The people, however, persisted in identifying the Bishop with the scheme.  They saw that he was the head of the new institutions; that he was to receive the lion’s share of the confiscated abbeys, and that he was foremost in defending and carrying through the measure, in spite of all opposition.  That opposition waxed daily more bitter, till the Cardinal, notwithstanding that he characterised the arrangement to the King as “a holy work,” and warmly assured Secretary Perez that he would contribute his fortune, his blood, and his life, to its success, was yet obliged to exclaim in the bitterness of his spirit, “Would to God that the erection of these new sees had never been thought of.  Amen!  Amen!”

Foremost in resistance was the Prince of Orange.  Although a Catholic, he had no relish for the horrible persecution which had been determined upon.  The new bishoprics he characterized afterwards as parts “of one grand scheme for establishing the cruel inquisition of Spain; the said bishops to serve as inquisitors, burners of bodies; and tyrants of conscience:  two prebendaries in each see being actually constituted inquisitors.”  For this reason he omitted no remonstrance on the subject to the Duchess, to Granvelle, and by direct letters to the King.  His efforts were seconded by Egmont, Berghen, and other influential nobles.  Even Berlaymont was at first disposed to side with the opposition, but upon the argument used by the Duchess, that the bishoprics and prebends would furnish excellent places for his sons and other members of the aristocracy, he began warmly to support the measure.  Most of the labor, however, and all the odium, of the business fell upon the Bishop’s shoulders.  There was still a large fund of loyalty left in the popular mind, which not even forty years of the Emperor’s dominion had consumed, and which Philip was destined to draw upon as prodigally as if the treasure had been inexhaustible.  For these reasons it still seemed most decorous to load all the hatred upon the minister’s back, and to retain the consolatory formula, that Philip was a prince, “clement, benign, and debonair.”

The Bishop, true to his habitual conviction, that words, with the people, are much more important than things, was disposed to have the word “inquisitor” taken out of the text of the new decree.  He was anxious at this juncture to make things pleasant, and he saw no reason why men should be unnecessarily startled.  If the inquisition could be practised, and the heretics burned, he was in favor of its being done comfortably.  The word “inquisitor” was unpopular, almost indecent.  It was better to suppress the term and retain the thing.  “People are afraid to speak of the new bishoprics,” he wrote to Perez, “on account of the clause providing that of nine canons one shall be inquisitor.  Hence people fear the Spanish inquisition.”—­He, therefore, had written to the King to suggest instead, that the canons or graduates should be obliged to assist the Bishop, according as he might command.  Those terms would suffice, because, although not expressly stated, it was clear that the Bishop was an ordinary inquisitor; but it was necessary to expunge words that gave offence.