XII. 1558. try, he was attached to it with such extreme predilection, B O O K that he never felt himself at ease in any other part of his dominions. But as he could not quit the Low-Countries, either with decency or safety, and venture on a voyage to Spain during the continuance of war, the prospect of a pacification, which would put it in his power to execute his favourite scheme, was highly acceptable. Henry was no less desirous of being delivered from the burden and occupations of war, that he might have leisure to turn all his attention, and bend the whole force of his government, towards suppressing the opinions of the Reformers, which were spreading with such rapidity in Paris, and other great towns of France, that they began to grow formidable to the established church. the court it. BESIDES these public and avowed considerations arising An infrom the state of the two hostile kingdoms, or from the trigue in wishes of their respective monarchs, there was a secret in- of France trigue carried on in the court of France, which contributed facilitates as much as either of the other, to hasten and to facilitate the negociation of a peace. The Constable Montmorency, during his captivity, beheld the rapid success and growing favour of the Duke of Guise with the envy natural to a rival. Every advantage gained by the Princes of Lorrain he considered as a fresh wound to his own reputation, and he knew with what malevolent address it would be improved to diminish his credit with the King, and to augment that of the Duke of Guise. These arts, he was afraid, might, by degrees, work on the easy and ductile mind of Henry, so as to efface all remains of his ancient affection towards himself. But he could not discover any remedy for this, unless he were allowed to return home, that he might try whether by his presence he could defeat the artifices of his enemies, and revive those warm and tender sentiments which had long attached Henry to him, with a confidence so entire, as resembled rather the cordiality of private friendship, than the cold and selfish connexion between a monarch and one of his courtiers. While Montmorency was forming schemes and wishes for his return to France with much anxiety of mind, but with little hope of success, an unexpected incident pre XII. 1558. BOOK pared the way for it. The Cardinal of Lorrain, who had shared with his brother in the King's favour, and participated of the power which that conferred, did not bear prosperity with the same discretion as the Duke of Guise. Intoxicated with their good fortune, he forgot how much they had been indebted for their present elevation to their connexions with the Dutchess of Valentinois, and vainly ascribed all to the extraordinary merit of their family. This led him not only to neglect his benefactress, but to thwart her schemes, and to talk with a sarcastic liberty of her character and person. That singular woman, who, if we may believe contemporary writers, retained the beauty and charms of youth at the age of threescore, and on whom it is certain that Henry still doated with all the fondness of love, felt this injury with sensibility, and set herself with eagerness to inflict the vengeance which it merited. As there was no method of supplanting the Princes of Lorrain so effectually as by a coalition of interests with the Constable, she proposed the marriage of her grand-daughter with one of his sons, as the bond of their future union; and Montmorency readily gave his consent to the match. Having thus cemented their alliance, the Dutchess employed all her influence with the King, in order to confirm his inclinations towards peace, and induce him to take the steps necessary for attaining it. She insinuated that any overture of that kind would come with great propriety from the Constable, and if intrusted to the conduct of his prudence, could hardly fail of success. Henry commits the nego Montmo rency. HENRY, long accustomed to commit all affairs of impor tance to the management of the Constable, and needing only ciation to this encouragement to return to his ancient habits, wrote to him immediately with his usual familiarity and affection, empowering him at the same time to take the first opportunity of sounding Philip and his ministers with regard to peace. Montmorency made his application to Philip by the most proper channel. He opened himself to the Duke of Savoy, who, notwithstanding the high command to which he had been raised, and the military glory which he had acquired in the Spanish service, was weary of remaining in exile, and languished to return into his paternal dominions. As there XII. 1558. was no prospect of his recovering possession of them by BOOK force of arms, he considered a definitive treaty of peace between France and Spain, as the only event by which he could hope to obtain restitution. Being no stranger to Philip's private wishes with regard to peace, he easily prevailed on him not only to discover a disposition on his part towards accommodation, but to permit Montmorency to return on his parole, to France, that he might confirm his own sovereign in his pacific sentiments. Henry received the Constable with the most flattering marks of regard; absence, instead of having abated or extinguished the Monarch's friendship, seemed to have given it new ardour. Montmorency, from the moment of his appearance in court, assumed, if possible, a higher place than ever in his affection, and a more perfect ascendant over his mind. The Cardinal of Lorrain and Duke of Guise prudently gave way to a tide of favour too strong for them to oppose, and confining themselves to their proper departments, permitted, without any struggle, the Constable and Dutchess