THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V

BOOK I.

FERDINAND, KING OF SPAIN

CHARLES V was born at Ghent on the twenty-fourth day of February, in the year one thousand five hundred. His father, Philip the Handsome, archduke of Austria, was the son of the emperor Maximilian, and of Mary the only child of Charles the Bold, the last prince of the house of Burgundy. His mother, Joanna, was the second daughter of Ferdinand king of Aragon, and of Isabella queen of Castile.

A long train of fortunate events had opened the way for this young prince to the inheritance of more extensive dominions, than any European monarch, since Charlemagne, had possessed. Each of his ancestors had acquired kingdoms or provinces, towards which their prospect of succession was extremely remote. The rich possessions of Mary of Burgundy had been destined for another family, she having been contracted by her father to the only son of Louis XI of France; but that capricious monarch, indulging his hatred to her family, chose rather to strip her of part of her territories by force, than to secure the whole by marriage; and by this misconduct, fatal to his posterity, he threw all the Netherlands and Franche Compté into the hands of a rival. Isabella, the daughter of John II of Castile, far from having any prospect of that noble inheritance which she transmitted to her grandson, passed the early part of her life in obscurity and indigence. But the Castilians, exasperated against her brother Henry IV, an ill-advised and vicious prince, publicly charged him with impotence, and his queen with adultery. Upon his demise, rejecting Joanna, whom Henry had uniformly, and even on his death-bed, owned to be his lawful daughter, and whom an assembly of the states had acknowledged to be the heir of his kingdom, they obliged her to retire into Portugal, and placed Isabella on the throne of Castile. Ferdinand owed the crown of Aragon to the unexpected death of his elder brother, and acquired the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily by violating the faith of treaties, and disregarding the ties of blood. To all these kingdoms, Christopher Columbus, by an effort of genius and of intrepidity, the boldest and most successful that is recorded in the annals of mankind, added a new world, the wealth of which became one considerable source of the power and grandeur of the Spanish monarchs.

Don John, the only son of Ferdinand and Isabella, and their eldest daughter, the queen of Portugal, being cut off, without issue, in the flower of youth, all their hopes centred in Joanna and her posterity. But as her husband, the archduke, was a stranger to the Spaniards, it was thought expedient to invite him into Spain, that by residing among them, he might accustom himself to their laws and manners; and it was expected that the Cortes, or assembly of states, whose authority was then so great in Spain, that no title to the crown was reckoned valid unless it received their sanction, would acknowledge his right of succession, together with that of the infanta, his wife. Philip and Joanna, passing through France in their way to Spain, were entertained in that kingdom with the utmost magnificence. The archduke did homage to Louis XII for the earldom of Flanders, and took his seat as a peer of the realm in the parliament of Paris. They were received in Spain with every mark of honor that the parental affection of Ferdinand and Isabella, or the respect of their subjects, could devise; and their title to the crown was soon after acknowledged by the Cortes of both kingdoms.

But amidst these outward appearances of satisfaction and joy, some secret uneasiness preyed upon the mind of each of these princes. The stately and reserved ceremonial of the Spanish court was so burdensome to Philip, a prince, young, gay, affable, fond of society and of pleasure, that he soon began to express a desire of returning to his native country, the manners of which were more suited to his temper. Ferdinand, observing the declining health of his queen, with whose life he knew that his right to the government of Castile must cease, easily foresaw, that a prince of Philip's disposition, and who already discovered an extreme impatience to reign, would never consent to his retaining any degree of authority in that kingdom; and the prospect of this diminution of his power awakened the jealousy of that ambitious monarch.

Isabella beheld, with the sentiments natural to a mother, the indifference and neglect with which the archduke treated her daughter, who was destitute of those beauties of person, as well as those accomplishments of mind, which fix the affections of a husband. Her understanding, always weak, was often disordered. She doated on Philip with such an excess of childish and indiscreet fondness, as excited disgust rather than affection. Her jealousy, for which her husband’s behavior gave her too much cause, was proportioned to her love, and often broke out in the most extravagant actions. Isabella, though sensible of her defects, could not help pitying her condition, which was soon rendered altogether deplorable, by the archduke's abrupt resolution of setting out in the middle of winter for Flanders, and of leaving her in Spain. Isabella entreated him not to abandon his wife to grief and melancholy, which might prove fatal to her as she was near the time of her delivery. Joanna conjured him to put off his journey for three days only, that she might have the pleasure of celebrating the festival of Christmas in his company. Ferdinand, after representing the imprudence of his leaving Spain, before he had time to become acquainted with the genius, or to gain the affections of the people, who were one day to be his subjects, besought him, at least, not to pass through France, with which kingdom he was then at open war. Philip, without regarding either the dictates of humanity, or the maxims of prudence, persisted in his purpose; and on the twenty-second of December set out for the Low Countries, by the way of France.

From the moment of his departure, Joanna sunk into a deep and sullen melancholy, and while she was in that situation bore Ferdinand her second son, for whom the power of his brother Charles afterwards cured the kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia, and to whom he at last transmitted the imperial scepter. Joanna was the only person in Spain who discovered no joy at the birth of this prince. Insensible to that as well as to every other pleasure, she was wholly occupied with the thoughts of returning to her husband; nor did she, in any degree, recover tranquility of mind, until she arrived at Brussels next year.

Philip, in passing through France, had an interview with Louis XII and signed a treaty with him, by which he hoped that all the differences between France and Spain would have been finally terminated. But Ferdinand, whose affairs, at that time, were extremely prosperous in Italy, where the superior genius of Gonsalvo de Cordova, the great captain, triumphed on every occasion over the arms of France, did not pay the least regard to what his son-in-law had concluded, and carried on hostilities with greater ardor than ever.

From this time Philip seems not to have taken any part in the affairs of Spain, waiting in quiet till the death either of Ferdinand or Isabella should open the way to one of their thrones. The latter of these events was not far distant. The untimely death of her son and eldest daughter had made a deep impression on the mind of Isabella; and as she could derive but little consolation for the losses which she had sustained either from her daughter Joanna, whose infirmities daily increased, or from her son-in-law, who no longer preserved even the appearance of a decent respect towards that unhappy princess, her spirits and health began gradually to decline, and after languishing some months, she died at Medina del Campo on the twenty-sixth of November one thousand five hundred and four. She was no less eminent for virtue than for wisdom; and whether we consider her behavior as a queen, as a wife, or as a mother, she is justly entitled to the high encomiums bestowed on her by the Spanish historians.

A few weeks before her death, she made her last will, and being convinced of Joanna’s incapacity to assume the reins of government into her own hands, and having no inclination to commit them to Philip, with whose conduct she was extremely dissatisfied, she appointed Ferdinand regent or administrator of the affairs of Castile until her grandson Charles should attain the age of twenty. She bequeathed to Ferdinand likewise one half of the revenues which should arise from the Indies, together with the grand masterships of the three military orders; dignities which rendered the person who possessed them almost independent, and which Isabella had, for that reason, annexed to the crown. But before she signed a deed so favorable to Ferdinand, she obliged him to swear that he would not, by a second marriage, or by any other means, endeavor to deprive Joanna or her posterity of their right of succession to any of his kingdoms.

Immediately upon the queen’s death, Ferdinand resigned the title of king of Castile, and issued orders to proclaim Joanna and Philip the sovereigns of that kingdom. But, at the same time, he assumed the character of regent, in consequence of Isabella’s testament; and not long after he prevailed on the Cortes of Castile to acknowledge his right to that office. This, however, he did not procure without difficulty, nor without discovering such symptoms of alienation and disgust among the Castilians as filled him with great uneasiness. The union of Castile and Aragon, for almost thirty years, had not so entirely extirpated the ancient and hereditary enmity which subsisted between the natives of these kingdoms, that the Castilian pride could submit, without murmuring, to the government of a king of Aragon. Ferdinand’s own character, with which the Castilians were well acquainted, was far from rendering his authority desirable. Suspicious, discerning, severe, and parsimonious, he was accustomed to observe the minute actions of his subjects with a jealous attention, and to reward their highest services with little liberality; and they were now deprived of Isabella, whose gentle qualities, and partiality to her Castilian subjects, often tempered his austerity, or rendered it tolerable. The maxims of his government were especially odious to the grandees; for that artful prince, sensible of the dangerous privileges conferred upon them by the feudal institutions, had endeavored to curb their exorbitant power, by extending the royal jurisdiction, by protecting their injured vassals, by increasing the immunities of cities, and by other measures equally prudent. From all these causes, a formidable party among the Castilians united against Ferdinand, and though the persons who composed it had not hitherto taken any public step in opposition to him, he plainly saw, that upon the least encouragement from their new king, they would proceed to the most violent extremities.

There was no less agitation in the Netherlands, upon receiving the accounts of Isabella's death, and of Ferdinand’s having assumed the government of Castile. Philip was not of a temper tamely to suffer himself to be supplanted by the ambition of his father-in-law. If Joanna’s infirmities, and the nonage of Charles, rendered them incapable of government, he, as a husband, was the proper guardian of his wife, and, as a father, the natural tutor of his son. Nor was it sufficient to oppose to these just rights, and to the inclination of the people of Castile, the authority of a testament, the genuineness of which was perhaps doubtful, and its contents to him appeared certainly to be iniquitous. A keener edge was added to Philip’s resentment, and new vigour infused into his councils by the arrival of Don John Manuel. He was Ferdinand’s ambassador at the Imperial court, but upon the first notice of Isabella's death repaired to Brussels, flattering himself, that under a young and liberal prince, he might attain to power and honors, which he could never have expected in the service of an old and frugal master. He had early paid court to Philip during his residence in Spain, with such assiduity as entirely gained his confidence; and having been trained to business under Ferdinand, could oppose his schemes with equal abilities, and with arts not inferior to those for which that monarch was distinguished.

By the advice of Manuel, ambassadors were despatched to require Ferdinand to retire into Aragon, and to resign the government of Castile to those persons whom Philip should intrust with it, until his own arrival in that kingdom. Such of the Castilian nobles as had discovered any dissatisfaction with Ferdinand’s administration, were encouraged by every method to oppose it. At the same time a treaty was concluded with Louis XII by which Philip flattered himself, that he had secured the friendship and assistance of that monarch.

Meanwhile, Ferdinand employed all the arts of address and policy, in order to retain the power of which he had got possession. By means of Conchillos, an Aragonian gentleman, he entered into a private negotiation with Joanna, and prevailed on that weak princess to confirm, by her authority, his right to the regency. But this intrigue did not escape the penetrating eye of Don John Manuel. Joanna’s letter of consent was intercepted; Conchillos was thrown into a dungeon; she herself confined to an apartment in the palace, and all her Spanish domestics secluded from her presence.

The mortification which the discovery of this intrigue occasioned to Ferdinand was much increased by his observing the progress which Philip’s emissaries made in Castile. Some of the nobles retired to their castles; others to the towns in which they had influence; they formed themselves into confederacies, and began to assemble their vassals. Ferdinand’s court was almost totally deserted; not a person of distinction but Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, the duke of Alva, and the marquis of Denia, remaining there; while the houses of Philip’s ambassadors were daily crowded with noblemen of the highest rank.

