Chapter VI: Part 6

"Their progress was as certain as destiny. He could not be mistaken
in the idea, that our flag was destined to shed its lustre over
every hill and plain on the Pacific slope, and on every stream that
mingles with the Pacific. What would monarchical institutions
do--what would tyrants do--in this age of improvement--_this age of
steam and lightning? The still small voice in our legislative
halls_ and seminaries of learning, would soon be re-echoed in
distant lands. Should we fold our arms and refuse, under all these
circumstances, to discharge our duty? No; let us march steadily up
to this duty, and discharge it like men;

'And the gun of our nation's natal day
At the rise and set of sun,
Shall boom from the far north-east away
To the vales of Oregon.
And ships on the seashore luff and tack,
And send the peal of triumph back.'"

Mr Stanton, a Democratic representative from the slave state of Tennessee--Polk's own--observes, that war about Oregon

"Would be another crime of fearful magnitude added to that already
mountainous mass of fraud and havoc by which England has heretofore
extended her power, and by which she now maintains it. _Did some
gentlemen say that her crimes were represented by a vast pyramid of
human skulls? I say, sir, rather by a huge pyramid of human hearts,
living, yet bleeding in agony, as they are torn from the reeking
bosoms of the toiling, fighting millions._"

Peace, this person observes, is rather nearer his heart than any thing else, but

"If she must depart, if she is destined to take her sad flight from
earth to heaven again, then welcome the black tempest of war.
Welcome its terrors, its privations, its wounds, its deaths! We
will sternly bare our bosoms to its deadliest shock, and trust in
God for the result."

After all this, our readers will be little surprised to find that a Mr Gordon, from the rich and partially civilized state of New York, whose commercial relations with us are of such magnitude and importance, makes an ass of himself with the best of them.

"The next war with Great Britain will expel her from this
continent. Though a peace-loving people, we are, when aroused in
defensive warfare, the most warlike race ever clad in armour. Let
war come, if it will come, boldly and firmly will we meet its
shock, and roll back its wave on the fast anchored isle of Britain,
and dash its furious flood over those who raised the storm, but
could not direct its course. In a just war, as this would be on our
part, the sound of the clarion would be the sweetest music that
could greet our ears!... _I abhor and detest the British
Government._ Would to God that the British people, the Irish, the
Scotch, the Welsh, and the English, would rise up in rebellion,
sponge out the national debt, confiscate the land, and sell it in
small parcels among the people. _Never in the world will they reach
the promised land of equal rights, except through a red sea of
blood._ Let Great Britain declare war, and I fervently hope that
the British people, at least the Irish, will seize the occasion to
rise and assert their independence.... I again repeat, that _I
abhor that government; I abhor that purse-proud and pampered
aristocracy, with its bloated pension-list, which for centuries
past has wrung its being from the toil, the sweat, and the blood of
that people._"

Mr Bunkerhoff, from Ohio, and his people--

"Would a great deal rather fight Great Britain than some other
powers, for _we do not love her_. We hear much said about the ties
of our common language, our common origin, and our common
recollections, binding us together. But I say, _we do not love
Great Britain at all; at least my people do not, and I do not_. A
common language! It has been made the vehicle of an incessant
torrent of abuse and misrepresentation of our men, our manners, and
our institutions, and even our women--it might be vulgar to
designate our plebeian girls as _ladies_--have not escaped it; and
all this is popular, and encouraged in high places."

Mr Chipman, from Michigan, thus whistles Yankee-doodle, with the usual thorough-base accompaniment of self-conceit:--

"Reflecting that from three millions we had increased to twenty
millions, we could not resist the conclusion, that Yankee
enterprise and vigour--he used the term Yankee in reference to the
whole country--were destined to spread our possessions and
institutions over the whole country. Could any act of the
government prevent this? He must be allowed to say, that wherever
the Yankee slept for a night, there he would rule. What part of
the globe had not been a witness of their moral power, and to the
light reflected from their free institutions?" * * * *

Your Yankee proper can no more "get along" without his spice of cant, than without his chew of tobacco and his nasal twang. What follows, however, took even us by surprise:--

"Should we crouch to the British lion, because we had been thus
prosperous? He remembered the time when education, the pride of the
northern Whigs, was made the means of opposition to the democracy.
He recollected the long agony that it cost him to relieve his mind
from federal thraldom. EDUCATION WAS AN INSTRUMENT TO RIDICULE AND
PUT DOWN DEMOCRACY."

What Mr Chipman would do--_if_--

"I appeal to high Heaven, that if a British fleet were anchored off
here, in the Potomac, and demanded of us one inch of territory, or
one pebble that was smoothed by the Pacific wave into a child's
toy, upon penalty of an instant bombardment, I would say fire." * *
* * "Now he (Mr C.) lived on the frontier. He remembered when
Detroit was sacked. Then we had a Hull in Michigan; but now, thank
God, we had a Lewis Cass, who would protect the border if war
should come, which, in his opinion, would not come. There were
millions on the lake frontier who would, in case of war, rush over
into Canada--the vulnerable point that was exposed to us. _He would
pledge himself, that, upon a contract with the government, Michigan
alone would take Canada in ninety days; and, if that would not do,
they would give it up, and take it in ninety days again._ The
Government of the United States had only to give the frontier
people leave to take Canada."

