ge for the treaty of
Cateau Cambresis, had negotiated an alliance between the crowns of France
and Spain for the extirpation of heresy by the sword. He added, that he
intended to deal with the nobles with all gentleness, and that he should
do his best to please them. The only thing which he could not yield was
the authority of his Majesty; to sustain that, he would sacrifice his
life, if necessary. At the same time Granvelle carefully impressed upon
the King the necessity of contradicting the report alluded to, a request
which he took care should also be made through the Regent in person. He
had already, both in his own person and in that of the Duchess, begged
for a formal denial, on the King's part, that there was any intention of
introducing the Spanish inquisition into the Netherlands, and that the
Cardinal had counselled, originally, the bishoprics. Thus instructed, the
King accordingly wrote to Margaret of Parma to furnish the required
contradictions. In so doing, he made a pithy remark. "The Cardinal had
not counselled the cutting off the half a dozen heads," said the monarch,
"but perhaps it would not be so bad to do it!" Time was to show whether
Philip was likely to profit by the hint conveyed in the Cardinal's
disclaimer, and whether the factor "half dozen" were to be used or not as
a simple multiplier in the terrible account preparing.

The contradictions, however sincere, were not believed by the persons
most interested. Nearly all the nobles continued to regard the Cardinal
with suspicion and aversion. Many of the ruder and more reckless class
vied with the rhetoricians and popular caricaturists in the practical
jests which they played off almost daily against the common foe.
Especially Count Brederode, "a madman, if there ever were one," as a
contemporary expressed himself, was most untiring in his efforts to make
Granvelle ridiculous. He went almost nightly to masquerades, dressed as a
cardinal or a monk; and as he was rarely known to be sober on these or
any other occasions, the wildness of his demonstrations may easily be
imagined. He was seconded on all these occasions by his cousin Robert de
la Marck, Seigneur de Lumey, a worthy descendant of the famous "Wild Boar
of Ardennes;" a man brave to temerity, but utterly depraved, licentious,
and sanguinary. These two men, both to be widely notorious, from their
prominence in many of the most striking scenes by which the great revolt
was ushered in, had vowed