Exasperated at this universal defection, and mortified perhaps with seeing all his schemes defeated by a younger politician, Ferdinand resolved, in defiance of the law of nature, and of decency, to deprive his daughter and her posterity of the crown of Castile, rather than renounce the regency of that kingdom. His plan for accomplishing this was no less bold, than the intention itself was wicked. He demanded in marriage Joanna, the supposed daughter of Henry IV on the belief of whose illegitimacy Isabella’s right to the crown of Castile was founded: and by reviving the claim of this princess, in opposition to which he himself had formerly led armies and fought battles, he hoped once more to get possession of the throne of that kingdom. But Emanuel, king of Portugal, in whose dominions Joanna resided at that time, having married one of Ferdinand’s daughters by Isabella, refused his consent to that unnatural match; and the unhappy princess herself, having lost all relish for the objects of ambition, by being long immured in a convent, discovered no less aversion to it.

The resources, however, of Ferdinand’s ambition were not exhausted. Upon meeting with a repulse in Portugal, he turned towards France, and sought in marriage Germain de Foix, a daughter of the viscount of Narbonne, and of Mary, the sister of Louis XII. The war which that monarch had carried on against Ferdinand in Naples, had been so unfortunate, that he listened with joy to a proposal, which furnished him with an honorable pretence for concluding peace; and though no prince was ever more remarkable than Ferdinand for making all his passions bend to the maxims of interest, or become subservient to the purposes of ambition, yet so vehement was his resentment against his son-in-law, that the desire of gratifying it rendered him regardless of every other consideration. In order to be revenged of Philip, by detaching Louis from his interest, and in order to gain a chance of excluding him from his hereditary throne of Aragon, and the dominions annexed to it, he was ready once more to divide Spain into separate kingdoms, though the union of these was the great glory of his reign, and had been the chief object of his ambition; he consented to restore the Neapolitan nobles of the French faction to their possessions and honors; and submitted to the ridicule of marrying in an advanced age, a princess of eighteen.

The conclusion of this match, which deprived Philip of his only ally, and threatened him with the loss of so many kingdoms, gave him a dreadful alarm, and convinced Don John Manuel that there was now a necessity of taking other measures with regard to the affairs of Spain. He accordingly instructed the Flemish ambassadors, in the court of Spain, to testify the strong desire which their master had of terminating all differences between him and Ferdinand in an amicable manner, and his willingness to consent to any conditions that would reestablish the friendship which ought to subsist between a father and a son-in-law. Ferdinand, though he had made and broken more treaties than any prince of any age, was apt to confide so far in the sincerity of other men, or to depend so much upon his own address and their weakness, as to be always extremely fond of a negotiation. He listened with eagerness to these declarations, and soon concluded a treaty at Salamanca [Nov. 24]; in which it was stipulated, that the government of Castile should be carried on in the joint names of Joanna, of Ferdinand, and of Philip; and that the revenues of the crown, as well as the right of conferring offices, should be shared between Ferdinand and Philip, by an equal division.

(1506) Nothing, however, was farther from Philip’s thoughts than to observe this treaty. His sole intention in proposing it was to amuse Ferdinand, and to prevent him from taking any measures for obstructing his voyage into Spain. It had that effect. Ferdinand, sagacious as he was, did not for some time suspect his design; and though when he perceived it, he prevailed on the king of France not only to remonstrate against the archduke’s journey, but to threaten hostilities if he should undertake it; though he solicited the duke of Gueldres to attack his son-in-law’s dominions in the Low-Countries, Philip and his consort nevertheless set sail with a numerous fleet, and a good body of land forces. They were obliged, by a violent tempest, to take shelter in England, where Henry VII, in compliance with Ferdinand’s solicitations, detained them upwards of three months; at last they were permitted to depart, and after a more prosperous voyage, they arrived in safety at Corunna in Galicia [April 28], nor durst Ferdinand attempt, as he had once intended, to oppose their landing by force of arms.

The Castilian nobles, who had been obliged hitherto to conceal or to dissemble their sentiments, now declared openly in favor of Philip. From every corner of the kingdom, persons of the highest rank, with numerous retinues of their vassals, repaired to their new sovereign. The treaty of Salamanca was universally condemned, and all agreed to exclude from the government of Castile, a prince, who by consenting to disjoin Aragon and Naples from that crown, discovered so little concern for its true interests. Ferdinand, meanwhile, abandoned by almost all the Castilians, disconcerted by their revolt, and uncertain whether he should peaceably relinquish his power, or take arms in order to maintain it, earnestly solicited an interview with his son-in-law, who, by the advice of Manuel, studiously avoided it. Convinced at last, by seeing the number and zeal of Philip’s adherents daily increase, that it was vain to think of resisting such a torrent, Ferdinand consented, by treaty, to resign the regency of Castile into the hands of Philip [June 27], to retire into his hereditary dominions of Aragon, and to rest satisfied with the masterships of the military orders, and that share of the revenue of the Indies, which Isabella had bequeathed to him. Though an interview between the princes was no longer necessary, it was agreed to on both sides from motives of decency. Philip repaired to the place appointed, with a splendid retinue of Castilian nobles, and a considerable body of armed men. Ferdinand appeared without any pomp, attended by a few followers mounted on mules, and unarmed. On that occasion Don John Manuel had the pleasure of displaying before the monarch, whom he had deserted, the extensive influence which he had acquired over his new master: while Ferdinand suffered, in presence of his former subjects, the two most cruel mortifications which an artful and ambitious prince can feel; being at once overreached in conduct, and stripped of power.

Not long after [July], he retired into Aragon; and hoping that some favorable accident would soon open the way for his return into Castile, he took care to protest, though with great secrecy, that the treaty concluded with his son-in-law, being extorted by force, ought to be deemed void of all obligation.

Philip took possession of his new authority with a youthful joy. The unhappy Joanna, from whom he derived it, remained, during all these contests, under the dominion of a deep melancholy; she was seldom allowed to appear in public; her father, though he had often desired it, was refused access to her; and Philip’s chief object was to prevail on the Cortes to declare her incapable of government, that an undivided power might be lodged in his hands, until his son should attain unto full age. But such was the partial attachment of the Castilians to their native princess, that though Manuel had the address to gain some members of the Cortes assembled at Valladolid, and others were willing to gratify their new sovereign in his first request, the great body of the representatives refused their consent to a declaration which they thought so injurious to the blood of their monarchs. They were unanimous, however, in acknowledging Joanna and Philip, queen and king of Castile, and their son Charles prince o Asturias.

This was almost the only memorable event during Philip’s administration. A fever put an end to his life in the twenty-eighth year of his age [Sept. 25], when he had not enjoyed the regal dignity, which he bad bee so eager to obtain, full three months.

The whole royal authority in Castile ought of course to have devolved upon Joanna. But the shock occasioned by such a disaster so unexpected as the death of her husband, completed the disorder of her understanding, and her incapacity for government. During all the time of Philip’s sickness no entreaty could prevail on her, though in the sixth month of her pregnancy, to leave him for a moment. When he expired, however, she did not shed one tear, or utter a single groan. Her grief was silent and settled. She continued to watch the dead body with the same tenderness and attention as if it had been alive; and though at last she permitted it to be buried, she soon removed it from the tomb to her own apartment. There it was laid upon a bed of state, in a splendid dress; and having heard from some monk a legendary tale of a king who revived after he had been dead fourteen years, she kept her eyes almost constantly fixed in the body, waiting for the happy moment of its return to life. Nor was this capricious affection for her dead husband less tinctured with jealousy, than that which she had borne to him while alive. She did not permit any of her female attendants to approach the bed on which his corpse was laid; she would not suffer any woman who did not belong to her family to enter the apartment; and rather than grant that privilege to a midwife, though a very aged one had been chosen on purpose, she bore the princess Catharine without any other assistance than that of her own domestics.

A woman in such a state of mind was little capable of governing a great kingdom; and Joanna, who made it her role employment to bewail the loss, and to pray for the soul of her husband, would have thought her attention to public affairs an impious neglect of those duties which she owed to him. But though she declined assuming the administration herself, yet by a strange caprice of jealousy, she refused to commit it to any other person; and no entreaty of her subjects could persuade her to name a regent, or even to sign such papers as were necessary for the execution of justice, and the security of the kingdom.

The death of Philip threw the Castilians into the greatest perplexity. It was necessary to appoint a regent, both on account of Joanna’s frenzy, and the infancy of her son; and as there was not among the nobles any person so eminently distinguished, either by superiority in rink or abilities, as to be called by the public voice to that high office, all naturally turned their eyes either towards Ferdinand, or towards the emperor Maximilian. The former claimed that dignity as administrator for his daughter, and by virtue of the testament of Isabella; the latter thought himself the legal guardian of his grandson, whom on account of his mother’s infirmity, he already considered as king of Castile. Such of the nobility as had lately been most active in compelling Ferdinand to resign the government of the kingdom, trembled at the thoughts of his being restored so soon to his former dignity. They dreaded the return of a monarch, not apt to forgive, and who, to those defects with which they were already acquainted, added that resentment which the remembrance of their behavior, and reflection upon his own disgrace, must naturally have excited. Though none of these objections lay against Maximilian, he was a stranger to the laws and manners of Castile; he had not either troops or money to support his pretensions; nor could his claim be admitted without a public declaration of Joanna’s incapacity for government, an indignity to which, notwithstanding the notoriety of her distemper, the delicacy of the Castilians could not hear the thoughts of subjecting her.

Don John Manuel, however, and a few of the nobles, who considered themselves as most obnoxious to Ferdinand’s displeasure, declared for Maximilian, and offered to support his claim with all their interest. Maximilian, always enterprising and decisive in council, though feeble and dilatory in execution, eagerly embraced the offer. But a series of ineffectual negotiations was the only consequence of this transaction. The emperor, as usual, asserted his rights in a high strain, promised a great deal, and performed nothing.

A few days before the death of Philip, Ferdinand had set out for Naples, that, by his own presence, he might put an end, with greater decency, to the viceroyalty of the great captain, whose important services, and cautious conduct, did not screen him from the suspicions of his jealous master. Though an account of his son-in-law's death reached him at Portofino, in the territories of Genoa, he was so solicitous to discover the secret intrigues which he supposed the great captain to have been carrying on, and to establish his own authority on a firm foundation in the Neapolitan dominions, by removing him from the supreme command there, that rather than discontinue his voyage, he chose to leave Castile in a state of anarchy, and even to risk, by this delay, his obtaining possession of the government of that kingdom.

