The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1577 part 1 | Page 2

them.

Escovedo shared in the sentiments and entered fully into the schemes
of his chief. The plot, the secret enterprise, was the great cause of the
advent of Don John in the uncongenial clime of Flanders. It had been,
therefore, highly important, in his estimation, to set, as soon as possible,
about the accomplishment of this important business. He accordingly
entered into correspondence with Antonio Perez, the King's most
confidential Secretary of State at that period. That the Governor was
plotting no treason is sufficiently obvious from the context of his letters:
At the same time, with the expansiveness of his character, when he was
dealing with one whom he deemed has close and trusty friend, he
occasionally made use of expressions which might be made to seem
equivocal. This was still more the case with poor Escovedo. Devoted to
his master, and depending most implicitly upon the honor of Perez, he
indulged in language which might be tortured into a still more
suspicious shape when the devilish arts of Perez and the universal
distrust of Philip were tending steadily to that end. For Perez--on the
whole, the boldest, deepest, and most unscrupulous villain in that pit of
duplicity, the Spanish court--was engaged at that moment with Philip,
in a plot to draw from Don John and Escovedo, by means of this
correspondence, the proofs of a treason which the King and minister
both desired to find. The letters from Spain were written with this
view--those from Flanders were interpreted to that end. Every
confidential letter received by Perez was immediately laid by him
before the King, every letter which the 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 and undo what they like, now that I am at their mercy,"
he wrote