cutcheon and banners were hung upon the
outward wall of his residence, by order of the Countess. By command of
Alva they were immediately torn down. His remains were afterwards
conveyed to his city of Sottegem, in Flanders, where they were interred.
Count Horn was entombed at Kempen. The bodies had been removed from the
scaffold at two o'clock. The heads remained exposed between burning
torches for two hours longer. They were then taken down, enclosed in
boxes, and, as it was generally supposed, despatched to Madrid. The King
was thus enabled to look upon the dead faces of his victims without the
trouble of a journey to the provinces.

Thus died Philip Montmorency, Count of Horn, and Lamoral of Egmont,
Prince of Gaveren. The more intense sympathy which seemed to attach
itself to the fate of Egmont, rendered the misfortune of his companion in
arms and in death comparatively less interesting.

Egmont is a great historical figure, but he was certainly not a great
man. His execution remains an enduring monument not only of Philip's
cruelty and perfidy but of his dullness. The King had everything to hope
from Egmont and nothing to fear. Granvelle knew the man well, and, almost
to the last, could not believe in the possibility of so unparalleled a
blunder as that which was to make a victim, a martyr, and a popular idol
of a personage brave indeed, but incredibly vacillating and inordinately
vain, who, by a little management, might have been converted into a most
useful instrument for the royal purposes.

It is not necessary to recapitulate the events of Egmont's career. Step
by step we have studied his course, and at no single period have we
discovered even a germ of those elements which make the national
champion. His pride of order rendered him furious at the insolence of
Granvelle, and caused him to chafe under his dominion. His vanity of high
rank and of distinguished military service made him covet the highest
place under the Crown, while his hatred of those by whom he considered
himself defrauded of his claims, converted him into a malcontent. He had
no sympathy with the people, but he loved, as a grand Seignior, to be
looked up to and admired by a gaping crowd. He was an unwavering
Catholic, held sectaries in utter loathing, and, after the
image-breaking, took a positive pleasure in hanging ministers, together
with their congregations, and in pressing the besieged Christians of
Valenciennes to extremities. Upon more