Nothing but the great abilities and prudent conduct of his adherents could have prevented the bad effects of this absence. At the head of these was Ximenes, Archbishop of Toledo, who, though he had been raised to that dignity by Isabella, contrary to the inclination of Ferdinand, and though he could have no expectation of enjoying much power under the administration of a master little disposed to distinguish him by extraordinary marks of attention, was nevertheless so disinterested as to prefer the welfare of his country before his own grandeur, and to declare, that Castile could never be so happily governed as by a prince, whom long experience had rendered thoroughly acquainted with its true interest. The zeal of Ximenes to bring over his countrymen to this opinion, induced him to lay aside somewhat of his usual austerity and haughtiness. He condescended, on this occasion, to court the disaffected nobles, and employed address, as well as arguments, to persuade them. Ferdinand seconded his endeavors with great art; and by concessions to some of the grandees, by promises to others, and by letters full of complaisance to all, he gained many of his most violent opponents. Though many cabals were formed, and some commotions were excited, yet when Ferdinand, after having settled the affairs of Naples, arrived in Castile, Aug. 21, 1507, he entered upon the administration without opposition. The prudence with which he exercised his authority in that kingdom, equaled the good fortune by which he had recovered it. By a moderate, but steady administration, free from partiality and from resentment, he reconciled the Castilians to his person, and secured to them, entirely, during the remainder of his life, as much domestic tranquility as was consistent with the genius of the feudal government, which still subsisted among them in full vigour.

Nor was the preservation of tranquility in his hereditary kingdoms the only obligation which the archduke Charles owed to the wise regency of his grandfather; it was his good fortune, during that period, to have very important additions made to the dominions over which he was to reign. On the coast of Barbary, Oran, and other conquests of no small value, were annexed to the crown of Castile by Cardinal Ximenes, who, with a spirit very uncommon in a monk, led in person a numerous army against the Moors of that country; and with a generosity and magnificence still more singular, defrayed the whole expense of the expedition out of his own revenues. In Europe, Ferdinand, under pretences no less frivolous than unjust; as well as by artifices the most shameful and treacherous, expelled John d’Albret, the lawful sovereign, from the throne of Navarre; and, seizing on that kingdom, extended the limits of the Spanish monarchy from the Pyrenees on the one hand, to the frontiers of Portugal on the other.

It was not, however, the desire of aggrandizing the archduke, which influenced Ferdinand in this, or in any other of his actions. He was more apt to consider that young prince as a rival, who might one day wrest out of his hands the government of Castile, than as a grandson, for whose interest he was intrusted with the administration. This jealousy soon begot aversion, and even hatred, the symptoms of which he was at no pains to conceal. Hence proceeded his immoderate joy when his young queen was delivered of a son, whose life would have deprived Charles of the crowns of Aragon, Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia; and upon the untimely death of that prince, he discovered, for the same reason, an excessive solicitude to have other children. This impatience hastened, in all probability, the accession of Charles to the crown of Spain. Ferdinand, in order to procure a blessing, of which, from his advanced age, and the intemperance of his youth, he could have little prospect, had recourse to his physicians, and by their prescription took one of those potions, which are supposed to add vigour to the constitution, though they more frequently prove fatal to it. This was its effect on a frame so feeble and exhausted as that of Ferdinand; for though he survived a violent disorder, which it at first occasioned, it brought on such an habitual languor and dejection of mind, as rendered him averse from any serious attention to public affairs, and fond of frivolous amusements, on which he had not hitherto bestowed much time. Though he now despaired of having any son of his own, his jealousy of the archduke did not abate, nor could he help viewing him with that aversion which princes often bear to their successors. In order to gratify this unnatural passion, he made a will, appointing prince Ferdinand, who, having been born and educated in Spain, was much beloved by the Spaniards, to be regent of all his kingdoms, until the arrival of the archduke his brother; and by the same deed he settled upon him the grand-mastership of the three military orders. The former of these grants might have put it in the power of the young prince to have disputed the throne with his brother; the latter would, in any event, have rendered him almost independent of him.

Ferdinand retained to the last that jealous love of power, which was so remarkable through his whole life. Unwilling even at the approach of death to admit a thought of relinquishing any portion of his authority, he removed continually from place to place, in order to fly from his distemper, or to forget it. Though his strength declined every day, none of his attendants durst mention his condition; nor would he admit his father confessor, who thought such silence criminal and unchristian, into his presence. At last the danger became so imminent, that it could be no longer concealed.

Ferdinand received the intimation with a decent fortitude, and touched, perhaps, with compunction at the injustice which he had done his grandson, or influenced by the honest remonstrances of Carvajal, Zapata, and Vargas, his most ancient and faithful counselors, who represented to him, that by investing prince Ferdinand with the regency, he would infallibly entail a civil war on the two brothers, and by bestowing on him the grand master ship of the military orders, would strip the crown of its noblest ornament and chief strength, he consented to alter his will with respect to both these particulars. By a new deed he left Charles the sole heir of all his dominions, and allotted to prince Ferdinand, instead of that throne of which he thought himself almost secure, an inconsiderable establishment of fifty thousand ducats a year. He died a few hours after signing this will, on the twenty-third day of January, one thousand five hundred and sixteen.

(1516) Charles, to whom such a noble inheritance descended by his death, was near the full age of sixteen. He had hitherto resided in the Low Countries, his paternal dominions. Margaret of Austria, his aunt, and Margaret of York, the sister of Edward IV of England, and widow of Charles the Bold, two princesses of great virtue and abilities, had the care of forming his early youth. Upon the death of his father, the Flemings committed the government of the Low Countries to his grandfather, the emperor Maximilian, with the name rather than the authority of regent. Maximilian made choice of William de Croy lord of Chievres to superintend the education of the young prince his grandson. That nobleman possessed, in an eminent degree, the talents which fitted him for such an important office, and discharged the duties of it with great fidelity. Under Chievres, Adrian of Utrecht acted as preceptor. This preferment, which opened his way to the highest dignities an ecclesiastic can attain, he owed not to his birth, for that was extremely mean; nor to his interest, for he was a stranger to the arts of a court: but to the opinion which his countrymen entertained of his learning. He was indeed no inconsiderable proficient in those frivolous sciences, which, during several centuries, assumed the name of philosophy, and had published a commentary, which was highly esteemed, upon The Book of Sentences, a famous treatise of Petrus Lombardus, considered at that time as the standard system of metaphysical theology. But whatever admiration these procured him in an illiterate age, it was soon found that a man accustomed to the retirement of a college, unacquainted with the world, and without any tincture of taste or elegance, was by no means qualified for rendering science agreeable to a young, prince. Charles, accordingly, discovered an early aversion to learning, and an excessive fondness for those violent and martial exercises, to excel in which was the chief pride, and almost the only study, of persons of rank in that age. Chievres encouraged this taste, either from a desire of gaining his pupil by indulgence, or from too slight an opinion of the advantages of literary accomplishments. He instructed him, however, with great care in the arts of government; he made him study the history not only of his own kingdoms, but of those with which they were connected; he accustomed him, from the time of his assuming the government of Flanders in the year one thousand five hundred and fifteen to attend to business; he persuaded him to peruse all papers relating to public affairs; to be present at the deliberations of his privy-counselors, and to propose to them himself those matters, concerning which he required their opinion. From such an education, Charles contracted habits of gravity and recollection which scarcely suited his time of life. The first openings of his genius did not indicate that superiority which its maturer age displayed. He did not discover in his youth the impetuosity of spirit which commonly ushers in an active and enterprising manhood. Nor did his early obsequiousness to Chièvres, and his other favorites, promise that capacious and decisive judgment, which afterwards directed the affairs of one half of Europe. But his subjects, dazzled with the external accomplishments of a graceful figure and manly address, and viewing his character with that partiality which is always shown to princes during their youth, entertained sanguine hopes of his adding luster to those crowns which descended to him by the death of Ferdinand.

The kingdoms of Spain, as is evident from the view which I have given of their political constitution, were at that time in a situation which required an administration no less vigorous than prudent. The feudal institutions, which had been introduced into all its different provinces by the Goths, the Suevi, and the Vandals, subsisted in great force. The nobles, who were powerful and warlike, had long possessed all the exorbitant privileges which these institutions vested in their order. The cities in Spain were more numerous and more considerable, than the genius of feudal government, naturally unfavorable to commerce and to regular police, seemed to admit. The personal rights, and political influence, which the inhabitants of these cities had acquired, were extensive. The royal prerogative, circumscribed by the privileges of the nobility, and by the pretensions of the people, was confined within very narrow limits. Under such a form of government, the principles of discord were many; the bond of union was extremely feeble; and Spain felt not only all the inconveniences occasioned by the defects in the feudal system, but was exposed to disorders arising from the peculiarities in its own constitution.

During the long administration of Ferdinand, no internal commotion, it is true, had arisen in Spain. His superior abilities had enabled him to restrain the turbulence of the nobles, and to moderate the jealousy of the commons. By the wisdom of his domestic government, by the sagacity with which he conducted his foreign operations, and by the high opinion which his subjects entertained of both, he had preserved among them a degree of tranquility, greater than was natural to a constitution, in which the seeds of discord and disorder were so copiously mingled. But, by the death of Ferdinand, these restraints were at once withdrawn; and faction and discontent, from being long repressed, were ready to break out with fiercer animosity.

In order to prevent these evils, Ferdinand had in his last will taken a most prudent precaution, by appointing cardinal Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, to be sole regent of Castile, until the arrival of his grandson in Spain. The singular character of this man, and the extraordinary qualities which marked him out for that office at such a juncture, merit a particular description. He was descended of an honorable, not of a wealthy family; and the circumstances of his parents, as well as his own inclinations, having determined him to enter into the church, he early obtained benefices of great value, and which placed him in the way of the highest preferment. All these, however, he renounced at once; and after undergoing a very severe noviciate, assumed the habit of St. Francis in a monastery of Observantine friars, one of the most rigid orders in the Romish church. There he soon became eminent for his uncommon austerity of manners, and for those excesses of superstitious devotion, which are the proper characteristics of the monastic life. But notwithstanding these extravagances, to which weak and enthusiastic minds alone are usually prone, his understanding, naturally penetrating and decisive, retained its full vigour, and acquired him such great authority in his own order, as raised him to be their provincial. His reputation for sanctity soon procured him the office of father-confessor to queen Isabella, which he accepted with the utmost reluctance. He preserved in a court the same austerity of manners which had distinguished him in the cloister. He continued to make all his journeys on foot; he subsisted only upon alms; his acts of mortification were as severe as ever, and his penances as rigorous. Isabella, pleased with her choice, conferred on him, not long after, the archbishopric of Toledo, which, next to the papacy, is the richest dignity in the church of Rome. This honor he declined with a firmness, which nothing but the authoritative injunction of the pope was able to overcome. Nor did this height of promotion change his manners. Though obliged to display in public that magnificence which became his station, he himself retained his monastic severity. Under his pontifical robes he constantly wore the coarse frock of St. Francis, the rents in which be used to patch with his own hands. He at no time used linen; but was commonly clad in hair-cloth. He slept always in his habit, most frequently on the ground, or on boards, rarely in a bed. He did not taste any of the delicacies which appeared at his table, but satisfied himself with that simple diet which the rule of his order prescribed. Notwithstanding these peculiarities, so opposite to the manners of the world, he possessed a thorough knowledge of its affairs; and no sooner was he called by his station, and by the high opinion which Ferdinand and Isabella entertained of him, to take a principal share in the administration, than he displayed talents for business, which rendered the fame of his wisdom equal to that of his sanctity. His political conduct, remarkable for the boldness and originality of all his plans, flowed from his real character, and partook both of its virtues and its defects. His extensive genius suggested to him schemes vast and magnificent. Conscious of the integrity of his intentions, he pursued these with unremitting and undaunted firmness. Accustomed from his early youth to mortify his own passions, he showed little indulgence towards those of other men. Taught by his system of religion to check even his most innocent desires, he was the enemy of everything to which he could affix the name of elegance or pleasure. Though free from any suspicion of cruelty, he discovered, in all his commerce with the world, a severe inflexibility of mind, and austerity of character, peculiar to the monastic profession, and which can hardly be conceived in a country where that is unknown.

