66 cap on his head-Dutch-like, having a seam over the crown, like a great cod-piece. I saw him also on St. Andrew's Day, sitting at "dinner at the feast of the Golden Fleece; he and Ferdinando "[King of the Romans both under one cloth of estate; then the "Prince of Spain; all of one side, as the Knights of the Garter do in "England. I stood hard by the Emperor's table. He "had four courses; he had sod beef-very good, roast mutton, baked "hare; these be no service in England. The Emperor hath a good "face, a constant look; he fed well of a capon; I have had a better "from mine hostess Barnes many times in my chamber. He and "Ferdinando eat together very handsomely, carving themselves where they list, without any curiosity. The Emperor drank the best that "ever I saw; he had his head in the glass five times as long as any "of us, and never drank less than a good quart at once of Rhenish "wine."*

'Marino Cavalli, ambassador of Venice at the imperial court in 1551, describes the Emperor in his fifty-first year, as "in very bad health on "account of the fits of gout which torment him horribly all winter, "and sometimes at other seasons. The doctors say the disorder has "begun to attack his head, and being there might cut him off suddenly. "He has been also many times afflicted with asthma; and were it not "for careful diet and medicines he would not now be alive, and every แ one says that his life will be short."

Early in 1554 his health and spirits were so much shaken that the French ambassador at Constantinople was instructed to inform Solyman the Magnificent that his great Christian rival had lost the use of an arm and a leg; that he was utterly unfit for business, and spent his time in taking watches to pieces and putting them together again; that he was gradually going out of his mind; and that his sister, the Queen of Hungary, permitted him to be seen only at the far end of a long gallery, where he showed himself sitting in his chair, and looking more like a statue than a man. In spite, however, of apparent incapacity, he that year succeeded, greatly to the chagrin of France, in adding the crown-matrimonial of England to the many diadems which were to be worn by his son Philip. But in writing to Mary Tudor to thank her for agreeing to become his daughter-in-law, he was obliged to use the hand of the Queen of Hungary, his own being disabled by gout.

'At his abdication of the sovereignty of the dominions of Burgundy, on the 25th of October, 1555, he was able to ride his mule from his lodge in the park at Bruxelles to the palace where the ceremony was held in the great hall. In walking to his place he was observed to support himself on his staff, as well as on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, on whom he leaned when he rose to speak; and in the middle of his speech he was obliged to sit down to rest.

Letter, dated Augsburg, 20 Jan. 1551, to Edward Raven, in The Whole Works of Roger Ascham. London, 1864-5. 3 vols. 8°, part i. letter cxvi. pp. 243-271. The passage quoted occurs at p. 267, and the letter is a very graphic journal of the writer's observations from the d of Oct. 1550-the date of his leaving England for Germany.'

'On Palm Sunday 1556, he received the Admiral de Coligny, ambassador of France, for the truce between Philip II. and Henry II. The Frenchman and his brilliant following, who nearly filled the small room in the Imperial lodge, found Charles dressed in a citizen's black gown of Florence serge, and a Mantua bonnet, sitting beside his black writing-table. When the letter of the French king was put into the Emperor's hand, it was with some difficulty that his gouty fingers broke the broad official seal. "What will you say of me, my Lord "Admiral?" said he; "am I not a brave cavalier to break a lance with; "I, who can hardly open a letter?"

The Venetian ambassador, Badoer, who saw him soon afterwards, reported that he found him "in very good bodily health, and more "cheerful in his eyes and movements than I had ever seen him before." But during the eleven months which elapsed between his abdication and his embarkation for Spain, he was frequently confined to bed; and his general condition may be judged of by the assurance given by himself to an Italian visitor, whom he wished to persuade of the reality of his removal to Spain, which had been much doubted :-" I will 'certainly go, even if I have to be thrown on shipboard like a wool"pack."

Our limits forbid us to dwell on the memorable scene of the capture of Francis I. at Pavia, admirably related from the Chronicles of Sandoval; but the portraiture of the age of Charles V. would be incomplete without the following graphic sketch of his great rival, as he appeared on the morning of the battle.

'The King of France in his armour went about from squadron to squadron, and he wore over his mail a surcoat of brocade and brown velvet chequer wise, with many F's embroidered thereon in velvet on the brocade and in brocade on the velvet, and with cords of gold and brown silk. On his helmet he wore a great yellow and brown plume, the feathers drooping down to the horse's flanks, and from the midst of them rose a brown pennon with a red salamander, having above it a great gilt F, and round it the words, "Ista vice et non plus," which means, "This time, and no more." This motto he bore because he thought on that day certainly to make himself lord of Italy.'

