to follow the words of my directions from England is not enough, except I likewise see into your minds.  And surely mine eyesight is not so good.  But I will pray to God for his help herein.  With all the wit I have, I will use all the care I can—­first, to satisfy her Majesty, as God knoweth I have ever most desired; then, not to hurt this cause, but that I despair of.”  Leicester, as maybe supposed, had been much discomfited and perplexed during the course of these contradictory and perverse directions.  There is no doubt whatever that his position bad been made discreditable and almost ridiculous, while he was really doing his best, and spending large sums out of his private fortune to advance the true interests of the Queen.  He had become a suspected man in the Netherlands, having been, in the beginning of the year, almost adored as a Messiah.  He had submitted to the humiliation which had been imposed upon him, of being himself the medium to convey to the council the severe expressions of the Queen’s displeasure at the joint action of the States-General and himself.  He had been comforted by the affectionate expressions with which that explosion of feminine and royal wrath had been succeeded.  He was now again distressed by the peremptory command to do what was a disgrace to him, and an irreparable detriment to the cause, yet he was humble and submissive, and only begged to be allowed, as a remedy for all his anguish, to return to the sunlight of Elizabeth’s presence.  He felt that her course; if persisted in, would lead to the destruction of the Netherland commonwealth, and eventually to the downfall of England; and that the Provinces, believing themselves deceived by the Queen; were ready to revolt against an authority to which, but a short time before, they were so devotedly loyal Nevertheless, he only wished to know what his sovereign’s commands distinctly were, in order to set himself to their fulfilment.  He had come from the camp before Nymegen in order to attend the conference with the state-council at Arnheim, and he would then be ready and anxious to, despatch Heneage to England, to learn her Majesty’s final determination.

He protested to the Queen that he had come upon this arduous and perilous service only, because he, considered her throne in danger, and that this was the only means of preserving it; that, in accepting the absolute government, he had been free from all ambitious motives, but deeply impressed with the idea that only by so doing could he conduct the enterprise entrusted to him to the desired consummation; and he declared with great fervour that no advancement to high office could compensate him for this enforced absence from her.  To be sent back even in disgrace would still be a boon to him, for he should cease to be an exile from her sight.  He knew that his enemies had been busy in defaming him, while he had been no longer there to defend himself, but his conscience acquitted him of any thought which was not for her happiness and glory.  “Yet grievous it is to me,” said he in, a tone of tender reproach, “that having left all—­yea, all that may be imagined—­for you, you have left me for very little, even to the uttermost of all hard fortune.  For what have I, unhappy man, to do here either with cause or country but for you?”