Such was the man to whom Ferdinand committed the regency of Castile; and though Ximenes was then near fourscore, and perfectly acquainted with the labor and difficulty of the office, his natural intrepidity of mind, and zeal for the public good, prompted him to accept of it without hesitation. Adrian of Utrecht, who had been sent into Spain a few months before the death of Ferdinand, produced full powers from the archduke to assume the name and authority of regent, upon the demise of his grand­father; but such was the aversion of the Spaniards to the government of a stranger, and so unequal the abilities of the two competitors, that Adrian’s claim would at once have been rejected, if Ximenes himself, from complaisance to his new master, had not consented to acknowledge him as regent, and to carry on the government in conjunction with him. By this, however, Adrian acquired a dignity merely nominal. Ximenes, though he treated him with great decency, and even respect, retained the whole power in his own hands.

The cardinal’s first care was to observe the motions of the infant Don Ferdinand, who, having been flattered with so near a prospect of supreme power, bore the disappointment of his hopes with greater impatience than a prince at a period of life so early could have been supposed to feel. Ximenes, under pretence of providing more effectually for his safety, removed him from Guadaloupe, the place in which he had been educated, to Madrid, where he fixed the residence of the court. There he was under the cardinal’s own eye, and his conduct, with that of his domestics, was watched with the utmost attention.

The first intelligence he received from the Low Countries, gave greater disquiet to the cardinal, and convinced him how difficult a task it would be to conduct the affairs of an unexperienced prince, under the influence of counselors unacquainted with the laws and manners of Spain. No sooner did the account of Ferdinand’s death reach Brussels, than Charles, by the advice of his Flemish ministers, resolved to assume the title of king. By the laws of Spain, the sole right to the crowns, both of Castile and Aragon, belonged to Joanna; and though her infirmities disqualified her from governing, this incapacity had not been declared by any public act of the Cortes in either kingdom: so that the Spaniards considered this resolution, not only as a direct violation of their privileges, but as an unnatural usurpation in a son on the prerogatives of a mother, towards whom, in her present unhappy situation, he manifested a less delicate regard than her subjects had always expressed. The Flemish court, however, having prevailed both on the pope and on the emperor to address letters to Charles as king of Castile; the former of whom, it was pretended, had a right, as head of the church; and the latter, as head of the empire, to confer this title; instructions were sent to Ximenes, to prevail on the Spaniards to acknowledge it. Ximenes, though he had earnestly remonstrated against the measure, as no less unpopular than unnecessary, resolved to exert all his authority and credit in carrying it into execution, and immediately assembled such of the nobles as were then at court. What Charles required was laid before them; and when, instead of complying with his demands, they began to murmur against such an unprecedented encroachment on their privileges, and to talk high of the rights of Joanna, and their oath of allegiance to her, Ximenes hastily interposed, and with that firm and decisive tone which was natural to him, told them that they were not called now to deliberate, but to obey; that their sovereign did not apply to them for advice, but expected submission; and “this day”, added he, “Charles shall be proclaimed king of Castile in Madrid; and the rest of the cities, I doubt not, will follow its example”. On the spot he gave orders for that purpose [April 13]; and, notwithstanding the novelty of the practice, and the secret discontents of many persons of distinction, Charles’s title was universally recognized. In Aragon, where the privileges of the subject were more extensive, and the abilities as well as authority of the archbishop of Saragossa, whom Ferdinand had appointed regent, were far inferior to those of Ximenes, the same obsequiousness to the will of Charles did not appear, nor was he acknowledged there under any other character but that of prince, until his arrival in Spain.

Ximenes, though possessed only of delegated power, which from his advanced age he could not expect to enjoy long, assumed, together with the character of regent, all the ideas natural to a monarch, and adopted schemes for extending the regal authority, which he pursued with as much intrepidity and ardor, as if he himself had been to reap the advantages resulting from their success. The exorbitant privileges of the Castilian nobles circumscribed the prerogative of the prince within very narrow limits. These privileges the cardinal considered as so many unjust extortions from the crown, and determined to abridge them. Dangerous as the attempt was, there were circumstances in his situation which promised him greater success than any king of Castile could have expected. His strict and prudent economy of his archiepiscopal revenues furnished him with more ready money than the crown could at any time command; the sanctity of his manners, his charity and munificence, rendered him the idol of the people; and the nobles themselves, not suspecting any danger from him, did not observe his motions with the same jealous attention, as they would have watched those of one of their monarchs.

Immediately upon his accession to the regency, several of the nobles fancying that the reins of government would of consequence be somewhat relaxed, began to assemble their vassals, and to prosecute, by force of arms, private quarrels and pretensions, which the authority of Ferdinand had obliged them to dissemble, or to relinquish. But Ximenes, who had taken into pay a good body of troops, opposed and defeated all their designs with unexpected vigour and facility; and though he did not treat the authors of these disorders with any cruelty, he forced them to acts of submission, extremely mortifying to the haughty spirit of Castilian grandees.

But while the cardinal’s attacks were confined to individuals, and every act of rigor was justified by the appearance of necessity, founded on the forms of justice, and tempered with a mixture of lenity, there was scarcely room for jealousy or complaint. It was not so with his next measure, which, by striking at a privilege essential to the nobility, gave a general alarm to the whole order. By the feudal constitution, the military power was lodged in the hands of the nobles, and men of an inferior condition were called into the field only as their vassals, and to follow their banners. A king, with scanty revenues, and a limited prerogative, depended on these potent barons, in all his operations. It was with their forces he attacked his enemies, and with them he defended his kingdom. While at the head of troops attached warmly to their own immediate lords, and accustomed to obey no other commands, his authority was precarious, and his efforts feeble. From this state Ximenes resolved to deliver the crown; and as mercenary standing armies were unknown under the feudal government, and would have been odious to a martial and generous people, he issued a proclamation, commanding every city in Castile to enroll a certain number of its burgesses, in order that they might be trained to the use of arms on Sundays and holydays; he engaged to provide officers to command them at the public expense; and, as an encouragement to the private men, promised them an exemption from all taxes and impositions. The frequent incursions of the Moors from Africa, and the necessity of having some force always ready to oppose them, furnished a plausible pretence for this innovation. The object really in view was to secure the king a body of troops independent of his barons, and which might serve to counterbalance their power. The nobles were not slow in perceiving what was his intention, and saw how effectually the scheme which he had adopted would accomplish his end; but as a measure which had the pious appearance of resisting the progress of the infidels was extremely popular, and as any opposition to it, arising from their order alone, would have been imputed wholly to interested motives, they endeavored to excite the cities themselves to refuse obedience, and to inveigh against the proclamation as inconsistent with their charters and privileges. In consequence of their instigations, Burgos, Valladolid, and several other cities, rose in open mutiny. Some of the grandees declared themselves their protectors. Violent remonstrances were presented to the king. His Flemish counselors were alarmed. Ximenes alone continued firm and undaunted; and partly by terror, partly by entreaty; by force in some instances, and by forbearance in others; he prevailed on all the refractory cities to comply. During his administration, he continued to execute his plan with vigour; but soon after his death it was entirely dropped.

His success in this scheme for reducing the exorbitant power of the nobility, encouraged him to attempt a diminution of their possessions, which were no less exorbitant. During the contests and disorders inseparable from the feudal government, the nobles, ever attentive to their own interest, and taking advantage of the weakness or distress of their monarchs, had seized some parts of the royal demesnes, obtained grants of others, and having gradually wrested almost the whole out of the hands of the prince, had annexed them to their own estates. The titles, by which most of the grandees held these lands, were extremely defective; it was from some successful usurpation, which the crown had been too feeble to dispute, that many derived their only claim to possession. An inquiry carried back to the origin of these encroachments, which were almost coeval with the feudal system, was impracticable; and as it would have stripped every nobleman in Spain of great part of his lands, it must have excited a general revolt. Such a step was too bold, even for the enterprising genius of Ximenes. He confined himself to the reign of Ferdinand; and beginning with the pensions granted during that time, refused to make any farther payment, because all right to them expired with his life. He then called to account such as had acquired crown lands under the administration of that monarch, and at once resumed whatever he had alienated. The effects of these revocations extended to many persons of high rank; for though Ferdinand was a prince of little generosity, yet he and Isabella having been raised to the throne of Castile by a powerful faction of the nobles, they were obliged to reward the zeal of their adherents with great liberality, and the royal demesnes were their only fund for that purpose. The addition made to the revenue of the crown by these revocations, together with his own frugal economy, enabled Ximenes not only to discharge all the debts which Ferdinand had left, and to remit considerable sums to Flanders, but to pay the officers of his new militia, and to establish magazines net only more numerous, but better furnished with artillery, arms, and warlike stores, than Spain had ever possessed in any former age. The prudent and disinterested application of these sums, was a full apology to the people for the rigor with which they were exacted.

The nobles, alarmed at these repeated attacks, began to think of precautions for the safety of their order. Many cabals were formed, loud complaints were uttered, and desperate resolutions taken; but before they proceeded to extremities, they appointed some of their number to examine the powers in consequence of which the cardinal exercised acts of such high authority. The admiral of Castile, the duke de Infantado, and the Conde de Benevento, grandees of the first rank, were entrusted with this commission. Ximenes received them with cold civility, and in answer to their demand, produced the testament of Ferdinand by which he was appointed regent, together with the ratification of that deed by Charles. To both these they objected; and he endeavored to establish their validity. As the conversation grew warm, he led them insensibly towards a balcony, from which they had a view of a large body of troops under arms, and of a formidable train of artillery. “Behold”, says he, pointing to these and raising his voice, “the powers which I have received from his Catholic majesty. With these I govern Castile; and with these I will govern it, until the king your master and mine takes possession of his kingdom”. A declaration so bold and haughty silenced them, and astonished their associates. To take arms against a man aware of his danger, and prepared for his defence, was what despair alone would dictate. All thoughts of a general confederacy against the cardinal’s administration were laid aside; and except from some slight commotions, excited by the private resentment of particular noblemen, the tranquility of Castile suffered no interruption.

