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