History of the United Netherlands, 1588a | Page 6

it a more formidable undertaking. They were many
hours traversing the four miles to Oudenburg, their first halting-place;
for the waters were out, there having been a great breach of the
sea-dyke of Ostend, a disaster threatening destruction to town and
country. At Oudenburg, a "small and wretched hole," as Garnier had
described it to be, there was, however, a garrison of three thousand
Spanish soldiers, under the Marquis de Renti. From these a convoy of
fifty troopers was appointed to protect the English travellers to Bruges.
Here they arrived at three o'clock, were met outside the gates by the
famous General La Motte, and by him escorted to their lodgings in the
"English house," and afterwards handsomely entertained at supper in
his own quarters.
The General's wife; Madame de la Motte, was, according to Cecil, "a
fair gentlewoman of discreet and modest behaviour, and yet not
unwilling sometimes to hear herself speak;" so that in her society, and
in that of her sister--"a nun of the order of the Mounts, but who, like the
rest of the sisterhood, wore an ordinary dress in the evening, and might
leave the convent if asked in marriage"--the supper passed off very
agreeably.
In the evening Cecil found that his father had formerly occupied the
same bedroom of the English hotel in which he was then lodged; for he
found that Lord Burghley had scrawled his name in the
chimney-corner--a fact which was highly gratifying to the son.
The next morning, at seven o'clock, the travellers set forth for Ghent.
The journey was a miserable one. It was as cold and gloomy weather as
even a Flemish month of March could furnish. A drizzling rain was
falling all day long, the lanes were foul and miry, the frequent thickets
which overhung their path were swarming with the freebooters of
Zeeland, who were "ever at hand," says Cecil, "to have picked our
purses, but that they descried our convoy, and so saved themselves in
the woods." Sitting on horseback ten hours without alighting, under
such circumstances as these, was not luxurious for a fragile little
gentleman like Queen Elizabeth's "pigmy;" especially as Dr. Dale and
himself had only half a red herring between them for luncheon, and

supped afterwards upon an orange. The envoy protested that when they
could get a couple of eggs a piece, while travelling in Flanders, "they
thought they fared like princes."
Nevertheless Cecil and himself fought it out manfully, and when they
reached Ghent, at five in the evening, they were met by their
acquaintance Garnier, and escorted to their lodgings. Here they were
waited upon by President Richardot, "a tall gentleman," on behalf of
the Duke of Parma, and then left to their much-needed repose.
Nothing could be more forlorn than the country of the obedient
Netherlands, through which their day's journey had led them.
Desolation had been the reward of obedience. "The misery of the
inhabitants," said Cecil, "is incredible, both without the town, where all
things are wasted, houses spoiled, and grounds unlaboured, and also,
even in these great cities, where they are for the most part poor beggars
even in the fairest houses."
And all this human wretchedness was the elaborate work of one
man--one dull, heartless bigot, living, far away, a life of laborious ease
and solemn sensuality; and, in reality, almost as much removed from
these fellow-creatures of his, whom he called his subjects, as if he had
been the inhabitant of another planet. Has history many more
instructive warnings against the horrors of arbitrary
government--against the folly of mankind in ever tolerating the rule of
a single irresponsible individual, than the lesson furnished by the
life-work of that crowned criminal, Philip the Second?
The longing for peace on the part of these unfortunate obedient
Flemings was intense. Incessant cries for peace reached the ears of the
envoys on every side. Alas, it would have been better for these
peace-wishers, had they stood side by side with their brethren, the
noble Hollanders and Zeelanders, when they had been wresting, if not
peace, yet independence and liberty, from Philip, with their own right
hands. Now the obedient Flemings were but fuel for the vast flame
which the monarch was kindling for the destruction of Christendom--if
all Christendom were not willing to accept his absolute dominion.
The burgomasters of Ghent--of Ghent, once the powerful, the
industrious, the opulent, the free, of all cities in the world now the most
abject and forlorn--came in the morning to wait upon Elizabeth's envoy,
and to present him, according to ancient custom, with some flasks of

wine. They came with tears streaming down their cheeks, earnestly
expressing the desire of their hearts for peace, and their joy that at least
it had now "begun to be thought on."
"It is quite