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 and undo what they like, now that I am at their mercy,” he wrote to Philip.  “Nevertheless, I do what you command without regarding that I am sold, and that I am in great danger of losing, my liberty, a loss which I dread more than anything in the world, for I wish to remain justified before God and men.”  He expressed, however, no hopes as to the result.  Disrespect and rudeness could be pushed no further than it had already gone, while the Prince of Orange, the actual governor of the country, considered his own preservation dependent upon maintaining things as they then were.  Don John, therefore, advised the King steadily to make preparations for “a rude and terrible war,” which was not to be avoided, save by a miracle, and which ought not—­to find him in this unprepared state.  He protested that it was impossible to exaggerate the boldness which the people felt at seeing him thus defenseless.  “They say publicly,” he continued, “that your Majesty is not to be feared, not being capable of carrying on a war, and having consumed and exhausted every resource.  One of the greatest injuries ever inflicted upon us was by Marquis Havre, who, after his return from Spain, went about publishing everywhere the poverty of the royal exchequer.  This has emboldened them to rise, for they believe that, whatever the disposition, there is no strength to chastise them.  They see a proof of the correctness of their reasoning in the absence of new levies, and in the heavy arrearages due to the old troops.”