Though Michigan has the benefit of this hero's councils, he is at the pains to inform us that Vermont, a New England state, claims his birth, parentage, and education--a fact which we gladly record on the enduring page of Maga for the benefit of the future compiler of the Chipman annals. He closes an oration, scarcely, if at all, inferior to that of Sims, with a melodious tribute to the land of his nativity.

"If Great Britain went to war for Oregon, how long would it be
before her starving millions would rise in infuriated masses, and
overwhelm their bloated aristocracy! He would say, then, if war
should come--

'Hurrah for Vermont! for the land which we till
Will have some to defend her from valley and hill;
Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it grows,
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes.

'Come Mexico, England! come tyrant, come knave,
If you rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our grave!
Our vow is recorded--our banner unfurl'd,
_In the name of Vermont, we defy all the world!_'"

_Magnifique--superbe--pretty well!_ Would not the world like to know something of the resources of this unknown anthropophagous state which throws down the gauntlet so boldly? Well, in this very year of grace, the population of Vermont amounts to no less than 300,000 souls of all ages, sexes, and colours! She pays her governor the incredible sum of L150 a-year. Her exports in 1840 amounted to L60,000. Every thing about her is on the same homoeopathic scale, except her heroes!

We have by no means exhausted our file, but our patience is expended, and so we fear is that of our readers. We write this in the city of New York, in the first week of February, and the debate is still proceeding in a tone, if possible, still more outrageous and absurd. The most astounding feature of the whole is, that the "collective wisdom" of any country professing to be civilized, can come together day after day and listen to such trash, without censure--without even the poor penalty of a sneer.

The Americans complain that they have been grievously misrepresented by the British press. Mrs Trollope, Mr Dickens, and other authors, are no doubt very graphic and clever in their way; but in order to do this people full justice, they must be allowed to represent themselves. A man must go amongst them fully to realize how hopeless and deplorable a state of things is that phase of society which halts betwixt barbarism and civilization, and is curiously deficient in the virtues of both. If he wishes to form a low idea of his species, let him spend a week or two at Washington; let him go amongst the little leaders of party in that preposterous capital, watch their little tricks, the rapacity with which they clutch the meanest spoils and wonder how political profligacy grows fat upon diet so meagre and uninviting. He will come away with a conviction, already indorsed by the more respectable portion of the American community, that their government is the most corrupt under the sun; but he will not, with them, lay the flattering notion to his soul, that the people of whom such men are the chosen representatives and guides, are likely to contribute much to the aggregate of human happiness, freedom, and civilization.

As to the denunciations of Great Britain, so thickly strewn through these _carmina non prius audita_ of the Congressional muse, we are sure they will excite no feeling in our readers but that of pity and contempt, and that comment upon them is unnecessary. The jealousy of foreign nations towards the arts and arms of his country, is no new experience to the travelled Englishman. Still, as the Americans have no reason to be particularly sore on the subject of our arms, and as they appropriate our arts, at a very small expense, to themselves, they might afford, we should think, to let the British lion alone, and glorify themselves without for ever shaking their fists in the face of that magnanimous beast. In a political point of view, however, the deep-seated hostility of this people towards the British government, is a fact neither to be concealed nor made light of. From a somewhat extended personal observation, the writer of this is convinced that war at any time, and in any cause, would be popular with a large majority of the inhabitants of the United States. It is in vain to oppose to their opinion the interests of their commerce, and the genius of their institutions, so unsuited to schemes of warlike aggrandizement. The government of the United States is in the hands of the mob, which has as little to lose there as elsewhere, by convulsion of any kind.

We are willing to believe that the person who at present fills the Presidential chair at Washington, is fully alive to the responsibilities of his situation, and would gladly allay the storm which himself and his party have heretofore formed for their own most unworthy purposes. He knows full well that the dispute is in itself of the most trumpery nature; that the course of Great Britain has been throughout moderate and conciliatory to the last degree; that the military and financial position of the United States is such as to forbid a warlike crisis; and that, if hostilities were to ensue betwixt Great Britain and his country, no time could be more favourable to the former than the present. Yet, with all these inducements to peace, we fear he will find it impossible to bring matters to a satisfactory termination. But should an opportunity occur of taking us at disadvantage--should we find ourselves, for instance, involved in war with any powerful European nation--we may lay our account to have this envious and vindictive people on our backs. We are not, therefore, called upon to anticipate the trial, and to take the course of events into our own hands; but still less ought we to make any concessions, however trifling, which may retard, but will eventually exasperate, our difficulties. Much is in our power on the continent of North America, if we are but true to our own interests and to those of mankind. We should cherish to the utmost that affectionate and loyal spirit, which at present so eminently distinguishes our flourishing colony of Canada; we should look to it, that such a form of government be established in Mexico as shall at once heal her own dissensions, and guarantee her against the further encroachments of her neighbours; and we should invite other European nations to join with us in informing the populace of the United States, that they cannot be indulged in the gratification of those predatory interests, which the public opinion of the age happily denies to the most compact despotisms and the most powerful empires.

ANTONIO PEREZ.

