Two other of his relations, the Prince Rebecq-Montmorency and the Marshal Van Isenghien, visited him secretly, and offered him poison, as a means of evading the disgrace of a public execution. On his refusing to take it, they left him with high indignation. “Miserable man!” said they, “you are fit only to perish by the hand of the executioner!”
The Marquis de Créqui sought the executioner of Paris, to bespeak an easy and decent death—for the unfortunate youth. “Do not make him suffer,” said he; “uncover no part of him but the neck; and have his body placed in a coffin, before you deliver it to his family.” The executioner promised all that was requested, but declined a rouleau of a hundred louis-d’ors which the Marquis would have put into his hand. “I am paid by the king for fulfilling my office,” said he; and added that he had already refused a like sum, offered by another relation of the Marquis.
The Marquis de Créqui returned home in a state of deep affliction. There he found a letter from the Duke de St. Simon, the familiar friend of the Regent, repeating the promise of that prince, that the punishment of the wheel should be commuted to decapitation.
“Imagine,” says the Marchioness de Créqui, who in her memoirs gives a detailed account of this affair, “imagine what we experienced, and what was our astonishment, our grief, and indignation, when, on Tuesday, the 26th of March, an hour after midday, word was brought us that the Count Van Horn had been exposed on the wheel, in the Place de Gréve, since half-past six in the morning, on the same scaffold with the Piedmontese de Mille, and that he had been tortured previous to execution!”
One more scene of aristocratic pride closed this tragic story. The Marquis de Créqui, on receiving this astounding news, immediately arrayed himself in the uniform of a general officer, with his cordon of nobility on the coat. He ordered six valets to attend him in grand livery, and two of his carriages, each with six horses, to be brought forth. In this sumptuous state, he set off for the Place de Gréve, where he had been preceded by the Princes de Ligne, de Rohan, de Croüy, and the Duke de Havré.
The Count Van Horn was already dead, and it was believed that the executioner had had the charity to give him the coup de grace, or “death-blow,” at eight o’clock in the morning. At five o’clock in the evening, when the Judge Commissary left his post at the Hotel de Ville, these noblemen, with their own hands, aided to detach the mutilated remains of their relation; the Marquis de Crequi placed them in one of his carriages, and bore them off to his hotel, to receive the last sad obsequies.
The conduct of the Regent in this affair excited general indignation. His needless severity was attributed by some to vindictive jealousy; by others to the persevering machinations of Law. The house of Van Horn, and the high nobility of Flanders and Germany, considered themselves flagrantly outraged: many schemes of vengeance were talked of, and a hatred engendered against the Regent, that followed him through life, and was wreaked with bitterness upon his memory after his death.
The following letter is said to have been written to the Regent by the Prince Van Horn, to whom the former had adjudged the confiscated effects of the Count:
“I do not complain, Sir, of the death of my brother, but I complain that your Royal Highness has violated in his person the rights of the kingdom, the nobility, and the nation. I thank you for the confiscation of his effects; but I should think myself as much disgraced as he, should I accept any favor at your hands. I hope that God and the King may render to you as strict justice as you have rendered to my unfortunate brother.”