of Valentinois to direct public affairs at their pleasure. They soon prevailed on the King to nominate plenipotentiaries to treat of peace. Philip did the same. The abbey of Cercamp was fixed on as the place of congress; and all military operations were immediately terminated by a suspension of arms. tune. Charles V. WHILE these preliminary steps were taking towards a trea- Death of ty which restored tranquillity to Europe, Charles V. whose ambition had so long disturbed it, ended his days in the monastery of St. Justus. When Charles entered this retreat, he formed such a plan of life for himself, as would have suited the condition of a private gentleman of a moderate forHis table was neat, but plain; his domestics few; his intercourse with them familiar; all the cumbersome and ceremonious forms of attendance on his person were entirely abolished, as destructive of that social ease and tranquillity which he courted, in order to soothe the remainder of his days. As the mildness of the climate, together with his deliverance from the burdens and cares of government, procured him, at first, a considerable remission from the acute pains with which he had been long tormented; he enjoyed, XII. 1558. BOOK perhaps, more complete satisfaction in this humble solitude, than all his grandeur had ever yielded him. The ambitious thoughts and projects which had so long engrossed and disquieted him, were quite effaced from his mind: far from taking any part in the political transactions of the Princes of Europe, he restrained his curiosity even from any inquiry concerning them; and he seemed to view the busy scene which he had abandoned with all the contempt and indifference arising from his thorough experience of its vanity, as well as from the pleasing reflection of having disentangled himself from its cares. His amusements in his retreat. OTHER amusements and other objects now occupied him. Sometimes he cultivated the plants in his garden with his own hands; sometimes he rode out to the neighbouring wood on a little horse, the only one that he kept, attended by a single servant on foot. When his infirmities confined him to his apartment, which often happened, and deprived him of these more active recreations, he either admitted a few gentlemen who resided near the monastery to visit him, and entertained them familiarly at his table; or he employed himself in studying mechanical principles, and in forming curious works of mechanism, of which he had always been remarkably fond, and to which his genius was peculiarly turned. With this view he had engaged Turriano, one of the most ingenious artists of that age, to accompany him in his retreat. He laboured together with him in framing models of the most useful machines, as well as in making experiments with regard to their respective powers, and it was not seldom that the ideas of the monarch assisted or perfected the inventions of the artist. He relieved his mind, at intervals, with slighter and more fantastic works of mechanism, in fashioning puppets, which, by the structure of internal springs, mimicked the gestures and actions of men, to the astonishment of the ignorant monks, who beholding movements which they could not comprehend, sometimes distrusted their own senses, and sometimes suspected Charles and Turriano of being in compact with invisible powers. He was particularly curious with regard to the construction of clocks and watches; and having found, after repeated trials, XII. 1558. that he could not bring any two of them to go exactly alike, B O O K he reflected, it is said, with a mixture of surprise as well as regret, on his own folly, in having bestowed so much time and labour on the more vain attempt of bringing mankind to a precise uniformity of sentiment concerning the profound and mysterious doctrines of religion. serious oc cupations. BUT in what manner soever Charles disposed of the rest His more of his time, he constantly reserved a considerable portion of it for religious exercises. He regularly attended divine service in the chapel of the monastery, every morning and evening; he took great pleasure in reading books of devotion, particularly the works of St. Augustine and St. Bernard; and conversed much with his confessor, and the prior of the monastery, on pious subjects. Thus did Charles pass the first year of his retreat, in a manner not unbecoming a man perfectly disengaged from the affairs of the present life, and standing on the confines of a future world; either in innocent amusements, which soothed his pains, and relieved a mind worn out with excessive application to business; or in devout occupations, which he deemed necessary in preparing for another state. es of his BUT about six months before his death, the gout, after a The causlonger intermission than usual, returned with a proportional death. increase of violence. His shattered constitution had not vigour enough remaining to withstand such a shock. It enfeebled his mind as much as his body, and from this period we hardly discern any traces of that sound and masculine understanding, which distinguished Charles among his contemporaries. An illiberal and timid superstition depressed his spirit. He had no relish for amusements of any kind. He endeavoured to conform, in his manner of living, to all the rigour of monastic austerity. He desired no other society than that of monks, and was almost continually employed with them in chanting the hymns of the Missal. As an expiation for his sins, he gave himself the discipline in secret with such severity, that the whip of cords which he employed as the instrument of his punishment, was found after his decease tinged with his blood. Nor was he satisfied with |