Philip was possessed of a temper haughty and cruel, and gave full proof of his zeal to obey his father's commands. He conferred new powers on the Inquisitors throughout the Netherlands, and published the most sanguinary edicts against all who maintained or even seemed to favour the Protestant doctrines. In vain did the states of the Low Countries remonstrate against the Inquisition being established among them. Having taken an oath to devote the whole of his reign to the defence of Popery, that cruel and superstitious monarch haughtily replied, "that he would be rather no king at all, than have heretics for his subjects." Notwithstanding his obstinacy, however, he ultimately failed in his attempts to force the Low Countries to receive the Inquisition. The Flemings persisted in opposing every thing resembling that cruel tribunal, and their resistance was the cause of long and bloody wars, which exhausted the treasures and armies of Spain during half a century, and eventually ended in favour of the people.
But it was not in the Low Countries only that Philip showed himself the patron of the Inquisition. In Spain he not only supported, but urged on its "ministers and officials" to the commission of the most appalling deeds of cruelty. On the 18th of October, 1559, an auto-da-fé[10] was celebrated at Valladolid, at which Philip himself was present, and gave most unequivocal proofs of his zeal in defence of the prerogatives of that tribunal. The Inquisitor-general having demanded of the king to continue to them his support, in these words, "Lord, continue to help us;" Philip grasped his sword, and unsheathed part of it, to intimate his readiness at all times to obey the mandates of these ghostly fathers,—a pledge, which, alas! he more than faithfully fulfilled.[11] The horrid ceremony of putting to death twenty-eight faithful followers of the Redeemer, was conducted with great apparent solemnity, Philip, his son, and courtiers, sitting within sight of the prisoners. Among the Protestants condemned, there was a nobleman of the name of Don Carlos Sessa, who, when the executioners were conducting him to the stake, called to the king for mercy, saying, "And canst thou, O king! witness the torments of thy subjects? Save us from this cruel death; we do not deserve it." "No," replied Philip, sternly, "I would myself carry wood to burn my own son, were he such a wretch as thou!"[12] After which he beheld the bloody spectacle that followed, with a composure which showed that he possessed a heart destitute, not only of Christian feeling, but of the least spark of humanity.