As often as we revisit the fair city of Brussels, an irresistible attraction leads us from the heights crowned with its modern palaces, down among the localities of the valley beneath, the seat and scene of so many of the old glories of the capital of the Netherlands. On these occasions our steps unconsciously deviate a little from the direct line of descent, turning off on the left hand towards the Hotel d'Aremberg. But it is not to saunter through the elegant interior of this princely mansion, and linger over exquisite pictures and rare Etruscan vases, that we then approach it. Our musing eye sees not the actual walls shining with intolerable whiteness in the fierce summer-sun, but the towers of an ancient edifice, long ago demolished by the pitiless Alva, which once, as the Hotel de Cuylembourg, covered the same site. Beneath its roof the Protestant Confederates, in 1566, drew up their memorable "Request" to Margaret of Parma; and at one of its windows these "Beggars," being dismissed with such contumelious scorn from the presence of the Regent, nobly converted the stigma into a war-cry; and, with the wallet of the "Gueux" slung across their shoulders, drank out of wooden porringers a benison on the cause of the emancipation of the United Provinces. So prompted to think of these stirring times, we are carried by the steep declivity of a few streets to that magnificent Town Hall, where, only eleven years before the occurrences in the Hotel Cuylembourg, Charles V. had resigned into the hands of his son Philip the sovereignty of an extensive and flourishing empire. All that could be achieved by the energy of a mind confident of its own force and clearness--by a strong will wielding enormous resources of power--by prudence listening to, and able to balance, cautious experience, and fearless impetuosity--and by consummate skill in the art of government, had been laboriously and successfully achieved by Charles. To Philip he transferred the most fertile, delightful, opulent, and industrious countries of Europe--Spain and the Netherlands, Milan and Naples. His African possessions included Tunis and Oran, the Cape Verd and Canary islands. The Moluccas, the Philippine and Sunda islands heaped his storehouses with the spices, and fruits, and prolific vegetable riches of the Indian Ocean; while from the New World, the mines of Mexico, Chili, and Potosi poured into his treasury their tributary floods of gold. His mighty fleet was still an invincible armada; and his army, inured to war, and accustomed to victory under heroic captains, upheld the wide renown of the Spanish infantry. But neither the abilities nor the auspicious fortunes of Charles were inherited with this vast dominion by Philip. It is almost a mystery the crumbling away during his reign of such wealth and such strength. To read the riddle, we must know Philip. The biography which we shall now hurriedly sketch, of one of his most eminent favourites and ministers, who was, also, one of the most remarkable men that ever lived, enables us to see further into the breast of the gloomy, jealous, and cruel king, than we could hope to do by the less penetrating light of general history.

It was in the course of the year 1594, that the mother of the great Lord Bacon wrote bitterly to his brother Anthony--"Tho' I pity your brother, yet so long as he pities not himself, but keepeth that bloody PEREZ, yea, as a coach-companion and bed-companion, a proud, profane, costly fellow, whose being about him I verily fear the Lord God doth mislike, and doth less bless your brother in credit, and otherwise in his health, surely I am utterly discouraged, and make conscience further to undo myself to maintain such wretches as he is, that never loved your brother but for his own credit, living upon him."

This dark portrait, even from the pencil of maternal anxiety, is not overcharged with shade. A few words, which could not have been uttered by the Lady Bacon except as a prophetess, we may add in reference to the meeting of the famous Englishman and the notorious Spaniard. At that moment the public life of Francis Bacon was faintly dawning. The future Minister of State and Chancellor of England had just entered the House of Commons, and was whining for promotion at the gate of the royal favourite. The mean subservience of his nature was to be afterwards developed in its repulsive fulness. His scheming ambition saw itself far away from the ermine of justice, doomed to be spotted by his corruption. He had not then betrayed, and brought to the scaffold, and slandered his benefactor. The power and honours of which he was to be stripped, were yet to be won. His glory and his shame alike were latent. He was beginning hazardously a career of brilliant and dismal vicissitudes, to finish it with a halo of immortal glory blazing round his name.

But such a career along a strange parallelism of circumstances, although with a gloomier conclusion, Antonio Perez had already run. The unscrupulous confidant and reckless tool of a crafty and vindictive tyrant, he had wielded vast personal authority, and guided the movements of an immense empire.

"Antonio Perez, secretary of state," said one of his
contemporaries, "is a pupil of Ruy Gomez. He is very discreet and
amiable, and possesses much authority and learning. By his
agreeable manners, he goes on tampering and disguising much of the
disgust which people would feel at the king's slowness and sordid
parsimony. Through his hands have passed all the affairs of Italy,
and also those of Flanders, ever since this country has been
governed by Don Juan, who promotes his interests greatly, as do,
still more, the Archbishop of Toledo and the Marquis de Los Valez.
He is so clever and capable that he must become the king's
principal minister. He is thin, of delicate health, rather
extravagant, and fond of his advantages and pleasures. He is
tenacious of being thought much of, and of people offering him
presents."

