artful demon wrote was filled with hints as to the danger of the King’s learning the existence of the correspondence, and with promises of profound secrecy upon his own part, and was then immediately placed in Philip’s hands, to receive his comments and criticisms, before being copied and despatched to the Netherlands.  The minister was playing a bold, murderous, and treacherous game, and played it in a masterly manner.  Escovedo was lured to his destruction, Don John was made to fret his heart away, and Philip—­more deceived than all—­was betrayed in what he considered his affections, and made the mere tool of a man as false as himself and infinitely more accomplished.

Almost immediately after the arrival of Don John in the Netherlands; he had begun to express the greatest impatience for Escovedo, who had not been able to accompany his master upon his journey, but without whose assistance the Governor could accomplish none of his undertakings.  “Being a man, not an angel, I cannot do all which I have to do,” said he to Perez, “without a single person in whom I can confide.”  He protested that he could do no more than he was then doing.  He went to bed at twelve and rose at seven, without having an hour in the day in which to take his food regularly; in consequence of all which he had already had three fevers.  He was plunged into a world of distrust.  Every man suspected him, and he had himself no confidence in a single individual throughout that whole Babylon of disgusts.  He observed to Perez that he was at liberty to show his letters to the King, or to read them in the Council, as he meant always to speak the truth in whatever he should write.  He was sure that Perez would do all for the best; and there is something touching in these expressions of an honest purpose towards Philip, and of generous confidence in Perez, while the two were thus artfully attempting to inveigle him into damaging revelations.  The Netherlanders certainly had small cause to love or trust their new Governor, who very sincerely detested and suspected them, but Philip had little reason to complain of his brother.  “Tell me if my letters are read in Council, and what his Majesty says about them,” he wrote; “and, above all, send money.  I am driven to desperation at finding myself sold to this people, utterly unprovided as I am, and knowing the slow manner in which all affairs are conducted in Spain.”

He informed the King that there was but one man in the Netherlands, and that he was called the Prince of Orange.  To him everything was communicated, with him everything was negotiated, opinions expressed by him were implicitly followed.  The Governor vividly described the misgivings with which he had placed himself in the power of the states by going to Louvain, and the reluctance with which he had consented to send away the troops.  After this concession, he complained that the insolence of the states had increased.  “They think that they can do