burg, and general consternation reigned amongst the followers of Luther. But the designs of Charles met with a check from a quarter whence it was least expected, and a storm burst upon him with a suddenness and fury for a time overwhelming. Maurice, Elector of Saxony, was a bold ambitious man, and regarded with alarm the proceedings of Charles against the Protestants; but he owed him ill-will from another cause: his father-in-law, the Landgrave of Hesse, had been detained prisoner by Charles through a fraudulent interpretation of a treaty, and Maurice had endeavored unsuccessfully to obtain his release. It is true that Maurice was bound to Charles by heavy ties of gratitude, but this he overlooked, and proceeded with great caution and secrecy to organize a bold and extensive conspiracy against his benefactor; repeated warnings of the contemplated treachery reached Charles, but he and his minister, Granvella, treated them with contempt. at Trent, where he snatched a few hours' repose; but, like Napoleon after Waterloo, harassed by repeated alarms, he quickly resumed his flight, by dreadful roads, to Villach, in Carinthia. Here the fugitive monarch, feeling the mockery of retaining the Elector in longer captivity, gave him his liberty. Alas! what a contrast Charles' condition now presented, to the field of Lochau, when the Elector first bowed his knee before him! Then was he in pride every inch an Emperor; vigorous in body and haughty in spirit, the conqueror treated the misfortunes of his captive with insult; he addressed him with reproaches, and spurned him with contempt. Since then five years have rolled away, and we see that proud man broken in spirit and racked with pain, fleeing before Maurice, the man he had delighted to honor,-a homeless fugitive, without money, without friends, without the ordinary comforts of life. His hour had come, and the pangs of mortification must be increased tenfold by the recollection of his ungenerous conduct towards that prince to whom he now gives liberty because he can no longer retain him a prisoner. Sic transit gloria mundi ! year, Early in 1552, when Charles was in his fifty-third there were ambassadors from England at the court of the Emperor at Brussels, and we are made acquainted, through their despatches, with the state of the Emperor's health. We find that in March "The Emperor remained very sickly, and in more likelihood to die than to live. In case of whose mortality and departure, the council instructed the ambassadors that it was the King's pleasure that they should use such words of lamentation as might seem fit.' Great, therefore, was the consternation of the Emperor when he suddenly found himself involved in hostilities with the majority of the German princes, supported by the King of France, at the head of a powerful army. The machinations of Maurice had accomplished this, and Charles awoke from a dream of profound security on the brink of an awful precipice. Maurice had already invaded Franconia, and his forces were augmented by the troops of the Landgrave of Hesse, and those of the Margrave Albert, who was also detained in captivity by Charles. The strong castle of Ehrenberg was taken through the treachery of a shepherd, and Maurice pushed on with all speed for Inspruck, in the hope of surprising Charles, and making him prisoner. Everything promised to crown this design with success, but happily for Charles a mutiny broke out amongst Maurice's troops, which delayed his march a whole day. Most fortunate was this delay for Charles. Intelligence of the approaching danger reached him late in the evening, and notwithstanding that a dreadful thunder-storm raged, and that he was suffering from a severe attack of gout, he placed himself in a litter, and hurried from Inspruck. Such was the emergency, that the captive Elector of Saxony, Ferdinand the brother of the Emperor, and the rest of his suite, fled in the utmost confusion, many on foot, and ill provided against the inclemency of the weather. They made their way by torchlight through the steep and intricate passes of the Tyrol, and in this miserable plight, the once all-powerful monarch arrived p. s. At this time it began to be bruited abroad that the intellects of the Emperor were affected, for "The Emperor's own condition was now in April such that he kept himself close, and gave no audience to any man nor was seen abroad. The reason whereof was thought to be that the despite of his ill successes had bred in him a melancholy humor, not much differing from a frenzy." Again, in May we learn that "Touching the estate of the Emperor's person, the ambassadors sent word to the lords of the council that they could by no means learn assuredly how it was with him; for it was kept so that there was no man came abroad that was able di * Strype, Memorials Ecclesiastical, vol. ii. pt. ii, † Op. cit. p. 81. rectly to say the Emperor is in this or that case. He