History of the United Netherlands, 1588a | Page 2

of anxious
expectation, when dangers were rolling up from the south till not a ray
of light or hope could pierce the universal darkness, that the little
commonwealth was left without a chief. The English Earl departed,
shaking the dust from his feet; but he did not resign. The supreme
authority--so far as he could claim it--was again transferred,--with his
person, to England.
The consequences were immediate and disastrous. All the Leicestrians
refused to obey the States-General. Utrecht, the stronghold of that party,
announced its unequivocal intention to annex itself, without any
conditions whatever, to the English crown, while, in Holland, young
Maurice was solemnly installed stadholder, and captain-general of the
Provinces, under the guidance of Hohenlo and Barneveld. But his
authority was openly defied in many important cities within his
jurisdiction by military chieftains who had taken the oaths of allegiance
to Leicester as governor, and who refused to renounce fidelity to the
man who had deserted their country, but who had not resigned his
authority. Of these mutineers the most eminent was Diedrich Sonoy,
governor of North Holland, a soldier of much experience, sagacity, and
courage, who had rendered great services to the cause of liberty and
Protestantism, and had defaced it by acts of barbarity which had made
his name infamous. Against this refractory chieftain it was necessary
for Hohenlo and Maurice to lead an armed force, and to besiege him in
his stronghold-- the important city of Medenblik--which he resolutely
held for Leicester, although Leicester had definitely departed, and
which he closed against Maurice, although Maurice was the only
representative of order and authority within the distracted
commonwealth. And thus civil war had broken out in the little
scarcely-organized republic, as if there were not dangers and bloodshed
enough impending over it from abroad. And the civil war was the
necessary consequence of the Earl's departure.
The English forces--reduced as they were by sickness, famine, and
abject poverty--were but a remnant of the brave and well-seasoned
bands which had faced the Spaniards with success on so many

battle-fields.
The general who now assumed chief command over them--by direction
of Leicester, subsequently confirmed by the Queen--was Lord
Willoughby. A daring, splendid dragoon, an honest, chivalrous, and
devoted servant of his Queen, a conscientious adherent of Leicester,
and a firm believer in his capacity and character, he was, however, not
a man of sufficient experience or subtlety to perform the various tasks
imposed upon him by the necessities of such a situation. Quick-witted,
even brilliant in intellect, and the bravest of the brave on the battle-field,
he was neither a sagacious administrator nor a successful commander.
And he honestly confessed his deficiencies, and disliked the post to
which he had been elevated. He scorned baseness, intrigue, and petty
quarrels, and he was impatient of control. Testy, choleric, and
quarrelsome, with a high sense of honour, and a keen perception of
insult, very modest and very proud, he was not likely to feed with
wholesome appetite upon the unsavoury annoyances which were the
daily bread of a chief commander in the Netherlands. "I ambitiously
affect not high titles, but round dealing," he said; "desiring rather to be
a private lance with indifferent reputation, than a colonel-general
spotted or defamed with wants." He was not the politician to be
matched against the unscrupulous and all-accomplished Farnese; and
indeed no man better than Willoughby could illustrate the enormous
disadvantage under which Englishmen laboured at that epoch in their
dealings with Italians and Spaniards. The profuse indulgence in
falsehood which characterized southern statesmanship, was more than a
match for English love of truth. English soldiers and negotiators went
naked into a contest with enemies armed in a panoply of lies. It was an
unequal match, as we have already seen, and as we are soon more
clearly to see. How was an English soldier who valued his knightly
word--how were English diplomatists--among whom one of the most
famous--then a lad of twenty, secretary to Lord Essex in the
Netherlands--had poetically avowed that "simple truth was highest
skill," --to deal with the thronging Spanish deceits sent northward by
the great father of lies who sat in the Escorial?
"It were an ill lesson," said Willoughby, "to teach soldiers the,
dissimulations of such as follow princes' courts, in Italy. For my own
part, it is my only end to be loyal and dutiful to my sovereign, and plain

to all others that I honour. I see the finest reynard loses his best coat as
well as the poorest sheep." He was also a strong Leicestrian, and had
imbibed much of the Earl's resentment against the leading politicians of
the States. Willoughby was sorely in need of council. That shrewd and
honest Welshman--Roger Williams--was, for the moment, absent.
Another of the same race and character commanded in