Engraved by W. Holl.
CHARLES V.
From the Original by Holbein in the Private
Collection of the King of the French.
Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
London. Published by Charles Knight, Ludgate Street.
CHARLES V.
Charles V. was born at Ghent, February 24, 1500. His parents were the Archduke Philip, son of the Emperor Maximilian, and Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabella of Castile. To those united kingdoms Charles succeeded on the death of his grandfather Ferdinand, in 1516. The early part of his reign was stormy: a Flemish regency and Flemish ministers became hateful to the Spaniards: and their discontent broke out into civil war. The Castilian rebels assumed the name of The Holy League, and seemed animated by a spirit not unlike that of the English Commons under the Stuarts. Spain was harassed by these internal contests until 1522, when they were calmed by the presence of Charles, whose prudence, and we may hope his humanity, put an end to the rebellion. He made some examples; but soon held his hand, with the declaration, that “too much blood had been spilt.” An amnesty was more effectual than severities, and the royal authority was strengthened, as it will seldom fail to be, by clemency. Some of his courtiers informed him of the place where one of the ringleaders was concealed. His answer is worthy of everlasting remembrance,—“You ought to warn him that I am here, rather than acquaint me where he is.”
Spain, the Two Sicilies, the Low Countries, and Franche Comté, belonged to Charles V. by inheritance; and by his grandfather Maximilian’s intervention, he was elected King of the Romans: nor had he to wait long before that prince’s death, in 1519, cleared his path to the empire. But Francis I. of France was also a candidate for the imperial crown, with the advantage of being six years senior to Charles, and of having already given proof of military talent. The Germans, however, were jealous of their liberties; and not unreasonably dreading the power of each competitor, rejected both. Their choice fell on Frederic, Elector of Saxony, surnamed the Wise, celebrated as the protector of Luther; but that prince declined the splendid boon, and recommended Charles, on the plea that a powerful emperor was required to stop the rapid progress of the Turkish arms. It was, however, surmised, that two thousand marks of gold, judiciously distributed by the Spanish ambassador, had some little influence in fixing the votes. On his election, Charles was required to sign a capitulation for the maintenance of the liberties and rights of the Germanic body, with a proviso against converting the empire into an heir-loom in his family. From the time of Otho IV. it had been customary for new emperors to send an embassy to Rome, giving notice of their election, and promising obedience to the papal court; but Charles V. thought this more honoured in the breach than the observance; nor have the pretensions of the Holy See been since strong enough to recover that long established claim. So true it is, that practices resting on no better foundation than absurd or pernicious precedents, require only a successful example of resistance, to ensure their abolition.
The political jealousy, embittered by personal emulation, which existed between the Emperor and the King of France, broke out into war in 1521. France, Navarre, and the Low Countries, were at times the seat of the long contest which ensued; but chiefly Italy. The duchy of Milan had been conquered by Francis in 1515. It was again wrested from the French by the Emperor in 1522. In 1523, a strong confederacy was formed against France, by the Pope, the Emperor, the King of England, the Archduke Ferdinand, to whom his brother Charles had ceded the German dominions of the House of Austria; the states of Milan, Venice, and Genoa; all united against a single power. And in addition, the celebrated Constable of Bourbon became a traitor to France, to gratify his revenge; brought his brilliant military talents to the Emperor’s service; and was invested with the command of the Imperial troops in Italy. To this formidable enemy Francis opposed his weak and presumptuous favourite, the Admiral Bonnivet, who was driven out of Italy in 1524, the year in which the gallant Bayard lost his life, in striving to redeem his commander’s errors.
The confidence of Francis seemed to increase with his dangers, and his faults with his confidence. He again entered the Milanese, in 1525, and retook the capital. But Bonnivet was his only counsellor; and, under such guidance, the siege of Pavia was prosecuted with inconceivable rashness, and the battle of Pavia fought without a chance of gaining it. Francis was taken prisoner, and wrote thus to his mother, the Duchess of Angoulême;—“Everything is lost, except our honour.” This Spartan spirit has been much admired; but whether justly, may be a question. From a Bayard, nothing could have been better: but the honour of a king is not confined to fighting a battle; and this specimen, like the conduct of Francis in general, proves him to have been the mirror of knighthood, rather than of royalty.
Charles, notwithstanding his victory at Pavia, did not invade France, but, as the price of freedom, he prescribed the harshest conditions to the captive king. At first they were rejected; but haughty spirit and conscience were at length both reconciled to the casuistry, that the fulfilment of forced promises may be eluded. Francis therefore consented to the treaty of Madrid, made in 1526, by which it was stipulated that he should give up his claims in Italy and the Low Countries; surrender the duchy of Burgundy to Spain; and return into captivity, if these conditions were not fulfilled in six weeks. When once at large, instead of executing the treaty, he formed a league with the Pope, the King of England, and the Venetians, to maintain the liberty of Italy. The Pope absolved him from his oaths, and he refused to return into Spain. This deliberate infraction of an oath savoured neither of the mirror of knighthood, nor royalty. Nor did the Emperor appear to advantage in this transaction: his want of generosity was conspicuous in his extravagant demands, and his failure in the higher tone of princely feeling was not compensated to himself by the success of his politics.
In 1527, Bourbon laid siege to Rome, and was slain in the assault; but the Imperialists took and plundered the city, and are said in derision to have proclaimed Martin Luther Pope. The Emperor’s conduct on this occasion was not less farcical, than his hypocrisy was disgusting. On receiving news of the captivity of the head of the church, instead of setting him at liberty, he commanded processions for his deliverance, and ultimately exacted from him a heavy ransom. Meanwhile the treaty of Madrid was not fulfilled; and this was the cause of another war between Spain, and France supported by England. The passions of the rival monarchs were now much excited, and challenges and the lie were exchanged between them. No duel was fought, nor probably intended; but the notoriety of the challenge went far to establish a false point of punctilio, we will not call it honour, among gentlemen, and single combats became more frequent than in the ages of barbarism.