To gratify, by one dreadful blow, a cruel king and a guilty passion, he murdered his friend. The depth of his misery soon rivalled and exceeded the eminence of his prosperity. Hurled from his offices and dignities, deprived of the very title of nobility, condemned by the civil, and excommunicated by the ecclesiastical tribunals, cast into prison, loaded with irons, put to the torture, hunted like a wild beast out of his own country and many a nook of refuge in other lands, Perez, who had been "the most powerful personage in the Spanish monarchy," was, when we first meet him in the company of Bacon, an exile in penury. And so he died, an impoverished outcast, leaving to posterity a name which befits, if it cannot adorn, a tale, and may well point a moral.

The "bloody" Perez was the natural son of Gonzalo Perez, who was for a long time Secretary of State to Charles V. and Philip II. Of his mother nothing is known. The conjectures of scandal are heightened and perplexed by the fact that he was ennobled when a child, and that, amidst all the denunciations of his overbearing behaviour and insufferable arrogance, he is never reproached with the baseness of his maternal lineage. Legitimated in infancy by an imperial diploma, Antonio was literally a courtier and politician from his cradle.

"Being of a quick understanding, an insinuating character, and a
devotedness which knew neither bounds nor scruples, full of
expedients, a nervous and elegant writer, and expeditious in
business, he had gained the favour of Philip II., who had gradually
given him almost his entire confidence. He was, with Cayas, one of
the two secretaries of the council of state, and was charged
principally with the _despacho universal_; that is, with the
counter-sign and the conduct of the diplomatic correspondence and
the royal commands. Philip imparted to him his most secret designs,
initiated him into his private thoughts; and it was Perez who, in
deciphering the despatches, separated the points to be communicated
to the council of state for their opinion, from those which the
king reserved for his exclusive deliberation. Such high favour had
intoxicated him. He affected even towards the Duke of Alva, when
they met in the king's apartments at dinner, a silence and a
haughtiness which revealed at once the arrogance of enmity and the
infatuation of fortune. So little moderation in prosperity, coupled
with the most luxurious habits, a passion for gaming, a craving
appetite for pleasures, and excessive expenses, which reduced him
to receive from every hand, excited against him both envy and
animosity in the austere and factious court of Philip II.; and, on
the first opportunity, inevitably prepared his downfal. This event,
too, he himself hastened by serving too well the distrustful
passions of Philip, and, perhaps, even by exciting them beyond
measure against two men of his own party, Don Juan of Austria and
his secretary Escovedo."

It is impossible to imagine that the character of Philip was not fathomed by Perez. The peril of his position, as the depositary of the innermost secrets of the king, could not have escaped his acute mind. The treachery of his daily services, to which, in the words we have quoted, allusion is made, must have perpetually reminded him how probably he was preparing for himself the ruin which before his own eyes had struck and destroyed more than one of his predecessors. At the same time, the bent of his disposition carried him readily enough into intrigue, deceit, and cool remorseless villany. He was not retarded by any scruple, or abashed by any principle. But he did not lack sagacity. The power which he loved and abused was acquired and retained easily, because the exercise of his talents had always been quite in harmony with the natural flexion of his mind. In the conduct of public affairs, Philip never had a minister who more dexterously conformed reasons and actions of policy to the will, or prejudices, or passions of the sovereign. All the extravagance, and even towards so terrible an enemy as Alva, all the insolence of Perez, could hardly have shaken his security. From what he knew, and what he had done, Philip, it is true, might at any moment be tempted to work his downfal, if not his death; but, in consequence of that very knowledge and his very deeds, the value of such an adviser and such a tool was almost sure to protract and avert his doom. The disgrace and misfortune, therefore, of Perez, however enveloped afterwards in the mantle of political delinquency, are to be traced to more strictly personal causes. It is a curious, interesting, and horrible story.

The memorable struggle of the Netherlands against the domination of Spain was at its height. The flames kindled by the ferocity of Alva had not been extinguished by his milder but far less able successor, the Grand Commander Requesens, who sank under the harassing pressure of the difficulties which encompassed him. Upon his death, the Spanish court, alive to the momentous issues of the contest, invoked the services of one of the most celebrated men of the age. Don John of Austria, who saved Europe and Christianity at the Gulf of Lepanto, and had repeatedly humbled the Crescent in its proudest fortresses, was chosen to crush the rebellious Flemings. The appointment was hardly made, when clouds of distrust began to roll over the spirit of Philip. The ambition of his brother was known and troublesome to him, as he had baffled but two years before a project which Don John took little pains to conceal, and even induced the Pope to recommend, of converting his conquest of Tunis into an independent sovereignty for himself. Believing these alarming aspirations to be prompted by the Secretary Juan de Soto, whom Ruy Gomez had placed near his brother, Philip removed Soto and substituted ESCOVEDO, on whose fidelity he relied, and who received secret instructions to divert, as far as possible, the dreams of Don John from sceptres and thrones. But a faithless master taught faithlessness to his servants. Escovedo, neglecting the counsels of Philip, entered cordially into the views and schemes of Don John, until the sagacious vigilance of Antonio Perez startled the jealousy of the Spanish monarch by the disclosure, that Don John intended, and was actually preparing to win and wear the crown of England. Such a prospect, there can be no doubt, tore his sullen soul with bitter recollections, and made him resolve, more sternly than ever, that the haughty island should groan beneath no yoke but his own. The mere subjugation of England by Spanish arms, and the occupation of its throne by a Spaniard, not himself, were insufficient to glut the hatred, and avenge the insulted majesty of Philip. For his own hands and his own purposes he reserved the task; and at a later period, the wreck of the Armada strewed the shores of Britain with memorials of his gigantic and innocuous malignity. Dissembling, however, his displeasure, he permitted Don John to expect, when the Netherlands had been pacified, his approval of the invasion of England.