It was not only from the opposition of the Spanish nobility that obstacles arose to the execution of the cardinal’s schemes; he had a constant struggle to maintain with the Flemish ministers, who, presuming upon their favor with the young king, aimed at directing the affairs of Spain, as well as those of their own country. Jealous of the great abilities and independent spirit of Ximenes, they considered him rather as a rival who might circumscribe their power, than as a minister, who by his prudence and vigour was adding to the grandeur and authority of their master. Every complaint against his administration was listened to with pleasure by the courtiers in the Low-Countries. Unnecessary obstructions were thrown by their means in the way of all his measures; and though they could not, either with decency or safety, deprive him of the office of regent, they endeavored to lessen his authority by dividing it. They soon discovered that Adrian of Utrecht, already joined with him in office, had neither genius nor spirit sufficient to give the least check to his proceedings; and therefore Charles, by their advice, added to the commission of regency La Chau, a Flemish gentleman, and afterwards Amerstorf, a nobleman of Holland; the former distinguished for his address, the latter for his firmness. Ximenes, though no stranger to the malevolent intention of the Flemish courtiers, received these new associates with all the external marks of distinction due to the office with which they were invested; but when they came to enter upon business, he abated nothing of that air of superiority with which he had treated Adrian, and still retained the sole direction of affairs. The Spaniards, more averse, perhaps, than any other people, to the government of strangers, approved of all his efforts to preserve his own authority. Even the nobles, influenced by this national passion, and forgetting their jealousies and discontents, chose rather to see the supreme power in the hands of one of their countrymen, whom they feared, than in those of foreigners, whom they hated.

Ximenes, though engaged in such great schemes of domestic policy and embarrassed by the artifices and intrigues of the Flemish ministers, had the burden of two foreign wars to support. The one was in Navarre, which was invaded by its unfortunate monarch John d’Albret. The death of Ferdinand, the absence of Charles, the discord and disaffection which reigned among the Spanish nobles, seemed to present him with a favorable opportunity of recovering his dominions. The cardinal’s vigilance, however, defeated a measure so well concerted. As he foresaw the danger to which that kingdom might be exposed, one of his first acts of administration was to order thither a considerable body of troops. While the king was employed with one part of his army in the siege of St. Jean Pied en Port, Villalva, an officer of great experience and courage, attacked the other by surprise, and cut it to pieces. The king instantly retreated with precipitation, and an end was put to the war. But as Navarre was filled at that time with towns and castles slightly fortified, and weakly garrisoned, which being unable to resist an enemy, served only to furnish him with places of retreat; Ximenes, always bold and decisive in his measures, ordered every one of these to be dismantled, except Pampeluna, the fortifications of which he proposed to render very strong. To this uncommon precaution Spain owes the possession of Navarre. The French, since that period, have often entered, and have as often overrun the open country; while they were exposed to all the inconveniences attending an invading army, the Spaniards have easily drawn troops from the neighboring provinces to oppose them; and the French having no place of any strength to which they could retire, have been obliged repeatedly to abandon their conquest with as much rapidity as they gained it.

The other war which he carried on in Africa, against the famous adventurer Horuc Barbarossa, who, from a private corsair, raised himself, by his singular valor and address, to be king of Algiers and Tunis, was far from being equally successful. The ill conduct of the Spanish general, and the rash valor of his troops, presented Barbarossa with an easy victory. Many perished in the battle, more in the retreat, and the remainder returned into Spain covered with infamy. The magnanimity, however, with which the cardinal bore this disgrace, the only one he experienced during his administration, added new luster to his character. Great composure of temper under a disappointment was not expected from a man so remarkable for the eagerness and impatience with which he urged an the execution of all his schemes.

This disaster was soon forgotten; while the conduct of the Flemish court proved the cause of constant uneasiness, not only to the cardinal, but to the whole Spanish nation. All the great qualities of Chièvres, the prime minister and favorite of the young king, were sullied with an ignoble and sordid avarice. The accession of his master to the crown of Spain, opened a new and copious source for the gratification of this passion. During the time of Charles’s residence in Flanders, the whole tribe of pretenders to offices or to favor resorted thither. They soon discovered that, without the patronage of Chièvres, it was vain to hope for preferment; nor did they want sagacity to find out the proper method of securing his protection. Great sums of money were drawn out of Spain. Everything was venal, and disposed of to the highest bidder. After the example of Chièvres, the inferior Flemish ministers engaged in this traffic, which became as general and avowed, as it was infamous. The Spaniards were filled with rage when they beheld offices of great importance to the welfare of their country, set to sail by strangers, unconcerned for its honor or its happiness. Ximenes, disinterested in his whole administration, and a stranger, from his native grandeur of mind, to the passion of avarice, inveighed with the utmost boldness against the venality of the Flemings. He represented to the king, in strong terms, the murmurs and indignation which their behavior excited among a free and high spirited people, and besought him to set out without loss of time for Spain, that, by his presence, he might dissipate the clouds which were gathering all over the kingdom.

Charles was fully sensible that be had delayed too long to take possession of his dominions in Spain. Powerful obstacles, however, stood in his way, and detained him in the Low-Countries. The war which the league of Cambray had kindled in Italy, still subsisted; though during its course, the armies of all the parties engaged in it had changed their destination and their objects. France was now in alliance with Venice, which it had at first combined to destroy. Maximilian and Ferdinand had for some years carried on hostilities against France, their original ally, to the valor of whose troops the confederacy had been indebted in a great measure for its success. Together with his kingdoms, Ferdinand transmitted this war to his grandson; and there was reason to expect that Maximilian, always fond of new enterprises, would persuade the had monarch to enter into it with ardor. But the Flemings, who had long possessed an extensive commerce, which, during the league of Cambray, had grown to a great height upon the ruins of the Venetian trade, dreaded a rupture with France; and Chièvres, sagacious to discern the true interest of his country, and not warped on this occasion by his love of wealth, warmly declared for maintaining peace with the French nation. Francis I destitute of allies, and solicitous to secure his late conquests in Italy by a treaty, listened with joy to the first overtures of accommodation. Chièvres himself conducted the negotiation in the name of Charles. Goutlier appeared as plenipotentiary for Francis. Each of them had presided over the education of the prince whom he represented. They had both adopted the same pacific system; and were equally persuaded that the union of the two monarchs was the happiest event for themselves as well as for their kingdoms. In such hands the negotiation did not languish. A few days after opening their conferences at Noyon, they concluded a treaty of confederacy and mutual defence between the two monarchs [Aug. 13], the chief articles in which were, that Francis should give in marriage to Charles, his eldest daughter, the princess Louise, an infant of a year old, and as her dowry, should make over to him all his claims and pretensions upon the kingdom of Naples; that, in consideration of Charles’s being already in possession of Naples, he should, until the accomplishment of the marriage, pay a hundred thousand crowns a-year to the French king; and the half of that sum annually as long as the princess had no children; that when Charles shall arrive in Spain, the heirs of the king of Navarre may represent to him their right to that kingdom; and if, after examining their claim, he does not give them satisfaction, Francis shall be at liberty to assist them with all his forces. This alliance not only united Charles and Francis, but obliged Maximilian, who was unable alone to cope with the French and Venetians, to enter into a treaty with those powers, which put a final period to the bloody and tedious war that the league of Cambray had occasioned. Europe enjoyed a few years of universal tranquility, and was indebted for that blessing to two princes, whose rivalship and ambition kept it in perpetual discord and agitation during the remainder of their reigns.

By the treaty of Noyon, Charles secured a safe passage into Spain. It was not, however, the interest of his Flemish ministers, that he should visit that kingdom soon. While he resided in Flanders, the revenues of the Spanish crown were spent there, and they engrossed, without any competitors, all the effects of their monarch’s generosity; their country became the seat of government, and all favors were dispensed by them. Of all these advantages they run the risk of seeing themselves deprived, from the moment that their sovereign entered Spain. The Spaniards would naturally assume the direction of their own affairs; the Low-Countries would be considered only as a province of that mighty monarchy; and they who now distributed the favors of the prince to others, must then be content to receive them from the hands of strangers. But what Chièvres chiefly wished to avoid was, an interview between the king and Ximenes. On the one hand, the wisdom, the integrity, and the magnanimity of that prelate, gave him a wonderful ascendant over the minds of men; and it was extremely probable, that these great qualities, added to the reverence due to his age and office, would command the respect of a young prince, who, capable of noble and generous sentiments himself, would, in proportion to his admiration of the cardinal’s virtues, lessen his deference towards persons of another character. Or, on the other hand, if Charles should allow his Flemish favorites to retain all the influence over his councils which they at present possessed, it was easy to foresee that the cardinal would remonstrate loudly against such an indignity to the Spanish nation, and vindicate the rights of his country with the same intrepidity and success, with which he had asserted the prerogatives of the crown. For these reasons, all his Flemish counselors combined to retard his departure; and Charles, unsuspicious, from want of experience, and fond of his native country, suffered himself to be unnecessarily detained in the Netherlands a whole year after signing the treaty of Noyon.

The repeated entreaties of Ximenes, the advice of his grandfather Maximilian, and the impatient murmurs of his Spanish subjects, prevailed on him at last to embark. He was attended not only by Chièvres, his prime minister, but by a numerous and splendid train of the Flemish nobles, fond of beholding the grandeur, or of sharing in the bounty of their prince. After a dangerous voyage, he landed at Villa-Viciosa, in the province of Asturias, [Sept. 121], and was received with such loud acclamations of joy, as a new monarch, whose arrival was so ardently desired, had reason to expect. The Spanish nobility resorted to their sovereign from all parts of the kingdom, and displayed a magnificence which the Flemings were unable to emulate.

Ximenes, who considered the presence of the king as the greatest blessing to his dominions, was advancing towards the coast, as fast as the infirm state of his health would permit, in order to receive him. During his regency, and notwithstanding his extreme old age, he had abated, in no degree, the rigor or frequency of his mortifications; and to these he added such laborious assiduity in business, as would have worn out the most youthful and vigorous constitution. Every day he employed several hours in devotion; he celebrated mass in person; he even allotted some space for study. Notwithstanding these occupations, he regularly attended the council; he received and read all papers presented to him, he dictated letters and instructions; and took under his inspection all business, civil, ecclesiastical, or military. Every moment of his time was filled up with some serious employment. The only amusement in which he indulged himself, by way of relaxation after business, was to canvass, with a few friars and other divines, some intricate article in scholastic theology. Wasted by such a course of life, the infirmities of age daily grew upon him. On his journey, a violent disorder seized him at Bos Equillos, attended with uncommon symptoms, which his followers considered as the effect of poison, but could not agree whether the crime ought to be imputed to the hatred of the Spanish nobles, or to the malice of the Flemish courtiers. This accident obliged him to stop short, he wrote to Charles, and with his usual boldness advised him, to dismiss all the strangers in his train, whose numbers and credit gave offence already to the Spaniards, and would ere long alienate the affections of the whole people. At the same time he earnestly desired to have an interview with the king, that he might inform him of the state of the nation, and the temper of his subjects. To prevent this, not only the Flemings, but the Spanish grandees, employed all their address, and industriously kept Charles at a distance from Aranda, the place to which the cardinal had removed. Through their suggestions, every measure that he recommended was rejected; the utmost care was taken to make him feel, and to point out to the whole nation, that his power was on the decline; even in things purely trivial, such a choice was always made, as was deemed most disagreeable to him. Ximenes did not bear this treatment with his usual fortitude of spirit. Conscious of his own integrity and merit, he expected a more grateful return from a prince, to whom he delivered a kingdom more flourishing than it had been in any former age, together with authority more extensive and better established than the most illustrious of his ancestors had ever possessed. He could not, therefore, on many occasions, refrain from giving vent to his indignation and complaints. He lamented the fate of his country, and foretold the calamities which it would suffer from the insolence, the rapaciousness, and ignorance of strangers. While his mind was agitated by these passions, he received a letter from the king, in which, after a few cold and formal expressions of regard, he was allowed to retire to his dioceses; that after a life of such continued labor, he might end his days in tranquility. This message proved fatal to Ximenes. His haughty mind, it is probable, could not survive disgrace; perhaps his generous heart could not bear the prospect of the misfortunes ready to fall on his country. Whichsoever of these opinions we embrace, certain it is that he expired a few hours after reading the letter [Nov. 8]. The variety, the grandeur, and the success of his schemes, during a regency of only twenty months, leave it doubtful, whether his sagacity in council, his prudence in conduct, or his boldness in execution, deserve the greatest praise. His reputation is still high in Spain, not only for wisdom, but for sanctity; and he is the only prime minister mentioned in history, whom his contemporaries reverenced as a saint, and to whom the people under his government ascribed the power of working miracles.

