“It is neither wise nor honourable to retreat in sight of the enemy,” remarked the Captain General coldly. He turned his horse and rode up to M. Beverningh, and touched him on the arm.
“Mynheer,” he said curtly and decidedly, “there has been enough talking.”
They all looked at him.
“What is your wish?” asked Count Struym eagerly. “It seems to me, Highness, we have no course open but to fight.”
“There is Utrecht,” answered the Prince. “I mean to save Utrecht.”
The Deputies were silent. They wished, above all things, to avoid responsibility. William eyed them; he saw perfectly well that they would neither sanction nor veto his plans, and that whatever course he took they would blame him if it proved disastrous, and take the credit if it ended in success. Divided authority placed both sides in a difficult position, but if the Deputies hesitated the Captain General’s decision was prompt and unshakable.
His scheme was to remain and face the French with three regiments of cavalry, thereby distracting them from Utrecht, which town Count Struym, with the rest of the army of the States, was to reach in a détour by way of Maartensdyk and Maarsen.
It was hoped that before midday reinforcements would arrive from Schoonhoven and Gouda; these, attacking the rear of the enemy, would enable the Prince to withdraw the rest of his army along the road to Utrecht, which Count Struym must keep open, and throw himself into that town before the French bombarded the fortifications.
If these tactics savoured of desperation, the situation was such as called for desperate expedients, and no one dared withstand them. Some encouragement was afforded by the fact that the rising ground would disguise from the enemy that the stand the Dutch offered covered the retreat of the greater portion of their forces, and it was reasonably hoped that the French would not suspect that any attempt was being made to save Utrecht.
At half-past seven Count Struym drew off with the bulk of the army and the larger number of the Deputies.