"At the same time, to become acquainted with all his brother's
designs, and watch the intrigues of Escovedo, he authorized Perez,
who was the confidant of the one and the friend of the other, to
correspond with them, to enter into their views, to appear to gain
his favour for them, to speak even very freely of him, in order to
throw them the more off their guard, and afterwards to betray their
secrets to him. Perez sought, or, at the very least, accepted this
odious part. He acted it, as he himself relates, with a shameless
devotion to the king, and a studied perfidy towards Don Juan and
Escovedo. He wrote letters to them, which were even submitted to
the inspection of Philip, and in which he did not always speak
respectfully of that prince; he afterwards communicated to Philip
the bold despatches of Escovedo, and the effusions of Don Juan's
restless and desponding ambition. In forwarding to the king a
letter from Escovedo, he at once boasts, and clears himself of this
disloyal artifice. 'Sire,' says he, 'it is thus one must listen and
answer for the good of your service; people are held much better
thus at sword's length; and one can better do with them whatever is
conducive to the interest of your affairs. But let your majesty use
good precaution in reading these papers; for, if my artifice is
discovered, I shall no longer be good for any thing; and shall have
to discontinue the game. Moreover, I know very well that, for my
duty and conscience, I am doing, in all this, nothing but what I
ought; and I need no other theology than my own to comprehend it.'
The king answers--'Trust, in every thing, to my circumspection. My
theology understands the thing just as yours does, and considers
not only that you are doing your duty, but that you would have been
remiss towards God and man, had you not done so, in order to
enlighten my understanding, as completely as is necessary, against
human deceits and upon the things of this world, at which I am
truly alarmed."

The laurels of the conqueror of the Turks drooped and withered in Flanders.

"This young and glorious captain found, in the provinces
confederated at Ghent, an incurable distrust both of the Spaniards
and himself. The profound and skilful policy of the Prince of
Orange raised obstacles against him which he could not surmount. In
spite of the moderate conditions which he offered to the assembled
States-General, he was received by them much less as a pacificator
than as an enemy. They refused to authorize the departure of the
Spanish troops by sea, fearing they might be employed against the
provinces of Holland and Zealand, and they required that they
should repair to Italy by land. Don Juan saw his designs upon
England, on this side, vanishing. Without authority, money, or any
means of establishing the domination of the king, his brother, and
of supporting his own renown, he took a disgust to a position which
offered him no issue. Accustomed, hitherto, to rapid and brilliant
enterprises, he desponded at his impotency; and already a prey to
gnawing cares, which were leading him slowly to the tomb, he
demanded his recall."

To enforce his complaints, Don John sent Escovedo to Spain. Redress was not granted, and his messenger never returned to him. The deadly correspondence between Perez and himself--the outpourings of an ardent and daring temper, swelling with lofty designs, and pining beneath an apparently irremediable inaction, into the ears of a frigid and false winnower of unguarded words and earnest feelings--was continued unremittingly. M. Mignet, it seems to us, shows very satisfactorily, that Perez, in his abominable office of an unjust interpreter of the wishes and intentions of Don John, drugged Philip copiously with calumnious reports and unwarrantable insinuations. Be that as it may, we are inclined to believe, among other matters of a very different complexion, that, without repugnance on the part of Philip, there was a tossing about for a time, in the lottery of events, a marriage between Don John and our beautiful and unfortunate Mary. There is a pleasure and a grace sometimes in idle speculation; but to the leisure of a happier fancy than ours we commit the picture of the consequences of an union between the heroic Don John and the lovely Queen of Scotland. "_Money, more money, and Escovedo_," became at length, in his perplexity and anguish, the importunate clamour of the governor of the Netherlands. Then it was, _as Perez tells us_, that Philip and his obsequious counsellors meditated on the course best fitted for what was evidently a serious conjecture. Then it was, we learn from the same authority, that the king determined ON THE DEATH OF ESCOVEDO.

"They took a review of the various schemes that had been planned in
favour of Prince Don Juan, ever since his residence in Italy,
without the king having any communication or perfect knowledge of
them; they called to mind the grievous disappointment experienced
by the authors of these projects, at the expedition to England not
taking place according to their first idea; the attempt they made a
second time, for the same object, with his Holiness, when they were
in Flanders, and always without giving the king any account; the
design of deserting the government of Flanders, when once the
expedition to England was abandoned; the secret understandings
formed in France without the king's knowledge; the resolution they
had formed, to prefer going as adventurers into France, with six
thousand foot and one thousand horse, to filling the highest
offices; lastly, the very strong language with which the prince, in
his letters, expressed his grief and despair. The result of all
this seemed, that there was reason to fear some great resolution,
and the execution of some great blow or other which might trouble
the public peace, and the tranquility of his majesty's states, and,
moreover, that Prince Don Juan might himself be ruined, if they let
the secretary, Escovedo, remain any longer with him."

