Granvelle—­as he must now be called, for his elevation to the cardinalship will be immediately alluded to—­wrote to assure the King that every pains would be taken to ferret out and execute the individuals complained of.  He bewailed, however, the want of heartiness on the part of the Netherland inquisitors and judges.  “I find,” said he, “that all judicial officers go into the matter of executing the edicts with reluctance, which I believe is caused by their fear of displeasing the populace.  When they do act they do it but languidly, and when these matters are not taken in hand with the necessary liveliness, the fruit desired is not gathered.  We do not fail to exhort and to command them to do their work.”  He added that Viglius and Berlaymont displayed laudable zeal, but that he could not say as much for the Council of Brabant.  Those councillors “were forever prating,” said he, “of the constitutional rights of their province, and deserved much less commendation.”

The popularity of the churchman, not increased by these desperate exertions to force an inhuman policy upon an unfortunate nation, received likewise no addition from his new elevation in rank.  During the latter part of the year 1560, Margaret of Parma, who still entertained a profound admiration of the prelate, and had not yet begun to chafe under his smooth but imperious dominion, had been busy in preparing for him a delightful surprise.  Without either his knowledge or that of the King, she had corresponded with the Pope, and succeeded in obtaining, as a personal favor to herself, the Cardinal’s hat for Anthony Perrenot.  In February, 1561, Cardinal Borromeo wrote to announce that the coveted dignity had been bestowed.  The Duchess hastened, with joyous alacrity, to communicate the intelligence to the Bishop, but was extremely hurt to find that he steadily refused to assume his new dignity, until he had written to the King to announce the appointment, and to ask his permission to accept the honor.  The Duchess, justly wounded at his refusal to accept from her hands the favor which she, and she only, had obtained for him, endeavored in vain to overcome his pertinacity.  She represented that although Philip was not aware of the application or the appointment, he was certain to regard it as an agreeable surprise.  She urged, moreover, that his temporary refusal would be misconstrued at Rome, where it would certainly excite ridicule, and very possibly give offence in the highest quarter.  The Bishop was inexorable.  He feared, says his panegyrist, that he might one day be on worse terms than at present with the Duchess, and that then she might reproach him with her former benefits.  He feared also that the King might, in consequence of the step, not look with satisfaction upon him at some future period, when he might stand in need of his favors.  He wrote, accordingly, a most characteristic letter to Philip, in which he informed him that he had been honored with the Cardinal’s hat.  He observed that many persons were already congratulating him, but that before he made any demonstration of accepting or refusing, he waited for his Majesty’s orders:  upon his will he wished ever to depend.  He also had the coolness, under the circumstances, to express his conviction that “it was his Majesty who had secretly procured this favor from his Holiness.”