continued in this state of profound melancholy during the whole of May, and early in June the report is, "The Emperor still continued indisposed, so that no access of the English ambassadors could be permitted to him." However, the interview was now not far distant, for we are informed that "The 8th of June was the day the King's ambassadors had their long-expected audience of the Emperor.t * *They were brought into his privy chamber. There they found him sitting in a chair, with his feet on a stool, looking very pale, weak, lean, and feeble; how beit nothing so ill as they before believed of him for his eyes were lively enough, and his speech sensible, so that the ambassadors could not tell what to judge of him; for he had escaped so many perils of sickness, that though his color and flesh were gone, yet he might, they said, endure awhile. Yet to judge him by their sight, they said that he appeared to them a man of a short time of continuance." Danger, long travel, want, or woe, Soon change the form that best we know, And blanch at once the hair. More deeply than despair!" Thus it was with Charles; a canker was gnawing at his heart, and eating the green leaves from off the tree of life. Bodily suffering and disease had done much, but mortification, blasted hopes, and disappointed ambition had done more. The combination of these causes had wrought vast changes in his once vigorous mind and powerful frame, and the wreck was total. A treaty concluded at Passau having relieved the Emperor from the hostilities of the Elector Maurice, he determined to turn his arms, so soon as he was in a condition to make war, against Henry II., then King of France; and one of his first acts was to invest Metz. Though ill with a violent fit of the gout, and so infirm that he was obliged to be carried in a litter, Charles often appeared amongst his soldiers that he might animate them with his presence. But it was all in vain; the utmost efforts of the besiegers were unable to make impression upon the garrison, and the fire of the besieged, together with disease, famine, and the inclemency of the weather, destroyed thirty thousand of his troops. Under these disastrous circumstances, the Emperor abruptly raised the siege, exclaiming, "Fortune, I now perceive, like other fine ladies, chooses to confer her favors on young men, and forsake those who are in the decline of life." A religious peace was concluded at Augsburg on the 26th of September, 1555, by which the free exercise of their religion was guaranteed to Protestants throughout the whole of Germany, with possession of all the revenues hitherto received from the ecclesiastical institutions. This was peculiarly offensive to the Emperor, for it absolutely blasted those hopes which he had eagerly cherished during his whole reign, of seeing once more a single and undivided church. Thus, at the time that his mind was enfeebled, and his body worn down by disease, were his sufferings aggravated by the pangs of mortified vanity and bitter disappointment. The fabric his whole life had been spent in erecting was crumbling to pieces before his eyes,— those ambitious schemes, to the realization of which he had fondly looked for years, had been rudely demolished. France, that country which he hated with all the steadfastness of Castilian hatred, was now in the ascendant, and daily increasing in European influence. His armies had been annihilated, his exchequer exhausted, and there did not even remain to him the consolation of being beloved by his people. Under these afflicting circumstances, and conscious of his increasing bodily infirmities, he resolved to put in execution a project he had long contemplated, namely, to abdicate his throne in favor of his son Philip, and to pass the remainder of his life in religious retirement. There can be little doubt that the scheme of withdrawing from the world had occupied. the thoughts of Charles for a long period before he was enabled to carry it into execution. Sandoval informs us that "Father * Charles was not the first King of Spain who resigned the sceptre for religious seclusion. Alfonso IV., surnamed "El Monge," (the Monk,) in 930 abdicated the throne of Asturias and Leon, and retired to the monastery of Sahagun. He was succeeded by his brother Ramiro II. Scarcely had Ramiro settled himself on the throne, before Alfonso, grow ing sick of a monastic life, reclaimed his throne, and proceeded with an army to enforce his claim. He to surrender. was, however, defeated by Ramiro, and compelled With a barbarity common in those days, his eyes were put out with hot irons, and he was again consigned to a monastery. Ramiro himself abdicated some time before his death in favor of his son Ordono, and assuming a penitential garb, passed the rest of his days in monastic solitude. James, (former confessor to the Emperor,) several years before his majesty withdrew, told the prior he knew he would leave the