views, that the right of revision remained but nominal.  There could be no possibility of collision where the subaltern was only anxious to surpass an incomparable superior.  The figure of Vargas rises upon us through the mist of three centuries with terrible distinctness.  Even his barbarous grammar has not been forgotten, and his crimes against syntax and against humanity have acquired the same immortality.  “Heretici fraxerunt templa, boni nihili faxerunt contra, ergo debent omnes patibulare,” was the comprehensive but barbarous formula of a man who murdered the Latin language as ruthlessly as he slaughtered his contemporaries.

Among the ciphers who composed the rest of the board, the Flemish Councillor Hessels was the one whom the Duke most respected.  He was not without talent or learning, but the Duke only valued him for his cruelty.  Being allowed to take but little share in the deliberations, Hessels was accustomed to doze away his afternoon hours at the council table, and when awakened from his nap in order that he might express an opinion on the case then before the court, was wont to rub his eyes and to call out “Ad patibulum, ad patibulum,” ("to the gallows with him, to the gallows with him,”) with great fervor, but in entire ignorance of the culprit’s name or the merits of the case.  His wife, naturally disturbed that her husband’s waking and sleeping hours were alike absorbed with this hangman’s work, more than once ominously expressed her hope to him, that he, whose head and heart were thus engrossed with the gibbet, might not one day come to hang upon it himself; a gloomy prophecy which the Future most terribly fulfilled.

The Council of Blood, thus constituted, held its first session on the 20th September, at the lodgings of Alva.  Springing completely grown and armed to the teeth from the head of its inventor, the new tribunal—­at the very outset in possession of all its vigor—­forthwith began to manifest a terrible activity in accomplishing the objects of its existence.  The councillors having been sworn to “eternal secrecy as to any thing which should be transacted at the board, and having likewise made oath to denounce any one of their number who should violate the pledge,” the court was considered as organized.  Alva worked therein seven hours daily.  It may be believed that the subordinates were not spared, and that their office proved no sinecure.  Their labors, however, were not encumbered by antiquated forms.  As this supreme and only tribunal for all the Netherlands had no commission or authority save the will of the Captain-General, so it was also thought a matter of supererogation to establish a set of rules and orders such as might be useful in less independent courts.  The forms of proceeding were brief and artless.  There was a rude organization by which a crowd of commissioners, acting as inferior officers of the council, were spread over the provinces, whose business was to collect information concerning all persons who might be incriminated for participation in the recent troubles.  The greatest crime, however, was to be rich, and one which could be expiated by no virtues, however signal.  Alva was bent upon proving himself as accomplished a financier as he was indisputably a consummate commander, and he had promised his master an annual income of 500,000 ducats from the confiscations which were to accompany the executions.