Thus, then, it was settled beyond peradventure that there was to be no
compromise with heresy. The King had willed it. The theologians had
advised it. The Duchess had proclaimed it. It was supposed that
without the axe, the fire, and the rack, the Catholic religion would
be extinguished, and that the whole population of the Netherlands would
embrace the Reformed Faith. This was the distinct declaration of
Viglius, in a private letter to Granvelle. "Many seek to abolish the
chastisement of heresy," said he; "if they gain this point, actum est
de religione Catholica; for as most of the people are ignorant fools,
the heretics will soon be the great majority, if by fear of punishment
they are not kept in the true path."

The uneasiness, the terror, the wrath of the people seemed rapidly
culminating to a crisis. Nothing was talked of but the edicts and the
inquisition. Nothing else entered into the minds of men. In the
streets, in the shops, in the taverns, in the fields; at market, at
church, at funerals, at weddings; in the noble's castle, at the farmer's
fireside, in the mechanic's garret, upon the merchants' exchange, there
was but one perpetual subject of shuddering conversation. It was better,
men began to whisper to each other, to die at once than to live in
perpetual slavery. It was better to fall with arms in hand than to be
tortured and butchered by the inquisition. Who could expect to contend
with such a foe in the dark?

They reproached the municipal authorities with lending themselves as
instruments to the institution. They asked magistrates and sheriffs
how far they would go in their defence before God's tribunal for the
slaughter of his creatures, if they could only answer the divine
arraignment by appealing to the edict of 1550. On the other hand, the