world could he do it with a safe conscience. The Emperor himself further declared, that, had his health permitted, his design was to be a lay-brother or one of the meanest servants of the monastery." He further subsequently declared to the Prior of Guadaloupe that "whilst the Empress was living they had agreed that she should retire to a nunnery, and he to a monastery; but that she dying, he could not perform it sooner without leaving all Christendom exposed to inevitable ruin." Another objection was the tender age of his son, whom he could not think of loading with the government of so many kingdoms until he had arrived at a mature age; Philip had now reached his twenty-eighth year, and had displayed a decided capacity for the important duties about to be imposed upon him. Thus relieved from the scruples which had prevented the performance of his resolution, Charles proceeded without further delay to carry it into execution. He first summoned Philip from England, where he was leading an uncomfortable life in consequence of the peevish temper of his wife, our Queen Mary. Charles then assembled the States at Brussels on the 25th of October, 1555, with all the pomp required by the importance of the transaction, and seated himself for the last time in the chair of state, having on one side his son Philip, on the other side his sister the Queen of Hungary, attended by a splendid retinue of grandees and princes. in government, and that in retirement the remembrance of their fidelity and attachment would be his sweetest consolation. He then turned to his son Philip, who fell on his knees and kissed his father's hand, and addressed him in a touching speech, concluding with these words, "If the time should ever come when you shall wish to enjoy the tranquillity of private life, may you have a son endowed with such qualities that you can resign your sceptre to him with as much satisfaction as I give mine to you." During these addresses the whole audience were melted into tears, and, at the conclusion, Charles sank back into his chair ready to faint with exhaustion. A few weeks after this transaction Charles, in an assembly no less splendid, resigned to his son the crown of Spain and all their territories, reserving only for himself an annual pension of 100,000 crowns. Charles had fixed the place of his retreat at the monastery of St. Justus, in Estremadura in Spain. It was situated in a lovely valley watered by a running brook, and surrounded by hills clothed with lofty trees. Towards the end of August, 1556, he set out for Zuitberg, in Zealand, where a large fleet of Spanish, English, and Flemish vessels were assembled. On the 17th of September he set sail and reached Laredo, in Biscay, on the eleventh day. It is stated by a contemporary historian* that, although the vogage was most prosperous, there arose such a heavy storm on the very night after he landed, that the ship he had sailed in foundered. As soon as he set foot on the Spanish shore he fell prostrate, and kissing the earth, exclaimed, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked I now return to thee, thou common mother of mankind." From Laredo he proceeded to Burgos, borne in a litter, and suffering exquisite pain; he then pursued his course to Valladolid, where he took a final leave of his two sisters. Having now severed his last earthly ties, he considered himself thenceforth dead to the world. From Valladolid he continued on his way to Placentia, and thence to his humble retreat at St. Justus. The President of the Council of Flanders explained in a few words the Emperor's intention in convening this extraordinary meeting. He then read the instrument of resignation, which being concluded, Charles rose from his seat amidst a breathless silence, and, leaning on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, (being unable to stand without support,) he addressed his audience with dignity| mingled with sadness. He recapitulated the chief events of his life, from the seventeenth year of his age, alluding to the great deeds which had been performed in his time and by his arms. He then proceeded to state the From an expression in one of the reports reasons which induced him to perform the act sent home by the English ambassadors, it was they were that day called together to witness; evidently considered that the Emperor's inthat now his health was broken, his vigor tellects were unsettled; indeed, there is little exhausted, and his growing infirmities warned doubt that towards the latter part of his life him to retire; that he gave them in his place he was not altogether of sound mind. The a prince in the prime of life, and accustomed to great bodily suffering he had endured, the govern; that he earnestly implored their forgiveness if he had committed any material error * Sandoval. bitter disappointments he had experienced, and the absolute cessation of activity rendered necessary by