They were practical, not theoretical; historical, not philosophical.  Still, such as they were, they were facts, acquisitions.  They had been purchased by the blood and toil of brave ancestors; they amounted—­however open to criticism upon broad humanitarian grounds, of which few at that day had ever dreamed—­to a solid, substantial dyke against the arbitrary power which was ever chafing and fretting to destroy its barriers.  No men were more subtle or more diligent in corroding the foundation of these bulwarks than the disciples of Granvelle.  Yet one would have thought it possible to tolerate an amount of practical freedom so different from the wild, social speculations which in later days, have made both tyrants and reasonable lovers of our race tremble with apprehension.  The Netherlanders claimed, mainly, the right to vote the money which was demanded in such enormous profusion from their painfully-acquired wealth; they were also unwilling to be burned alive if they objected to transubstantiation.  Granvelle was most distinctly of an opposite opinion upon both topics.  He strenuously deprecated the interference of the states with the subsidies, and it was by his advice that the remorseless edict of 1550, the Emperor’s ordinance of blood and fire, was re-enacted, as the very first measure of Philip’s reign.  Such were his sentiments as to national and popular rights by representation.  For the people itself—­“that vile and mischievous animal called the people”—­as he expressed it, he entertained a cheerful contempt.

His aptitude for managing men was very great; his capacity for affairs incontestable; but it must be always understood as the capacity for the affairs of absolutism.  He was a clever, scheming politician, an adroit manager; it remained to be seen whether he had a claim to the character of a statesman.  His industry was enormous.  He could write fifty letters a day with his own hand.  He could dictate to half a dozen amanuenses at once, on as many different subjects, in as many different languages, and send them all away exhausted.

He was already rich.  His income from his see and other livings was estimated, in 1557, at ten thousand dollars—­[1885 approximation.  The decimal point more places to the right would in 2000 not be out of line.  D.W.]—­; his property in ready money, “furniture, tapestry, and the like,” at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.  When it is considered that, as compared with our times, these sums represent a revenue of a hundred thousand, and a capital of two millions and a half in addition, it may be safely asserted that the prelate had at least made a good beginning.  Besides his regular income, moreover, he had handsome receipts from that simony which was reduced to a system, and which gave him a liberal profit, generally in the shape of an annuity, upon every benefice which he conferred.  He was, however, by no means satisfied.  His appetite was as boundless as the sea; he was still a shameless