(1518) The Proclamation of Charles I of Spain

Soon after the death of Ximenes, Charles made his public entry, with great pomp, into Valladolid, whither be had summoned the Cortes of Castile. Though he assumed on all occasions the name of king, that title had never been acknowledged in the Cortes. The Spaniards considered Joanna as possessed of the sole right to the crown, and no example of a son's having enjoyed the title of king during the life of his parents occurring in their history, the Cortes discovered all that scrupulous respect for ancient forms, and that aversion to innovation, which are conspicuous in popular assemblies. The presence, however, of their prince, the address, the artifices, and the threats of his ministers, prevailed on them at last to proclaim him king, in conjunction with his mother, whose name they appointed to be placed before that of her son in all public acts. But when they made this concession, they declared, that if, at any future period, Joanna should recover the exercise of reason, the whole royal authority should return into her hands. At the same time, they voted a free gift of six hundred thousand ducats, to be paid in three years, a sum more considerable than had ever been granted to any former monarch.

Notwithstanding this obsequiousness of the Cortes to the will of the king, the most violent symptoms of dissatisfaction with his government began to break out in the kingdom. Chièvres had acquired over the mind of the young monarch the ascendant, not only of a tutor, but of a parent. Charles seemed to have no sentiments but those which his minister inspired, and scarcely uttered a word but what he put into his mouth. He was constantly surrounded by Flemings; no person got access to him without their permission; nor was any admitted to audience but in their presence. As he spoke the Spanish language very imperfectly, his answers were always extremely short, and often delivered with hesitation. From all these circumstances, many of the Spaniards were led to believe, that he was a prince of a slow and narrow genius. Some pretended to discover a strong resemblance between him and his mother, and began to whisper that his capacity for government would never be far superior to hers; and though they who had the best opportunity of judging concerning his character, maintained, that notwithstanding such unpromising appearances, he possessed a large fund of knowledge, as well as of sagacity; yet all agreed in condemning his partiality towards the Flemings, and his attachment to his favorites, as unreasonable and immoderate. Unfortunately for Charles, these favorites were unworthy of his confidence. To amass wealth seems to have been their only aim: and as they had reason to fear, that either their master’s good sense, or the indignation of the Spaniards, might soon abridge their power, they hastened to improve the present opportunity, and their avarice was the more rapacious, because they expected their authority to be of no long duration. All honors, offices, and benefices, were either engrossed by the Flemings, or publicly sold by them. Chièvres, his wife, and Sauvage, whom Charles, on the death of Ximenes, had imprudently raised to be Chancellor of Castile, vied with each other in all the refinements of extortion and venality. Not only the Spanish historians, who, from resentment, may be suspected of exaggera­tion, but Peter Martyr Angleria, an Italian, who resided at that time in the court of Spain, and who was under no temptation to deceive the persons to whom his letters are addressed, gives a description which is almost incredible, of the insatiable and shameless covetousness of the Flemings. According to Angleria’s calculation, which he asserts to be extremely moderate, they remitted into the Low-Countries, in the space of ten months, no less a sum than a million and one hundred thousand ducats. The nomination of William de Croy, Chièvres’ nephew, a young man not of canonical age, to the archbishopric of Toledo, exasperated the Spaniards more than all these exactions. They considered the elevation of a stranger to the head of their church, and to the richest benefice in the kingdom, not only as an injury, but as an insult to the whole nation; both clergy and laity, the former from interest, the latter from indignation, joined in, exclaiming against it.

Charles leaving Castile thus disgusted with his administration, set out for Saragossa, the capital of Aragon, that he might be present in the Cortes of that kingdom. On his way thither, he took leave of his brother Ferdinand, who he sent to Germany on the pretence of visiting their grandfather, Maximilian, in his old age. To this prudent precaution, Charles owed the preservation of the Spanish dominions. During the violent commotions which arose there soon after this period, the Spaniards would infallibly have offered the crown to a prince, who was the darling of the whole nation; nor did Ferdinand want ambition, or counselors, that might have prompted him to accept of the offer.

The Aragonese had not hitherto acknowledged Charles as king, nor would they allow the Cortes to be assembled in his name, but in that of the Justiza, to whom, during an interregnum, this privilege belonged. The opposition Charles had to struggle with in the Cortes of Aragon, was more violent and obstinate than that which he had overcome in Castile; after long delay’s, however, and with much difficulty, he persuaded the members to confer on him the title of king, in conjunction with his mother. At the same time he bound himself by that solemn oath, which the Aragonese exacted of their kings, never to violate any of their rights or liberties. When a donative was demanded, the members were still more intractable; many months elapsed before they would agree to grant Charles two hundred thousand ducats, and that sum they appropriated so strictly for paying the debts of the crown, which had long been forgotten, that a very small part of it came into the king’s hands. What had happened in Castile taught them caution, and determined them rather to satisfy the claims of their fellow-citizens, how obsolete soever, than to furnish strangers the means of enriching themselves with the spoils of their country.

During these proceedings of the Cortes, ambassadors arrived at Saragossa from Francis I and the young king of Navarre, demanding the restitution of that kingdom in terms of' the treaty of Noyon. But neither Charles, nor the Castilian nobles whom he consulted on this occasion, discovered any inclination to part with this acquisition. A conference held soon after at Montpelier, in order to bring this matter to an amicable issue, was altogether fruitless; while the French urged the injustice of the usurpation, the Spaniards were attentive only to its importance.

From Aragon Charles proceeded (1519) to Catalonia, where he wasted as much time, encountered more difficulties, and gained less money. The Flemings were now become so odious in every province of Spain by their exactions, that the desire of mortifying them, and of disappointing their avarice, augmented the jealousy with which a free people usually conducted their deliberations.

The Castilians, who had felt most sensibly the weight and rigor of the oppressive schemes carried on by the Flemings, resolved no longer to submit with a tameness fatal to themselves, and which rendered them the objects of scorn to their fellow-subjects in the other kingdoms, of which the Spanish monarchy was composed. Segovia, Toledo, Seville, and several other cities of the first rank, entered into a confederacy for the defence of their rights and privileges; and notwithstanding the silence of the nobility, who, on this occasion, discovered neither the public spirit, nor the resolution which became their order, the confederates laid before the king a full view of the state of the kingdom, and of the maladministration of his favorites. The preferment of strangers, the exportation of the current coin, the increase of taxes, were the grievances of which they chiefly complained; and of these they demanded redress with that boldness which is natural to a free people. These remonstrances, presented at first at Saragossa, and renewed afterwards at Barcelona, Charles treated with great neglect. The confederacy, however, of these cities, at this juncture, was the beginning of that famous union among the commons of Castile, which not long after threw the kingdom into such violent convulsions as shook the throne, and almost overturned the constitution.

Soon after Charles’s arrival at Barcelona, he received the account of an event which interested him much more than the murmurs of the Castilians, or the scruples of the Cortes of Catalonia. This was the death of the emperor Maximilian [Jan. 12]; an occurrence of small importance in itself, for he was a prince conspicuous neither for his virtues, nor his power, nor his abilities; but rendered by its consequences more memorable than any that had happened during several ages. It broke that profound and universal peace which then signed in the Christian world; it excited a rivalship between two princes, which threw all Europe into agitation, and kindled wars more general, and of longer duration, than had hitherto been known in modern times.

The revolutions occasioned by the expedition of the French king, Charles VIII into Italy, had inspired the European princes with new ideas concerning the importance of the Imperial dignity. The claims of the empire upon some of the Italian states were numerous; its jurisdiction over others was extensive; and though the former had been almost abandoned, and the latter seldom exercised, under princes of slender abilities and of little influence, it was obvious, that in the hands of an emperor possessed of power or of genius, they might be employed as engines for stretching his dominion over the greater part of that country. Even Maximilian, feeble and unsteady as his conduct always was, had availed himself of the infinite pretensions of the empire, and had reaped advantage from every war and every negotiation in Italy during his reign. These considerations, added to the dignity of the station, confessedly the first among Christian princes, and to the rights inherent in the office, which, if exerted with vigour, were far from being inconsiderable, rendered the Imperial crown more than ever an object of ambition.

Charles V of Germany, King of the Romans

Not long before his death, Maximilian had discovered great solicitude to preserve this dignity in the Austrian family, and to procure the king of Spain to be chosen his successor. But he himself having never been crowned by the pope, a ceremony deemed essential in that age, was considered only as emperor elect. Though historians have not attended to that distinction, neither the Italian nor German chancery bestowed any other title upon him than that of king of the Romans; and no example occurring in history of any person's being chosen a successor to a king of the Romans, the Germans, always tenacious of their forms, and unwilling to confer upon Charles an office for which their constitution knew no name, obstinately refused to gratify Maximilian in that point.

