But it is clear to see that the ambassador himself is as much in the dark as every one else, for he prays his master to instruct him what attitude he is to assume, “as the matter has made great noise here, and no doubt elsewhere.” To this the king coldly replied that no more was to be said about it. Ruy Gomez was less reticent. He told the French and English ambassadors in Spain that the prince’s mind was as defective as his body, and had been getting steadily worse. The king had dissembled as long as he could, in the hope of improvement, but the prince’s violence had now become intolerable, and it had been necessary to place him under restraint. Dr. Man, the English ambassador, fully agreed that the step had become inevitable, as did all the ambassadors then resident in Madrid. “It was not a punishment,” wrote Philip to his aunt and mother-in-law, the grandmother of Don Carlos, “if it were, there would be some limit to it; but I never hope to see my son restored to his right mind again. I have chosen in this matter to make a sacrifice to God of my own flesh and blood, preferring His service and the universal good to all other human considerations.” It was a humiliating position for Philip, who had been so dutiful a son himself, and had such far-reaching ambitions to hand down to his heir. It is not surprising that he avoided reference to it as much as possible. Some sort of trial or examination of the prince took place in secret before Ruy Gomez, Cardinal Espinosa, and Muñatones, but the documents have never been found. The rumour that Carlos plotted against his father’s life was repudiated vigorously by the king and his ministers, but that he had been disobedient and rebellious is certain, and probably this was the foundation of the charge of treason brought against him. The Protestant party, in France and Flanders especially, were willing enough to wound Philip and discredit the Inquisition by saying that Carlos was punished for supposed Protestant leanings; and even in Spain such things were cautiously whispered. There is, however, not the slightest indication that such was really the case from the papers of the prince himself and those who surrounded him, unless perhaps the letter from his friend and almoner, Suarez, to him, in which he reproaches him for not going to confession, and warns him that if he persisted in his present course every one would think him mad; “things so terrible, that in the case of other persons they have caused the Inquisition to inquire whether they were Christians.” Certainly to all appearance the prince was as devout a Catholic as his father, and the idea of attributing to this epileptic imbecile elevated ideas of political and religious reform is obviously absurd.