his infirmities, would, doubtless, tend to such a result. When a man after many years of activity and excitement is suddenly and wholly withdrawn from it, serious consequences ensue: the stimulus has become necessary, and its sudden withdrawal is hurtful. The attention under such circumstances becomes strongly and continually directed inwards; the mind preys upon itself; it dwells on its own movements and its own feelings until the importance of each exaggerated, and the result is self-reproach, gloom, and despondency. The mind ceases to respond to its usual emotions, and the reason becomes impaired. Worldly business and salutary occupations are despised or regarded with indifference, the whole attention is yielded up to the feelings,--the process of self-examination becomes the business of life, the mental views become distorted, and clouds of gloom settle heavily on the spirit. is Some months before his resignation, Charles had sent an architect to add accommodation for him to the monastery of St. Justus; but it only consisted of six small rooms, four in the form of friar's cells, with naked walls, the other two were hung with old black cloth. There was but one chair, and that so decayed, that it would not have yielded half-a-crown if it were to be sold." His habit was very poor and always black. In this humble retreat did Charles bury his grandeur, his ambition, with all those vast projects which for half a century had kept Europe in a ferment. His time was almost entirely occupied in devotion; the only exercise he took was in some gardens he had caused to be made, terminated by a small hermitage. He only kept a small gelding and an old mule, and was frequently unable to ride on account of a swimming in his head. When confined to his apartment, he employed his hours of leisure in making curious works of mechanism. Charles had always taken great delight in mechanics, and in order that he might indulge this taste in his retreat, he engaged Turriano, one of the most ingenious artists of the age, to accompany him thither. With him he labored in forming models of the most useful machines, as well as in making experiments with regard to their respective powers, and it was not seldom that the ideas of the monarch assisted or perfected the inventions of the artist. He relieved his mind at intervals with slighter and more fantastic works of mechanism, in fashioning puppets which, by the structure of internal springs, mimicked the gestures and actions of men, to the astonishment of the ignorant monks, who beholding movements which they could not comprehend, sometimes distrusted their own senses, and sometimes suspected Charles and Turriano of being in compact with invisible powers. He was particularly curious with regard to the construction of clocks and watches; and having found, after repeated trials, that he could not bring any two of them to go alike, he is said to have exclaimed, "Behold, not even two watches, the work of my own hands, can I bring to agree with each other according to a law; and yet, fool that I was, I thought that I should be able to govern like the works of a watch so many nations, all living under a different sky, in different climes, and speaking different languages!" During the first year of his retreat his health and spirits were decidedly benefited; tranquillity seemed returning to his mind, and his bodily ailments troubled him less: but this calm was fallacious, and only a prelude to a darker storm. About six months before his death, the gout returned with increased severity: from this attack his mind never rallied, nor was his constitution in a condition to withstand the shock. Henceforward we have a gloomy picture of superstition and mental terror. Viewing his spiritual condition with horror, he endeavored to appease the anger of the Almighty by inflicting upon himself the most rigid abstinence, the heaviest penances, and severest flagellations. After his death the scourge of cords he used was found stiff and dyed with blood. He debarred himself all his former innocent amusements; his whole time was passed between religious exercises and acts of penance. But even the severest of these fell short of the requirements of his fevered imagination; he determined to expiate his sins by such an act as had never before been attempted, an act the product of a wild and distempered mind. It was nothing less than to celebrate his own obsequies before his death! Charles ordered his tomb to be erected in the chapel of the monastery, and every preparation to be made for a funeral. The grave was dug, the coffin made, and Charles was clothed in the habiliments of the grave. In slow and solemn procession did the monks and his domestics wend their way through the cloisters and into the chapel, a dim light being cast on the scene from the black tapers which each carried; after them followed Charles in his shroud. The service for the dead was