Everybody knows the result, which has been described by Sir William with great animation, down to the liberation of the King. The celebrated mot attributed to Francis, Tout 'est perdu fors l'honneur!' has unfortunately evaporated under the touch of M. Fournier and modern inquirers. The truth is, that the captive King was allowed to write to his mother a letter of some twenty lines, in which the words occur, ' de toutes 'choses ne m'est demouré que l'honneur et la vie qui est sauve.'

We pass over the sack of Rome by the Constable, and the death of that personage, which forms the third of Heemskerck's

subjects, and proceed to the siege of Clement VII. in St. Angelo, admirably and humorously described in the following passage:

'The castle of St. Angelo was strong enough to afford the sovereign Pontiff a tolerably secure refuge from the tumultuous fury of the Roman people, but not strong enough and not sufficiently provided to stand a regular siege. It was, however, several days before the Prince of Orange could recall from the delights of the sack troops enough to invest the place. The siege, when formed, was languidly carried on; and for four weeks, at a given hour of the night, Benvenuto Cellini, who was set as chief artilleryman over the four guns in the Angel battery, the highest in the fortress, continued to discharge three of them and light three beacon-fires, in sign to the friends of the Papal cause that the castle still held out. Clement VII. had fair grounds for expecting relief from the army of the League. The Duke of Urbino commanded that army; and the Signory of Venice, whose general the Duke was, peremptorily ordered him to rescue the Holy Father, even at the risk of a battle. Urbino therefore detached Guido Rangone with the Papal troops to take post at Montemario, three miles from Rome, he himself leading the rest of his force thither by another road. For a few hours Rangone's welcome banners were seen from the Castle of St. Angelo, but the Pope had the vexation to see them again disappear to the northwards. Meanwhile the unfortunate Pope was left to the recreations of watching Cellini bisect swaggering Spanish colonels with his swivel gun, or superintending the same artist in the melancholy process of breaking up Papal and Medicean jewels, melting the gold, and sewing the gems into the Pontifical body-clothes. Whatever the jealousies and the treacheries of the rest of the garrison, the bold sculptor, if we are to believe his own story, at least did his duty. By the accuracy of his gunnery, and his fertility in shifts and surprises, he astonished both friend and foe; and having already killed Bourbon, he very nearly did as much for Orange, wounding him severely in the face and killing the mule on which he was ambling round the trenches.

'From the day when he entered St. Angelo, Clement, while in frequent communication with the army of the League, had been more or less engaged in treating or intriguing with the enemy. On the 7th of May he sent for Gattinara, imperial commissioner attached to the army, and had many interviews with him during that month; the artillery and harquebus practice going on on both sides unabated. Repairing to one of these consultations, Gattinara received a ball through his right arm, which disabled him for some time from using his pen. Clement was plainly in a state of abject terror, willing to purchase his safety at the price of any humiliation. He was wholly oblivious to what was due to the dignity of his crown and the justice of his cause. Three months had scarcely passed since he had made eight months' truce with the Emperor, but the Imperial troops had nevertheless sacked his capital, outraged his cardinals and prelates, stabled their horses in the Vatican and St. Peter's, and were now besieging his own sacred person in St. Angelo. But instead of remonstrating with the

Emperor's representatives against this flagrant breach of faith, his language was that of a man who had offended and wronged a powerful master, and desired forgiveness and peace on any terms. In the presence of thirteen cardinals the poor man, who called himself God's vicegerent upon earth, was not ashamed to tell Gattinara, at their first meeting," that since fortune, on which he had too much relied, "had brought him to this pass, he would not think of any resistance, "but was content to place his own person, his cardinals, and his state, in the Emperor's hands," and with tears to beg for the commissioner's friendly mediation with the captains of the army.

