whether |