with the boldness of innocence. He protested, of course, to the
jurisdiction, and complained of the want of an advocate, not in order to
excuse any weakness in his defence, but only any inelegance in his
statement. He then proceeded flatly to deny some of the facts, to admit
others, and to repel the whole treasonable inference. His answer in all
essential respects was triumphant. Supported by the evidence which, alas
was not collected and published till after his death, it was impregnable.

He denied that he had ever plotted against his King, to whom he had ever
been attached, but admitted that he had desired the removal of Granvelle,
to whom he had always been hostile. He had, however, been an open and
avowed enemy to the Cardinal, and had been engaged in no secret
conspiracy against his character or against his life. He denied that the
livery (for which, however, he was not responsible) had been intended to
ridicule the Cardinal, but asserted that it was intended to afford an
example of economy to an extravagant nobility. He had met Orange and
Egmont at Breda and Hoogstraaten, and had been glad to do so, for he had
been long separated from them. These interviews, however, had been
social, not political, for good cheer and merry-making, not for
conspiracy and treason. He had never had any connection with the
confederacy; he had neither advised nor protected the petition, but, on
the contrary, after hearing of the contemplated movement, had written to
give notice thereof to the Duchess. He was in no manner allied, with
Brederode, but, on the contrary, for various reasons, was not upon
friendly terms with him. He had not entered his house since his return
from Spain. He had not been a party to the dinner at Culemburg House.
Upon that day he had dined with the Prince of Orange, with whom he was
lodging and, after dinner, they had both gone together to visit Mansfeld,
who was confined with an inflamed eye. There they had met Egmont, and
the three had proceeded together to Culemburg House in order to bring