What a gap there is in the whole truth in this story, on which Perez subsequently built his defence, we shall now briefly explain. With one considerable exception, historians concur in their belief of the amours of Perez with the Princess of Eboli. Ranke, who is satisfied with the political explanation given by Perez of the murder of Escovedo, discredits the notion of Perez being a lover of the princess, because she was old, and blind of one eye, and because his own wife, Dona Juana Coello, evinced towards him, throughout his trial, the most devoted and constant affection.

"The last reason," says our author, with perfect truth, "goes for nothing." The love of woman buries her wrongs without a tear. "As to the objection," M. Mignet proceeds to remark, "derived from the age and appearance of the Princess of Eboli, it has not much foundation either. All contemporary writers agree in praising her beauty (_hermosura_.) Born in 1540, she married Ruy Gomez at the age of thirteen, and was only thirty-eight years old at the present period. She was not one-eyed, but she squinted. There was nothing in her person to prevent the intimacy which Ranke discredits, but which numerous testimonies place beyond any doubt. I quote only the most important, waiving the presents which Perez had received from the princess, and which he was condemned to give back by a decree of justice."

It is too late now, we join M. Mignet in believing, to doubt or even to decry the personal charms of the Princess of Eboli, which the misty delirium of the poet may have magnified, or the expedient boldness of the romancer too voluptuously emblazoned, but which more than one grave annalist has calmly commemorated.[4] We shall not, however, venture to decide the nice question which oscillates between an obliquity and a loss of vision. The Spanish word "tuerto" means, ordinarily, "blind of one eye." And there is an answer which M. Mignet probably considers apocryphal, as he does not allude to it, said to have been made by Perez to Henry IV. of France, who expressed surprise that he should be so much the slave of a woman that had but one eye. "Sire," replied the ingeniously gallant Perez, "she set the world on fire with that; if she had preserved both, she would have consumed it." It is of little consequence. Any slight physical blemish or imperfection was more than counterbalanced by the wit and accomplishments of this seductive woman, whose enchantments, like those of Ninon de l'Enclos, defied the impairing inroads of old age.

It is unnecessary here to repeat or analyse the powerful concatenation of proofs by which her criminal intimacy with Perez is established. We may frankly admit, nevertheless, that the first perusal of the evidence did not convince us. The probability was strong that much would be exaggerated, perverted, and invented, before a partial tribunal, in order to annihilate a disgraced courtier, a fallen and helpless enemy. But the reasons which appear conclusively to fix culpability, will be better understood when the facts of the case are stated. Every witness must be branded with perjury to entitle us to doubt that the familiarity of Perez with the princess had attracted observation. Escovedo was aware of it, saw it, and denounced it. He remonstrated with both parties on their guilt and on their danger. The appeals to conscience and to fear were of unequal force. The guilt of their conduct was not likely to excite, in a couple abandoned to the indulgence of a mutual and violent passion, any emotion except anger against the honesty and audacity which rebuked them. By a grave discourse on breaches of decorum and morality, Escovedo ran the risk of being considered--what the princess actually declared him to be--a rude fellow and a _bore_. But the danger of their profligacy was a more delicate and ominous text for censure. In the peril of any public exposure was involved an additional complication of guilt. Perez was not the only favoured votary of the versatile siren. His rival, or rather his partner, was--Philip of Spain! The revelation of promiscuous worship, threatened by Escovedo, sounded like a knell to Perez and the princess. Was it a mad defiance, or a profound prescience, of the consequences, which, when Escovedo, stung on one occasion beyond forbearance by the demonstration of iniquity which Othello in his agony demands of Iago, declared loudly his purpose of divulging every thing to the king?--was it, we say, the fury or the shrewdness of despair which then drew _from the lady_ a reply of outrageous and coarse effrontery? The irrecoverable words being spoken, we think, with M. Mignet, that "the ruin of Escovedo, whose indiscretions were becoming formidable, was doubtless sworn, from this moment, by Perez and the princess."

We shall now, with some consciousness of superiority over the German, Feuerbach, whose common-place murders are flavourless for us, (who were fellow-citizens of Burke, and rode in an omnibus with Greenacre, just as Bacon had Perez for a coach-companion,) transcribe the minute continuous narrative of the assassination of Escovedo, taken down from the lips of Antonio Enriquez, the page and familiar of Antonio Perez:--

"'Being one day at leisure in the apartment of Diego Martinez the
major-domo of Antonio Perez, Diego asked me whether I knew any of
my countrymen who would be willing to stab a person with a knife.
He added, that it would be profitable and well paid, and that, even
if death resulted from the blow, it was of no consequence. I
answered, that I would speak of it to a mule-driver of my
acquaintance, as in fact I did, and the muleteer undertook the
affair. Afterwards, Diego Martinez gave me to understand, with
rather puzzling reasons, that it would be necessary to kill the
individual, who was a person of importance, and that Antonio Perez
would approve of it; on this I remarked that it was not an affair
to be trusted to a muleteer, but to persons of a better stamp. Then
Diego Martinez added, that the person to be killed often came to
the house, and that, if we could put any thing in his food or
drink, we must do so; because that was the best, surest, and most
secret means. It was resolved to have recourse to this method, and
with all dispatch.