By his death, this difficulty was at once removed, and Charles openly aspired to that dignity which his grandfather had attempted, without success, to secure for him. At the same time Francis I, a powerful rival, entered the lists against him; and the attention of all Europe was fixed upon this competition, no less illustrious from the high rank of the candidates, than from the importance of time prize for which they contended. Each of them urged his pretensions with sanguine expectations, and with no unpromising prospect of success. Charles considered the Imperial crown as belonging to him of right, from its long continuance in the Austrian line; he knew that none of the German princes possessed power or influence enough to appear as his antagonist; he flattered himself that no consideration would induce the natives of Germany to exalt any foreign prince to a dignity, which during so many ages had been deemed peculiar to their own nation; and least of all, that they would confer this honor upon Francis I, the sovereign of a people whose genius, and laws, and manners, differed so widely from those of the Germans, that it was hardly possible to establish any cordial union between them; he trusted not a little to the effect of Maximilian’s negotiations, which, though they did not attain their end, had prepared the minds of the Germans for his elevation to the Imperial throne; but what he relied on as a chief recommendation, was the fortunate situation of his hereditary dominions in Germany, which served as a natural barrier to the empire against the encroachments of the Turkish power. The conquests, the abilities, and the ambition of Sultan Selim II had spread over Europe, at that time, a general and well-founded alarm. By his victories over the Mamelukes, and the extirpation of that gallant body of men, he had not only added Egypt and Syria to his empire, but had secured to it such a degree of internal tranquility, that he was ready to turn against Christendom the whole force of his arms, which nothing hitherto had been able to resist. The most effectual expedient for stopping the progress of this torrent, seemed to be the election of an emperor, possessed of extensive territories in that country, where its first impression would be felt, and who, besides, could combat this formidable enemy with all the forces of a powerful monarchy, and with all the wealth furnished by the mines of the new world, or the commerce of the Low Countries. These were the arguments by which Charles publicly supported his claim; and to men of integrity and reflection, they appeared to be not only plausible but convincing. He did not, however, trust the success of his cause to these alone. Great sums of money were remitted from Spain; all the refinements and artifice of negotiation were employed; and a considerable body of troops, kept on foot, at that time, by the states of the Circle of Suabia, was secretly taken into his pay. The venal were gained by presents; the objections of the more scrupulous were answered or eluded; some feeble princes were threatened and overawed.

On the other hand, Francis supported his claim with equal eagerness, and no less confidence of its being well founded. His emissaries contended that it was now high time to convince the princes of the house of Austria that the Imperial crown was elective, and not hereditary; that other persons might aspire to an honor which their arrogance had accustomed them to regard as the property of their family; that it required a sovereign of mature judgment, and of approved abilities, to hold the reins of government in a country where such unknown opinions concerning religion had been published, as had thrown the minds of men into an uncommon agitation, which threatened the most violent effects; that a young prince, without experience, and who had hitherto given no specimens of his genius for command, was no fit match for Selim, a monarch grown old in the art of war, and in the course of victory; whereas a king who in his early youth had triumphed over the valor and discipline of the Swiss, till then reckoned invincible, would be an antagonist not unworthy the conqueror of the East; that the fire and impetuosity of the French cavalry, added to the discipline and stability of the German infantry, would form an army so irresistible, that, instead of waiting the approach of the Ottoman forces, it might carry hostilities into the heart of their dominions; that the election of Charles would be inconsistent with the fundamental constitution, by which the person who holds the crown of Naples is excluded from aspiring to the Imperial dignity; that his elevation to that honor would soon kindle a war in Italy, on account of his pretensions to the duchy of Milan, the effects of which could not fail of reaching the empire, and might prove fatal to it. But while the French ambassadors enlarged upon these and other topics of the same kind, in all the courts of Germany, Francis, sensible of the prejudices entertained against him as a foreigner, unacquainted with the German language or manners, endeavored to overcome these, and to gain the favor of the princes by immense gifts, and by infinite promises. As the expeditious method of transmitting money, and the decent mode of conveying a bribe, by bills of exchange, were then little known, the French ambassadors travelled with a train of horses loaded with treasure, an equipage not very honorable for that prince by whom they were employed, and infamous for those to whom they were sent.

The other European princes could not remain indifferent spectators of a contest, the decision of which so nearly affected every one of them. Their common interest ought naturally to have formed a general combination, in order to disappoint both competitors, and to prevent either of them from obtaining such a preeminence in power and dignity, as might prove dangerous to the liberties of Europe. But the ideas with respect to a proper distribution and balance of power were so lately introduced into the system of European policy, that they were not hitherto objects of sufficient attention. The passions of some princes, the want of foresight in others, and the fear of giving offence to the candidates, hindered such a salutary union of the powers of Europe, and rendered them either totally negligent of the public safety, or kept them from exerting themselves with vigour in its behalf.

The Swiss Cantons, though they dreaded the elevation of either of the contending monarchs, and though they wished to have seen some prince whose dominions were less extensive, and whose power was more moderate, seated on the Imperial throne, were prompted, however, by their hatred of the French nation, to give an open preference to the pretensions of Charles, while they used their utmost influence to frustrate those of Francis.

The Venetians easily discerned, that it was the interest of their republic to have both the rivals set aside; but their jealousy of the house of Austria, whose ambition and neighborhood had been fatal to their grandeur, would not permit them to act up to their own ideas, and led them hastily to give the sanction of their approbation to the claim of the French king.

It was equally the interest, and more in the power of Henry VIII of England, to prevent either Francis or Charles from acquiring a dignity which would raise them so far above other monarchs. But though Henry often boasted that he held the balance of Europe in his hand, he had neither the steady attention, the accurate discernment, nor the dispassionate temper which that delicate function required. On this occasion, it mortified his vanity so much, to think that he had not entered early into that noble competition which reflected such honor upon the two antagonists, that he took a resolution of sending an ambassador into Germany, and of declaring himself a candidate for the Imperial throne. The ambassador, though loaded with caresses by the German princes and the pope’s nuncio, informed his master, that he could hope for no success in a claim which he had been so late in preferring. Henry, imputing his disappointment to that circumstance alone, and soothed with this ostentatious display of his own importance, seems to have taken no farther part in the matter, either by contributing to thwart both his rivals, or to promote one of them.

Leo X, a pontiff no less renowned for his political abilities, than for his love of the arts, was the only prince of the age who observed the motions of the two contending monarchs with a prudent attention, or who discovered a proper solicitude for the public safety. The imperial and papal jurisdiction interfered in so many instances, the complaints of usurpation were so numerous on both sides, and the territories of the church owed their security so little to their own force, and so much to the weakness of the powers around them, that nothing was so formidable to the court of Rome as an emperor with extensive dominions, or of enterprising genius. Leo trembled at the prospect of beholding the Imperial crown placed on the head of the king of Spain and of Naples and the master of the new world; nor was he less afraid of seeing a king of France, who was the duke of Milan and lord of Genoa, exalted to that dignity. He foretold that the election of either of them would be fatal to the independence of the holy see, to the peace of Italy, and perhaps to the liberties of Europe. But to oppose them with any prospect of success, required address and caution in proportion to the greatness of their power, and their opportunities of taking revenge. Leo was defective in neither. He secretly exhorted the German princes to place one of their own number on the Imperial throne, which many of them were capable of filling with honor. He put them in mind of the constitution by which the kings of Naples were forever excluded from that dignity. He warmly exhorted the French king to persist in his claim, not from any desire that he should gain his end, but as he foresaw that the Germans would be more disposed to favor the king of Spain, he hoped that Francis himself, when he discovered his own chance of success to be desperate, would be stimulated by resentment and the spirit of rivalship, to concur with all his interest in raising some third person to the head of the empire; or, on the other hand, if Francis should make an unexpected progress, he did not doubt but that Charles would be induced by similar motives to act the same part; and thus, by a prudent attention, the mutual jealousy of the two rivals might be so dexterously managed, as to disappoint both. But this scheme, the only one which a prince in Leo’s situation could adopt, though concerted with great wisdom, was executed with little discretion. The French ambassadors in Germany fed their master with vain hopes; the pope’s nuncio, being gained by them, altogether forgot the instructions which he had received; and Francis persevered so long and with such obstinacy in urging his own pretensions, as rendered all Leo’s measures abortive.

Such were the hopes of the candidates, and the views of the different princes, when the diet was opened according to form at Frankfort [June 17]. The right of choosing an emperor had long been vested in seven great princes, distinguished by the name of electors, the origin of whose office, as well as the nature and extent of their powers, have already been explained. These were at that time, Albert of Brandenburgh, archbishop of Mentz (Mayence); Herman count de Wied, archbishop of Cologne; Richard de Grieffenklau, archbishop of Triers; Lewis, king of Bohemia; Lewis, count palatine of the Rhine; Frederic, duke of Saxony; and Joachim I, marquis of Brandenburgh. Notwithstanding the artful arguments produced by the ambassadors of the two kings in favor of their respective masters, and in spite of all their solicitations, intrigues, and presents, the electors did not forget that maxim on which the liberty of the German constitution was thought to be founded. Among the members of the Germanic body, which is a great republic composed of states almost independent, the first principle of patriotism is to depress and limit the power of the emperor; and of this idea, so natural under such a form of government, a German politician seldom loses sight. No prince of considerable power, or extensive dominions, had for some ages been raised to the Imperial throne. To this prudent precaution many of the great families in Germany owed the splendor and independence which they had acquired during that period. To elect either of the contending monarchs, would have been a gross violation of that salutary maxim; would have given to the empire a master instead of a head; and would have reduced themselves from the rank of being almost his equals, to the condition of his subjects.

Full of these ideas, all the electors turned their eyes towards Frederic, duke of Saxony, a prince of such eminent virtue and abilities, as to be distinguished by the name of the Sage, and with one voice they offered him the Imperial crown. He was not dazzled with that object, which monarchs, so far superior to him in power, courted with such eagerness; and after deliberating upon the matter a short time, he rejected it with a magnanimity and disinterestedness no less singular than admirable. “Nothing”, he observed, “could be more impolitic, than an obstinate adherence to a maxim which, though sound and just in many cases, was not applicable to all. In times of tranquility (said he) we wish for an emperor who has not power to invade our liberties; times of danger demand one who is able to secure our safety. The Turkish armies, led by a gallant and victorious monarch, are now assembling . They are ready to pour in upon Germany with a violence unknown in former ages. New conjunctures call for new expedients. The Imperial scepter must be committed to some hand more powerful than mine, or that of any other German prince. We possess neither dominions, nor revenues, nor authority, which enables us to encounter such a formidable enemy. Recourse must be had, in this exigency, to one of the rival monarchs. Each of them can bring into the field forces sufficient for our defence. But as the king of Spain is of German extraction; as he is a member and prince of the empire by the territories which descend to him from his grandfather; as his dominions stretch along that frontier which lies most exposed to the enemy; his claim is preferable, in my opinion, to that of a stranger to our language, to our blood, and to our country; and therefore I give my vote to confer on him the Imperial crown”.

This opinion, dictated by such uncommon generosity, and supported by arguments so plausible, made a deep impression on the electors. The king of Spain’s ambassadors, sensible of the important service which Frederic had done their master, sent him a considerable sum of money as the first token of that prince’s gratitude. But he who had greatness of mind to refuse a crown, disdained to receive a bribe; and, upon their entreating that at least he would permit them to distribute part of that sum among his attendants, he replied “that he could not prevent them from accepting what should be offered, but whoever took a single florin should he dismissed next morning from his service”.

No prince in Germany could now aspire to a dignity, which Frederic had declined, for reasons applicable to them all. It remained to make a choice between the two great competitors. But besides the prejudice in Charles’s favor arising from his birth, as well as the situation of his German dominions, he owed not a little to the abilities of the cardinal de Gurk, and the zeal of Erard de la Mark, bishop of Liege, two of his ambassadors, who had conducted their negotiations with more prudence and address than those entrusted by the French king. The former, who had long been the minister and favorite of Maximilian, was well acquainted with the art of managing the Germans; and the latter, having been disappointed of a cardinal’s hat by Francis, employed all the malicious ingenuity with which the desire of revenge inspires an ambitious mind, in thwarting the measures of that monarch. The Spanish party among the electors daily gained ground; and even the pope’s nuncio, being convinced that it was vain to make any further opposition, endeavored to acquire some merit with the future emperor, by offering voluntarily, in the name of his master, a dispensation to hold the Imperial crown in conjunction with that of Naples.

