shame and
dishonour will be hers."
And with these parting words the Earl committed himself to the December
seas.
Davison had been meantime doing his best to prepare the way in the
Netherlands for the reception of the English administration. What man
could do, without money and without authority, he had done. The governors
for Flushing and the Brill, Sir Philip Sidney and Sir Thomas Cecil,
eldest son of Lord Burghley, had been appointed, but had not arrived.
Their coming was anxiously looked for, as during the interval the
condition of the garrisons was deplorable. The English treasurer--by some
unaccountable and unpardonable negligence, for which it is to be feared
the Queen was herself to blame--was not upon the spot, and Davison was
driven out of his wits to devise expedients to save the soldiers from
starving.
"Your Lordship has seen by my former letters," wrote the Ambassador to
Burghley from Flushing, "what shift I have been driven to for the relief
of this garrison here, left 'a l'abandon;' without which means they had
all fallen into wild and shameful disorder, to her Majesty's great
disgrace and overthrow of her service. I am compelled, unless I would see
the poor men famish, and her Majesty dishonoured, to try my poor credit
for them."
General Sir John Norris was in the Betuwe, threatening Nvymegen, a town
which he found "not so flexible as he had hoped;" and, as he had but two
thousand men, while Alexander Farnese was thought to be marching upon him
with ten thousand, his position caused great anxiety. Meantime, his
brother, Sir Edward, a hot-headed and somewhat wilful young man, who
"thought that all was too little for him," was giving the sober Davison a
good deal of trouble. He had got himself into a quarrel, both with that
envoy and with Roger Williams, by claiming the right to control military
matters in Flushing until the arrival of Sidney. "If Sir Thomas and Sir
Philip," said Davison, "do not make choice of more discreet, staid, and
expert commanders than those thrust into these places by Mr. Norris, they
will do themselves a great deal of worry, and her Majesty a great deal of
hurt."
As might naturally be expected, the lamentable condition of the English
soldiers, unpaid and starving--according to the report of the Queen's
envoy himself--exercised anything but a salutary influence upon the minds
of the Netherlanders and perpetually fed the hopes of the Spanish
partizans that a composition
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