"'During these transactions, I had occasion to go to Murcia. Before
my departure, I spoke of it to Martinez, who told me I should find,
in Murcia, certain herbs well adapted to our purpose; and he gave
me a list of those which I was to procure. In fact, I sought them
out and sent them to Martinez, who had provided himself with an
apothecary, whom he had sent for from Molina in Aragon. It was in
my house that the apothecary, assisted by Martinez, distilled the
juice of those herbs. In order to make an experiment of it
afterwards, they made a cock swallow some, but no effect followed;
and what they had thus prepared, was found to be good for nothing.
The apothecary was then paid for his trouble, and sent away.

"'A few days after, Martinez told me he had in his possession a
certain liquid fit to be given to drink, adding that Antonio Perez,
the secretary, would trust nobody but me, and that, during a repast
which our master was to give in the country, I should only have to
pour out some of this water for Escovedo, who would be among the
guests, and for whom the preceding experiments had already been
tried. I answered, that unless my master himself gave me the order,
I would not have a hand in poisoning any body. Then the secretary,
Anthony Perez, called me one evening in the country, and told me
how important it was for him that the secretary Escovedo should
die; that I must not fail to give him the beverage in question on
the day of the dinner: and that I was to contrive the execution of
it with Martinez; adding, moreover, good promises and offers of
protection in whatever might concern me.

"'I went away very contented, and consulted with Martinez as to the
measures to be taken. The arrangement for the dinner was as
follows: entering the house by the passage of the stables, which
are in the middle, and advancing into the first room, we found two
side-boards, one for the service of plates, and the other for that
of the glasses, from which we were to supply the guests with drink.
From the said room, on the left, we passed to that where the tables
were laid, and the windows of which looked out on the country.
Between the room where they were to dine, and that where the
side-boards stood, was a square room, serving as an antechamber and
passage. Whilst they were eating, I was to take care that every
time the secretary Escovedo asked for drink, I should be the person
to serve him. I had thus the opportunity of giving him some twice;
pouring the poisoned water into his wine at the moment I passed
through the antechamber, about a nutshell-full, as I had been
ordered. The dinner over, secretary Escovedo went away, but the
others remained to play, and Antonio Perez having gone out for a
moment, rejoined his major-domo and me in one of the apartments
over the court-yard, where we gave him an account of the quantity
of water that had been poured into secretary Escovedo's glass;
after which, he returned to play. We heard, afterwards, that the
beverage had produced no effect.

"'A few days subsequent to this ill success, secretary Antonio
Perez gave another dinner in what is called Cordon House, which
belonged to the count of Punon Rostro, where secretary Escovedo,
Dona Juana Coello, the wife of Perez, and other guests, were
present. Each of them was served with a dish of milk or cream, and
in Escovedo's was mixed a powder like flour. I gave him, moreover,
some wine mixed with the water of the preceding dinner. This time
it operated better, for secretary Escovedo was very ill, without
guessing the reason. During his illness, I found means for one of
my friends, the son of captain Juan Rubio, governor of the
principality of Melfi, and formerly Perez's major-domo (which son,
after having been page to Dona Juana Coello, was a scullion in the
king's kitchens), to form an acquaintance with secretary Escovedo's
cook, whom he saw every morning. Now, as they prepared for the sick
man a separate broth, this scullion, taking advantage of a moment
when nobody saw him, cast into it a thimble-full of a powder that
Diego Martinez had given him. When secretary Escovedo had taken
some of this food, they found that it contained poison. They
subsequently arrested one of Escovedo's female slaves who must have
been employed to prepare the pottage; and, upon this proof, they
hung her in the public square at Madrid, though she was innocent.

"'Secretary Escovedo having escaped all these plottings, Antonio
Perez adopted another plan, viz., that we should kill him some
evening with pistols, stilettoes, or rapiers, and that without
delay. I started, therefore, for my country, to find one of my
intimate friends, and a stiletto with a very thin blade, a much
better weapon than a pistol for murdering a man. I travelled post,
and they gave me some bills of exchange of Lorenzo Spinola at
Genoa, to get money at Barcelona, and which, in fact, I received on
arriving there.'

"Here Enriquez relates, that he enticed into the plot one of his
brothers, named Miguel Bosque, to whom he promised a sum of gold
and the protection of Perez; that they arrived at Madrid the very
day Escovedo's slave was hanged; that, during his absence, Diego
Martinez had fetched from Aragon, for the same object, two resolute
men, named Juan de Mesa and Insausti; that the very day after his
arrival, Diego Martinez had assembled them all four, as well as the
scullion Juan Rubio, outside Madrid, to decide as to the means and
the moment of the murder; that they had agreed upon this, that
Diego Martinez had procured them a sword, broad and fluted up to
the point, to kill Escovedo with, and had armed them all with
daggers; and that Antonio Perez had gone, during that time, to pass
the holy week at Alcala, doubtless with the intention of turning
suspicion from him when the death of Escovedo was ascertained. Then
Antonio Enriquez adds:--

"'It was agreed, that we should all meet every evening upon the
little square of Saint James (Jacobo), whence we should go and
watch on the side by which secretary Escovedo was to pass; which
was done. Insausti, Juan Rubio, and Miguel Bosque, were to waylay
him; while Diego Martinez, Juan de Mesa, and I, were to walk about
in the neighbourhood, in case our services should be required in
the murder. On Easter Monday, March 31, the day the murder was
committed, Juan de Mesa and I were later than usual in repairing to
the appointed spot, so that, when we arrived at St James's Square,
the four others had already started to lie in ambush for the
passing of secretary Escovedo. Whilst we were loitering about, Juan
de Mesa and I heard the report that Escovedo had been assassinated.
We then retired to our lodgings. Entering my room, I found Miguel
Bosque there, in his doublet, having lost his cloak and pistol; and
Juan de Mesa found, likewise, Insausti at his door, who had also
lost his cloak, and whom he let secretly into his house.'"