On the twenty-eighth day of June, five months and ten days after the death of Maximilian, this important contest, which had held an Europe in suspense, was decided. Six of the electors had already declared for the king of Spain; and the archbishop of Triers, the only firm adherent to the French interest, having at last joined his brethren, Charles was, by the unanimous voice of the electoral college, raised to the Imperial throne.

But though the electors consented, from various motives, to promote Charles to that high station, they discovered, at the same time, great jealousy of his extraordinary power, and endeavored, with the utmost solicitude, to provide against his encroaching on the privileges of the Germanic body. It had long been the custom to demand of every new emperor a confirmation of these privileges, and to require a promise that he would never violate them in any instance. While princes, who were formidable neither from extent of territory, nor of genius, possessed the Imperial throne, a general and verbal engagement to this purpose was deemed sufficient. But under an emperor so powerful as Charles, other precautions seemed necessary. A Capitulation or claim of right was formed, in which the privileges and immunities of the electors, of the princes of the empire, of the cities, and of every other member of the Germanic body, are enumerated. This capitulation was immediately signed by Charles’s ambassadors in the name of their master, and he himself, at his coronation, confirmed it in the most solemn manner. Since that period, the electors have continued to prescribe the same conditions to all his successors; and the capitulation or mutual contract between the emperor and his subjects, is considered in Germany as a strong barrier against the progress of the Imperial power, and as the great charter of their liberties, to which they often appeal.

The important intelligence of this election was conveyed in nine days from Frankfort to Barcelona, where Charles was still detained by the obstinacy of the Catalonian Cortes, which had not hitherto brought to an issue any of the affairs which came before it. He received the account with the joy natural to a young and aspiring mind, on an accession of power and dignity. which raised him so far above the other princes of Europe. Then it was that those vast prospects, which allured him during his whole administration, began to open, and from this era we may date the formation, and are able to trace the gradual progress, of a grand system of enterprising ambition, which renders the history of his reign so worthy of attention.

The Spanish Reaction

A trivial circumstance first discovered the effects of this great elevation upon the mind of Charles. In all the public writs which he now issued as king of Spain, he assumed the title of Majesty, and required it from his subjects as a mark of their respect. Before that time, all the monarchs of Europe were satisfied with the appellation of Highness or Grace; but the vanity of other courts soon led them to imitate the example of the Spanish. The epithet of Majesty is no longer a mark of preeminence. The most inconsiderable monarchs in Europe enjoy it, and the arrogance of the greater potentates has invented no higher denomination.

The Spaniards were far from viewing the promotion of their king to the Imperial throne with the same satisfaction which he himself felt. To be deprived of the presence of their sovereign, and to be subjected to the government of a viceroy and his council, a species of administration often oppressive, and always disagreeable, were the immediate and necessary consequences of this new dignity. To see the blood of their countrymen shed in quarrels wherein the nation had no concern; to behold its treasure wasted in supporting the splendor of a foreign title; to be plunged in the chaos of Italian and German politics, were effects of this event almost as unavoidable. From all these considerations, they concluded, that nothing could have happened more pernicious to the Spanish nation; and the fortitude and public spirit of their ancestors, who, in the Cortes of Castile, prohibited Alphonso the Wise from leaving the kingdom, in order to receive the Imperial crown, were often mentioned with the highest praise, and pronounced to be extremely worthy of imitation at this juncture.

But Charles, without regarding the sentiments or murmurs of his Spanish subjects, accepted of the Imperial dignity, which the count palatine, at the head of a solemn embassy, offered him in the name of the electors [November]; and declared his intention of setting out soon for Germany in order to take possession of it. This was the more necessary, because, according to the Forms of the German constitution, he could not, before the ceremony of a public coronation, exercise any act of jurisdiction or authority.

Their certain knowledge of this resolution augmented so much the disgust of the Spaniards, that a sullen and refractory spirit prevailed among persons of all ranks. The pope having granted the king the tenths of all ecclesiastical benefices in Castile, to assist him in carrying on war with greater vigor against the Turks, a convocation of the clergy unanimously refused to levy that sum, upon pretence that it ought never to be exacted but at those times when Christendom was actually invaded by the Infidels; and though Leo, in order to support his authority, laid the kingdom under an interdict, so little regard was paid to a censure which was universally deemed unjust, that Charles himself applied to have it taken off. Thus the Spanish clergy, besides their merit in opposing the usurpations of the pope, and disregarding the influence of the crown, gained the exemption which they had claimed.

The commotions which arose in the kingdom of Valencia, annexed to the crown of Aragon, were more formidable, and produced more dangerous and lasting effects. A seditious monk having, by his sermons, excited the citizens of Valencia, the capital city, to take arms, and to punish certain criminals in a tumultuary manner, the people, pleased with this exercise of power, and with such a discovery of their own importance, not only refused to lay down their arms, but formed themselves into troops and companies, that they might be regularly trained to martial exercises. To obtain some security against the oppression of the grandees was the motive of this association, and proved a powerful bond of union; for as the aristocratical privileges and independence were more complete in Valencia than in any other of the Spanish kingdoms, the nobles, being scarcely accountable for their conduct to any superior, treated the people not only as vassals, but as slaves. They were alarmed, however, at the progress of this unexpected insurrection, as it might encourage the people to attempt shaking off the yoke altogether; but as they could not repress them without taking arms, it became necessary to have recourse to the emperor, and to desire his permission to attack them. At the same time the people made choice of deputies to represent their grievances, and to implore the protection of their sovereign. Happily for the latter, they arrived at court when Charles was exasperated to a high degree against the nobility. As he was eager to visit Germany, where his presence became every day more necessary, and as his Flemish courtiers were still more impatient to return into their native country, that they might carry thither the spoils which they had amassed in Castile, it was impossible for him to hold the Cortes of Valencia in person. He had for that reason empowered the Cardinal Adrian to represent him in that assembly, and in his name to receive their oath of allegiance, to confirm their privileges with the usual solemnities, and to demand of them a free gift. But the Valencian nobles, who considered this measure as an indignity to their country, which was no less entitled, than his other kingdoms, to the honor of their sovereign’s presence, declared, that by the fundamental laws of the constitution they could neither acknowledge as king a person who was absent, nor grant him any subsidy; and to this declaration they adhered with a haughty and inflexible obstinacy. Charles, piqued by their behavior, decided in favor of the people, and rashly authorized them to continue in arms. The deputies returned in triumph, and were received by their fellow-citizens as the deliverers of their country. The insolence of the multitude increasing with their success, they expelled all the nobles out of the city, committed the government to magistrates of their own election, and entered into an association distinguished by the name of Germanada or Brotherhood, which proved the source not only of the wildest disorders, but of the most fatal calamities in that kingdom.

Meanwhile, the kingdom of Castile was agitated with no less violence. No sooner was the emperor’s intention to leave Spain made known, than several cities of the first rank resolved to remonstrate against it, and to crave redress once more of those grievances which they had formerly laid before him. Charles artfully avoided admitting their deputies to audience; and as he saw from this circumstance how difficult it would be, at this juncture, to restrain the mutinous spirit of the greater cities, he summoned the Cortes of Castile to meet at Compostella, a town in Galicia. His only reason for calling that assembly, was the hope of obtaining another donative; for as his treasury had been exhausted in the same proportion that the riches of his ministers increased, he could not, without some additional aid, appear in Germany with splendor suited to the Imperial dignity. To appoint a meeting of the Cortes in so remote a province, and to demand a new subsidy before the time for paying the former was expired, were innovations of' a most dangerous tendency; and among a people not only jealous of their liberties, but accustomed to supply the wants of their sovereigns with a very frugal hand, excited an universal alarm. The magistrates of Toledo remonstrated against both these measures in a very high tone; the inhabitants of Valladolid, who expected that the Cortes should have been held in that city, were so enraged, that they took arms in a tumultuary manner; and if Charles, with his foreign counselors, had not fortunately made their escape during a violent tempest, they would have massacred all the Flemings, and have prevented him from continuing his journey towards Compostella.

Every city through which he passed, petitioned against holding a Cortes in Galicia, a point with regard to which Charles was inflexible. But though the utmost influence had been exerted by the ministers, in order to procure a choice of representatives favorable to their designs, such was the temper of the nation, that, at the opening of the assembly [April] there appeared among many of the members unusual symptoms of ill-humor, which threatened a fierce opposition to all the measures of the court. No representatives were sent by Toledo; for the lot, according to which, by ancient custom, the election was determined in that city, having fallen upon two persons devoted to the Flemish ministers, their fellow-citizens refused to grant them a commission in the usual form, and in their stead made choice of two deputies, whom they empowered to repair to Compostella, and to protest against the lawfulness of the Cortes assembled there. The representatives of Salamanca refused to take the usual oath of fidelity, unless Charles consented to change the place of meeting. Those of Toro, Madrid, Cordova, and several other places, declared the demand of another donative to be unprecedented, unconstitutional, and unnecessary. All the arts, however, which influence popular assemblies, bribes, promises, threats, and even force, were employed, in order to gain members. The nobles, soothed by the respectful assiduity with which Chièvres and the other Flemings paid court to them, or instigated by a mean jealousy of that spirit of independence which they saw rising among the commons, openly favored the pretensions of the court, or at the utmost did not oppose them, and at last, in contempt not only of the sentiments of the nation, but of the ancient forms of the constitution, a majority voted to grant the donative for which the emperor had applied. Together with this grant, the Cortes laid before Charles a representation of those grievances whereof his people complained, and in their name craved redress; but he, having obtained from them all he could expect, paid no attention to this ill-timed petition, which it was no longer dangerous to disregard.

As nothing now retarded his embarkation, he disclosed his intention with regard to the regency of Castile during his absence, which he had hitherto kept secret, and nominated cardinal Adrian to that office. The viceroyalty of Aragon he conferred on Don John de Lanuza; that of Valencia on Don Diego de Mendoza, Conde de Melito. The choice of the two latter was universally acceptable; but the advancement of Adrian, though the only Fleming who had preserved any reputation among the Spaniards, animated the Castilians with new hatred against foreigners; and even the nobles, who had so tamely suffered other inroads upon the constitution, felt the indignity offered to their own order by his promotion, and remonstrated against it as illegal. But Charles’s desire of visiting Germany, as well as the impatience of his ministers to leave Spain, were now so much increased, that without attending to the murmurs of the Castilians, or even taking time to provide any remedy against an insurrection in Toledo, which at that time threatened, and afterwards produced, most formidable effects, he sailed from Corunna on the 22d of May and by setting out so abruptly in quest of a new crown, he endangered a more important one of which he was already in possession.

BOOK II

HENRY VIII, OF THE UNITED KINGDOMS