chanted, and Charles joined with agonizing earnestness in the prayers which were offered up for the repose of his soul, mingling his tears with those shed by his attendants, as if they were celebrating a real funeral-the event which was soon to follow cast its shadow upon them! At length he was solemnly laid in his coffin, and the offices for the dead being concluded, the ceremony was closed by the coffin being sprinkled with holy-water in the usual form. Then all the attendants retiring, the doors of the chapel were shut, and Charles left to his own meditations. What a moral is to be drawn from this scene! What a lesson for the ambitious, the vain, the worldly-minded! Oh! ye who imagine that unalloyed happiness is to be found in the palaces of kings-who believe that the occupants of thrones bask in the sunshine of perpetual spring-think upon this! The most eloquent discourse of the orator, the utmost effort of the painter's skill must fall far short of the stern reality of the scene before us. There, wrapped in the garments of the dead, in the damp and foul atmosphere of the grave, resting upon the dust which has once been animated with life, surrounded by the mouldering remains of frail mortality, lies Charles! but a short time since owning the titles of King of Castile, Leon, Grenada, Arragon, Navarre, the two Sicilies, Jerusalem, &c.; Archduke of Austria, Duke of Burgundy, Brabant, Styria, Carinthia, &c.; Count of Flanders, Burgundy and Hainault, Prince of Swabia, Count of Friesland, &c. &c. &c. There he lies, not a cold, inanimate corpse, but a living, breathing, conscious mortal. What thoughts, what reflections must have passed through his mind during that sad hour; how absolutely he must have felt the nothingness of life, the emptiness of grandeur, the vanity of ambition, the fallacy of human expectations; doubtless the words of the Preacher presented themselves to his mind"Then I looked on all the works my hands had wrought, and on the labor that I had labored to do, and behold all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.' After some time spent in meditation, Charles rose out of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment, full of those awful sentiments which such a singular solemnity was calculated to inspire. The fatigue attendant upon this ceremony, the chill of the tomb, and the impression made on his mind by the image of death, combined to bring on an ague, and in a short time the rehearsal was succeeded by the real performance. On the day after the scene we have described, Charles was seized with an intermittent fever; the particulars are thus given by Sandoval:-"The gout had left him for several days, and changed into an ague of another nature than what he used to have before, for the cold fit lasted twice as long as the hot; whereupon he was twice blooded, which, instead of lessening, increased it to such a degree that one fit overtook another, and thus he grew weaker; and though he took care of his bodily health, following the physician's prescriptions, yet he was much more solicitous for the concerns of his soul, confessing often, and making his last will and testament. Being near his end, he received the blessed sacrament, and desired the extreme unction might be given him, which was done at night; and the prior thinking the ceremony, as it was used to the friars, was too tedious to him, he being in some agony-all the penitential psalms, litany, and prayers being to be read-he bid Lewis Quexada, who was at the bed's head, ask him whether he should have the ceremony at length, or shortened, and he answered, 'they should oil him like a friar,' which was done accordingly, the Emperor answering to all the psalms, verse for verse, as the friars did, and then he seemed to be somewhat better. The next day he received the blessed sacrament again, with great devotion, saying, Thou remainest in me, may I remain in Thee.' That night, after he had received the second time, he grew worse, and about two of the clock the next morning, when all were very still, he said, 'It is now time, give me that candle and crucifix,' and though he was so spent that four men could with difficulty stir him in his bed, he turned upon his side as readily as if he had ailed nothing; then, taking the crucifix in one hand and the candle in the other, he continued awhile looking on the crucifix, without speaking a word, and then, in a voice so loud that it could be heard in the other rooms, he said, 'Oh! Jesus-,' and so gave up the ghost to his Redeemer on the 21st of September, 1558."* Charles had left directions that his body should not be embalmed; it was therefore at There is a singular resemblance in the circumstances of the illness of Charles V. to that which was fatal to Oliver Cromwell, who died September 3, 1658. The particulars of the death of Cromwell are narrated in an article in the "Dublin Quarterly Journal of Medicine" for May, 1848. |