History of the United Netherlands, 1588a | Page 7

true," replied Dr. Dale, "that her excellent Majesty the
Queen--filled with compassion for your condition, and having been
informed that the Duke of Parma is desirous of peace--has vouchsafed
to make this overture. If it take not the desired effect, let not the blame
rest upon her, but upon her adversaries." To these words the
magistrates all said Amen, and invoked blessings on her Majesty. And
most certainly, Elizabeth was sincerely desirous of peace; even at
greater sacrifices than the Duke could well have imagined; but there
was something almost diabolic in the cold dissimulation by which her
honest compassion was mocked, and the tears of a whole people in its
agony made the laughingstock of a despot and his tools.
On Saturday morning, Richardot and Garnier waited upon the envoy to
escort him to the presence of the Duke. Cecil, who accompanied him,
was not much impressed with the grandeur of Alexander's lodgings;
and made unfavourable and rather unreasonable comparisons between
them and the splendour of Elizabeth's court. They passed through an
ante-chamber into a dining-room, thence into an inner chamber, and
next into the Duke's room. In the ante-chamber stood Sir William
Stanley, the Deventer traitor, conversing with one Mockett, an
Englishman, long resident in Flanders. Stanley was meanly dressed, in
the Spanish fashion, and as young Cecil, passing through the chamber,
looked him in the face, he abruptly turned from him, and pulled his hat
over his eyes. "'Twas well he did so," said that young gentleman, "for
his taking it off would hardly have cost me mine." Cecil was informed
that Stanley was to have a commandery of Malta, and was in good
favour with the Duke, who was, however, quite weary of his mutinous
and disorderly Irish regiment.
In the bed-chamber, Farnese--accompanied by the Marquis del Guasto,
the Marquis of Renty, the Prince of Aremberg, President Richardot,
and Secretary Cosimo--received the envoy and his companion. "Small
and mean was the furniture of the chamber," said Cecil; "and although
they attribute this to his love of privacy, yet it is a sign that peace is the
mother of all honour and state, as may best be perceived by the court of
England, which her Majesty's royal presence doth so adorn, as that it

exceedeth this as far as the sun surpasseth in light the other stars of the
firmament."
Here was a compliment to the Queen and her upholsterers drawn in by
the ears. Certainly, if the first and best fruit of the much-longed-for
peace were only to improve the furniture of royal and ducal apartments,
it might be as well perhaps for the war to go on, while the Queen
continued to outshine all the stars in the firmament. But the budding
courtier and statesman knew that a personal compliment to Elizabeth
could never be amiss or ill-timed.
The envoy delivered the greetings of her Majesty to the Duke, and was
heard with great attention. Alexander attempted a reply in French,
which was very imperfect, and, apologizing, exchanged that tongue for
Italian. He alluded with great fervour to the "honourable opinion
concerning his sincerity and word," expressed to him by her Majesty,
through the mouth of her envoy. "And indeed," said he, "I have always
had especial care of keeping my word. My body and service are at the
commandment of the King, my lord and master, but my honour is my
own, and her Majesty may be assured that I shall always have especial
regard of my word to so great and famous a Queen as her Majesty."
The visit was one of preliminaries and of ceremony. Nevertheless
Farnese found opportunity to impress the envoy and his companions
with his sincerity of heart. He conversed much with Cecil, making
particular and personal inquiries, and with appearance of deep interest,
in regard to Queen Elizabeth.
"There is not a prince in the world--" he said, "reserving all question
between her Majesty and my royal master--to whom I desire more to do
service. So much have I heard of her perfections, that I wish earnestly
that things might so fall out, as that it might be my fortune to look upon
her face before my return to my own country. Yet I desire to behold her,
not as a servant to him who is not able still to maintain war, or as one
that feared any harm that might befall him; for in such matters my
account was made long ago, to endure all which God may send. But, in
truth, I am weary to behold the miserable estate of this people, fallen
upon them through their own folly, and methinks that he who should do
the best offices of peace would perform a 'pium et sanctissimum opus.'
Right glad am I that the Queen is not