l.

Facing all the details of his execution with the fortitude which belonged
to his character, he now took counsel with his confessor as to the
language proper for him to hold from the scaffold to the assembled
people. The Bishop, however, strongly dissuaded him from addressing the
multitude at all.

The persons farthest removed, urged the priest, would not hear the words,
while the Spanish troops in the immediate vicinity would not understand
them. It seemed, therefore, the part of wisdom and of dignity for him to
be silent, communing only with his God. The Count assented to this
reasoning, and abandoned his intention of saying a few farewell words to
the people, by many of whom he believed himself tenderly beloved. He now
made many preparations for the morrow, in order that his thoughts, in the
last moments, might not be distracted by mechanical details, cutting the
collar from his doublet and from his shirt with his own hands, in order
that those of the hangman might have no excuse for contaminating his
person. The rest of the night was passed in prayer and meditation.

Fewer circumstances concerning the last night of Count Horn's life have
been preserved. It is, however, well ascertained that the Admiral
received the sudden news of his condemnation with absolute composure. He
was assisted at his devotional exercises in prison by the curate of La
Chapelle.

During the night, the necessary preparations for the morning tragedy had
been made in the great square of Brussels. It was the intention of
government to strike terror to the heart of the people by the exhibition
of an impressive and appalling spectacle. The absolute and irresponsible
destiny which ruled them was to be made manifest by the immolation of
these two men, so elevated by rank, powerful connexion, and distinguished
service.

The effect would be heightened by the character of the, locality where
the gloomy show was to be presented. The great square of Brussels had
always a striking and theatrical aspect. Its architectural effects,
suggesting in some degree the meretricious union between Oriental and a
corrupt Grecian art, accomplished in the medieval midnight, have amazed
the eyes of many generations. The splendid Hotel de Ville, with its
daring spire and elaborate front, ornamented one side of the place;
directly opposite was the graceful but incoherent facade of the
Brood-huis, now the last earthly resting-place of the two distinguished
victims,