The abject bearing of Clement towards the Imperial commissioner is scarcely explicable except on the supposition either that he had himself violated the conditions of the eight-months' truce, and was therefore precluded from using the language of injured innocence, or that he desired to keep secret his hopes of relief by the army of the League. These secret hopes, if indeed it had been possible to conceal them from the knowledge of Gattinara, he was at last obliged to confess. The terms of the surrender of the castle had been virtually agreed upon the day before Urbino reached Isola and the banners of Rangone appeared on Montemario. The commissioner urged the completion of the transaction, saying that the Imperial troops would wait no longer. Unable to invent further pretexts for protracting the negotiations, Clement then owned that he had advices that the Confederates were at hand, and asked for six days' respite, promising if not relieved within that time to complete the capitulation. Gattinara somewhat contemptuously replied that the Imperial army being always victorious had no fear of the relief being effected; and he warned the Pontiff that its leaders might take such an answer for a rupture of the parley, and immediately storm the castle. Clement and his Cardinals "greatly "bewildered sat gazing on each other," and asked for a quarter of an hour for consultation. A wrangle ensued between the French faction, who were for waiting at all hazards for succour, and those in whom fear of the German and the Spaniard was stronger than faith in the power and goodwill of Urbino. But the demand for six days being persisted in, Gattinara carried that answer back to Orange and his captains. The trembling churchmen had the satisfaction of discerning that the threatened assault was a mere flourish of the civilian mediator. Orange indeed ordered the digging of a new trench across the approaches to the castle, to render evasion or succour impossible. But even for this purpose it was found not very easy to muster a sufficient number of the soldiers, demoralised by licence and plunder, nor was it effected until it had been ascertained that Urbino's army was close to the city.'

The capitulation finally took place on the 6th of June.

The chief conditions imposed on the Pope were the payment of 300,000 crowns, of which one-third was to be paid within six and onesixth within twenty days, hostages being given for the rest; the surrender to the Emperor, for a time, of St. Angelo, Civita Castellana, Civita Vecchia, and Ostia, and the cession, in perpetuity, of Parma and VOL. CXXXII. NO. CCLXIX.

G

Piacenza; and full pardon to the Colonnas, with restoration of their estates and dignities. On the fulfilment of these terms, Clement and his Cardinals were to be allowed to retire to Naples; but until then they were to remain prisoners at St. Angelo.

Whatever were the real feelings of Charles V. on hearing that his army had sacked Rome and held the Pope to ransom, he affected to receive the intelligence with grief and horror. He stopped the rejoicings which were taking place on occasion of the birth of his firstborn, he went with all his court into mourning; by his order prayers arose at the altars, and processions thronged the aisles of the great Spanish churches, in hope of obtaining from heaven for the Pope that deliverance which Charles himself could at any moment have given him by a stroke of his pen. To the princes, his allies, he wrote disclaiming all knowledge of the intentions of Bourbon, and disowning and condemning the acts of his troops, adding, in the letter to the King of England, that "albeit he supposed the thing to have happened unto "the Pope by the just judgment of God, he would so use the matter "that this same calamity should be the beginning and occasion of the "health of the Commonwealth.'

The Spaniards having taken possession of the Castle of St. Angelo, the person of the Pope became the charge of Don Fernando de Alarcon, as the Spanish officer of highest rank, a veteran who had been distinguished by his valour and conduct in the wars of the past century, when the Moors were driven from Granada and the French from Naples, and who, in the recent campaign, had had the custody of Francis I. In the fortress in which, in an evil hour, Clement VII. had sought what he believed to be temporary shelter, he had to suffer an imprisonment of seven months, enduring always the pains of degradation, uncertainty, and fear, and sometimes unexpected hardship and peril. The fine imposed upon him was, on one pretext or another, raised from 300,000 to 400,000 crowns. Church-plate was melted, and red hats and other dignities were sold, but the proceeds fell short of the required sum. Difficulties presented themselves in the fulfilment of other stipulations of the treaty. Ostia was held by Andrea Doria, then in the service of Francis I., and Civita Castellana was in the hands of the League, and neither would acknowledge the capitulation. Famine prevailed at Rome, and asses' flesh was served at the Pontifical table. After the famine came a pestilence, which raged in the castle with effect so deadly that Alarcon removed the Pope for some weeks to the Belvedere of the Vatican.

'The humiliation of Clement VII. was so complete that the animosity of even his hostile Cardinals began to soften to pity. Their hatred of the Pope yielded to their fears for the Papacy. The keeper of the keys of heaven and hell locked up in his own house and screaming from the windows for help which never came, was a spectacle which it was their interest to remove from the gaze of the wondering world. Cardinal Colonna, chief of the Spanish party, lately the Pope's arch-enemy and the hereditary friend of Alarcon, thought to turn that friendship to the advantage of the captive. If the veteran would aid or wink at the Pope's escape, the Cardinal was authorised to promise him