he homage of the representatives assembled, as
successor to the crown of Aragon.

The war with France, which, after a temporary suspension, had broken out
with greater violence than ever, did not permit the emperor long to
protract his stay in the Peninsula. Indeed, it seemed to his Spanish
subjects that he rarely visited them, except when his exchequer required
to be replenished for carrying on his restless enterprises, and that he
stayed no longer than was necessary to effect this object. On leaving
the country, he intrusted the regency to Philip, under the general
direction of a council consisting of the duke of Alva, Cardinal Tavera,
and the Commendador Cobos. Some time after this, while still lingering
in Catalonia, previous to his embarkation, Charles addressed a letter to
his son, advising him as to his political course, and freely criticising
the characters of the great lords associated with him in the government.
The letter, which is altogether a remarkable document, contains, also,
some wholesome admonitions on Philip's private conduct. "The duke of
Alva," the emperor emphatically wrote, "is the ablest statesman and the
best soldier I have in my dominions. Consult him, above all, in military
affairs; but do not depend upon him entirely in these or in any other
matters. Depend on no one but yourself. The grandees will be too happy
to secure your favor, and through you to govern the land. But, if you
are thus governed, it will be your ruin. The mere suspicion of it will
do you infinite prejudice. Make use of all; but lean exclusively on
none. In your perplexities, ever trust in your Maker. Have no care but
for him." The emperor then passes some strictures on the Commendador
Cobos, as too much inclined to pleasure, at the same time admonishing
Philip of the consequences of a libertine career, fatal alike, he tells
him, to both soul and body. There seems to have been some ground for
this admonition, as the young prince had shown a disposition to
gallantry, which did not desert him in later life. "Yet, on the whole,"
says the monarch, "I will admit I have much reason to be satisfied with
your behavior. But I would have you perfect; and, to speak frankly,
whatever other persons may tell you, you have some things to mend yet.
Your confessor," he continues, "is now your old preceptor, the bishop
of Carthagena,"--to which see the worthy professor had been recently
raised. "He is a good man, as all the world knows; but I