first carefully studied a billet of most minute and
secret instructions from his master as to the deportment
he was to observe upon this solemn occasion and afterwards.
This paper, written in Philip’s own hand, had
been delivered to Eboli on the very day of his visit
to Bergen, and bore the superscription that it was
not to be read nor opened till the messenger who brought
it had left his presence. It directed the Prince,
if it should be evident Marquis was past recovery,
to promise him, in the King’s name, the permission
of returning to the Netherlands. Should, however,
a possibility of his surviving appear, Eboli was only
to hold out a hope that such permission might eventually
be obtained. In case of the death of Bergen,
the Prince was immediately to confer with the Grand
Inquisitor and with the Count of Feria, upon the measures
to be taken for his obsequies. It might seem
advisable, in that event to exhibit the regret which
the King and his ministers felt for his death, and
the great esteem in which they held the nobles of the
Netherlands. At the same time, Eboli was further
instructed to confer with the same personages as to
the most efficient means for preventing the escape
of Baron Montigny; to keep a vigilant eye upon his
movements, and to give general directions to governors
and to postmasters to intercept his flight, should
it be attempted. Finally, in case of Bergen’s
death, the Prince was directed to despatch a special
messenger, apparently on his own responsibility, and
as if in the absence and without the knowledge of
the King, to inform the Duchess of Parma of the event,
and to urge her immediately to take possession of
the city of Bergen-op-Zoom, and of all other property
belonging to the Marquis, until it should be ascertained
whether it were not possible to convict him, after
death, of treason, and to confiscate his estates accordingly.
Such were the instructions of Philip to Eboli, and
precisely in accordance with the program, was the
horrible comedy enacted at the death-bed of the envoy.
Three days after his parting interview with his disinterested
friend, the Marquis was a corpse.—Before
his limbs were cold, a messenger was on his way to
Brussels, instructing the Regent to sequestrate his
property, and to arrest, upon suspicion of heresy,
the youthful kinsman and niece, who, by the will of
the Marquis, were to be united in marriage and to
share his estate. The whole drama, beginning
with the death scene, was enacted according to order:
Before the arrival of Alva in the Netherlands, the
property of the Marquis was in the hands of the Government,
awaiting the confiscation,—which was but
for a brief season delayed, while on the other hand,
Baron Montigny, Bergen’s companion in doom,
who was not, however, so easily to be carried off by
homesickness, was closely confined in the alcazar of
Segovia, never to leave a Spanish prison alive.
There is something pathetic in the delusion in which
Montigny and his brother, the Count Horn, both indulged,
each believing that the other was out of harm’s
way, the one by his absence from the Netherlands,
the other by his absence from Spain, while both, involved
in the same meshes, were rapidly and surely approaching
their fate.