The quiet pertinacity which characterizes this deliberate murder adds a creditable chapter to the voluminous "Newgate Calendar" of the sixteenth century. The murderers--first, second, third, and fourth--having executed their commission, were rewarded with a dramatic appreciation of their merits. Miguel Bosque received a hundred gold crowns from the hand of the clerk in the household of Perez. Juan de Mesa was presented with a gold chain, four hundred gold crowns, and a silver cup, to which the Princess of Eboli added, in writing, a title of employment in the administration of her estates. Diego Martinez brought to the three others brevets, signed nineteen days after this deed of blood, by Philip II. and Perez, of _alfarez_, or ensign in the royal service, with an income of twenty gold crowns. They then smilingly dispersed, as the play directs, "you that way, I this way."

Such blood will not sink in the ground. Instantly, at a private audience granted to him by Philip, the son of Escovedo, impelled by a torrent of universal suspicion, charged his father's death home to Perez. On the same day, Philip communicated to Perez the accusation. No pictorial art, we are sure, could exhibit truly the faces of these two men, speaking and listening, at that conference. This, however, was the last gleam of his sovereign's confidence that ever shone on Perez. His secret and mortal enemy, Mathew Vasquez, one of the royal secretaries, having espoused the cause of the kinsmen of Escovedo, wrote to Philip, "People pretend that it was a great friend of the deceased who assassinated the latter, because he had found him interfering with his honour, and _on account of a woman_." The barbed missile flew to its mark, and rankled for ever.

Our limits preclude the most concise epitome of the next twelve years of the life of Perez, of which the protracted tribulations, indeed, cannot be related more succinctly and attractively than they are by M. Mignet. During this weary space of time, Perez, single-handed, maintained an energetic defensive warfare against the disfavour of a vindictive monarch, the oppression of predominant rivals, the insidious machinations and wild fury of relentless private revenge, the most terrific mockeries of justice, the blackest mental despondency, and exquisite physical suffering. Philip II. displayed all his atrocious feline propensities--alternately hiding and baring his claws--tickling his victim to-day with delusions of mercy and protection, in order to smite him on the morrow with heavier and unmitigated cruelty. The truth is, he did not dare to kill, while he had no desire to save. Over and over again, in the course of the monstrous burlesques which were enacted in judicial robes as legal inquiries, did Philip privately, both orally and in writing, exonerate and absolve the murderer. Prosecutors and judges were bridled and overawed--kinsmen were abashed--popular indignation was quelled by reiterated assurances and reports, that the confidential secretary of state had been the passive and faithful executioner of royal commands. Even Uncle Martin, the privileged court-fool, when the flight ultimately of Perez gave general satisfaction, though not to the implacable Philip, exclaimed openly--"Sire, who is this Antonio Perez, whose escape and deliverance have filled every one with delight? He cannot, then, have been guilty; rejoice, therefore, like other people." But the lucky rival--the happy lover, could not expiate his rank offence by any amount of sacrifice in person or estate. According to our view of these lingering scenes of rancorous persecution, Philip gradually habituated himself to gloat over the sufferings of Perez with the morbid rapture of monomania. So long as the wretched man was within his reach, he contemplated placidly the anguish inflicted on him by the unjust or excessive malevolence of his enemies. He repeatedly checked the prosecutions of the Escovedo family, and sanctioned their revival with as little difficulty as if he had never interposed on any former occasion. He relaxed at intervals the rigorous imprisonment under which Perez was gasping for the breath of life, granting him for nearly a twelvemonth so much liberty as to inflate a naturally buoyant temperament with inordinate hope; but, in that very period, instigated and approved of investigations and actions at law, which resulted in reducing Perez, in so far as wealth and honours were concerned, to beggary and rags. He threw into a dungeon Pedro de Escovedo, who talked unreservedly of his desire to assassinate Perez; and refused the fervent entreaties of Perez himself to remove, for a temporary relief, the fetters with which, when his ailing body could scarcely support its own weight, his limbs had been loaded. He sent Perez compassionate and encouraging messages, writing to him, "I will not forsake you, and be assured that their animosity (of the Escovedos) will be impotent against you;" while he regularly transmitted to Vasquez and the Escovedos the information which nourished and hardened their hatred. And finally, having constantly enjoined Perez to take heed that no one should discover the murder to have been perpetrated by the king, Philip, on the ground that he obstinately refused to make a full confession, imperturbably consigned him "to that dreadful proof, the revolting account of which," says M. Mignet, "I will quote from the process itself:"--