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The bitterness of the Prince's jealousy against Alva was raised to the highest pitch on the appointment of that nobleman to the government of the Netherlands. Carlos had looked up to that portion of the Spanish empire as the fittest stage for his first appearance in public life. He hoped that the precedent which had been made in his father, under whose care those countries were placed during the latter part of the life of Charles V., would be followed in his own behalf. Nothing, however, was more discordant with Philip's jealous and suspicious character than these views of his son. The Netherlands had broken into open rebellion against his authority, and he was anxious to send thither a man who, with the most inflexible character, should unite the most blind and implicit obedience to his will and authority. A restless and ambitious youth, but one step removed from the throne, was a very improper instrument of the punishment which Philip had determined to inflict on the revolted Flemings. The military talents, the severity of temper, and loyal attachment of Alva to his sovereign- - some authors add the recommendation of lva, Prince of Evoli, who wished to have the Duke removed to a distance-determined Philip to put him at the head of the army which was to be employed in the subjugation of Flanders. The new viceroy came to take leave of the Prince the day before he was to set off for his government. At the sight of a hated and successful rival, the ungovernable violence of Carlos broke out into the bitterest language, till raised, probably by the haughty and disdainful manner of the Duke, into a fit of rage, the Prince seized him by the middle, and would have thrown him out of the window into the ditch of the palace, but for the interference of some courtiers who came to Alva's assistance.
Carlos was not only disappointed of the objects of his ambition through the influence, as he imagined, of his father's favourites, but often found them meddling with his little plans of domestic amusement. An instance of this kind is mentioned by Cabrera.
Cisneros, an actor of celebrity, enjoyed the favour of the Prince, who, wishing to have a play performed privately in his apartments, ordered the comedian to get it up for a certain day. The King being, as usual, informed of his son's intentions, wished to defeat them by the same dark and crooked policy which he employed in the most important business of state. Philip's prime minister, Cardinal Espinosa, was directed to banish Cisneros out of the court before the day on which he was to play at the palace. Carlos, who seems to have constantly attributed his father's acts to those who were nothing but his blind instruments, fixed all his resentment on the Cardinal. Fortunately for that prelate his profession secured him, in a case of this kind, a mixed feeling of regard for his office and contempt of his person, on the part of every high-minded Spaniard. The Prince took an early opportunity of finding Espinosa alone; when, seizing him by the collar of his robe, “ You scurvy parson,” said he, “how dare you insult me by preventing Cisneros from obeying my orders? By my father's life, I will kill you!" The terrified churchman, falling upon his knees, implored the Prince's forgiveness ; who having no intention of executing the threat, allowed him to retire unhurt.
“ Curilla, vos os atreveis a mi, no dexando venir a servirme Cisneros! Por vida de mi padre que os tengo de matar.-Cabrera, ib.
The system pursued by Philip towards his son, and its effects on the temper of that young Prince, are remarkably illustrated by the comparison of a passage in De Thou's history with another in Cabrera. The latter mentions, that Carlos, being once dissatisfied with his shoemaker for having made him a pair of boots tighter than was then the fashion in Spain, ordered the cook to mince and dress them, and forced the unfortunate tradesman to eat the dish. De Thou, who had the account of Carlos's imprisonment, and the circumstances which led to his mysterious death, from the mouth of De Foin, the architect employed at that time by the King of Spain in building the Escurial, tells us that the young Prince was in the habit of carrying two small pistols concealed in the large boots which were then worn by the Spaniards. Philip, he says, was informed of the fact through Foin himself, who, as it may be inferred from the narrative of the French historian, had orders to employ his mechanical skill in the gratification of this and similar whims of the royal youth, in order to acquaint the King with every thing that could give him a clue to his son's views and designs. The passage is the more curious as the punishment inflicted on the shoemaker is passed unnoticed by De Thou.t
(To be concluded in our next.)
+ NE et scloppetulos binos, summa arte fabricatos, caligis, quæ amplissimæ de more gentis in usu sunt, eum gestare solitum resciverat (rex) ex Ludovico Foxio, Parisiensi.-Thuanus, lib. xliii. c. viii.
THE SILENT RIVER :
A DRAMATIC SKETCH.
Luke (the natural and deserted son of Lord RAYLAND) having been reduced to
the low occupation of a fisherman for the support of his wife, and failing in this
And sluggish river, which divides its banks
E'en thou, dear Luke,
Of water vermin in the oozing slime.
These muddy vapours for our daily morsel
when he to whom thou'st rush'd for comfort
And present famine!
Why recall such times?
Would change thy love, we still might live in want.
I've watch'd thee in thy sleep, when thy white temples
O, say not-say not so!
Lost half its fury.
It will rage no more.
At such dire seasons.
I have promised thee,
Come, thou art sad.-Look, how the first faint ray
When swallows came down the green;
And home he hath never been.”
Beneath the old willow tree.”
Shall my false love find me.”
I almost ran upon
Your words have made it look! I could stay now
Luke. 'Tis a hard name which thou hast learn'd,
For they lack'd courage so to end their griefs.
Excuse what inwardly thou’rt shuddering at.
What, Luke! dear Luke!
And thought not of thy present grief.
And shed no tear o'er him who loved thee so.
Thou reveller in woes impossible!
I'll not answer thee;
pay Heaven's bounty with such fearful fancies. Luke (after a pause.) Well, then, suppose me laid beside old Adam,
With decent holiness: what wouldst thou do
To live, my helpless Mary?
Oh, I never
From which I bore thee. Tell thy angry friends