f Charles V, William the Silent was reared, being sent
hither of his father, at Charles's request, to be brought up in the
emperor's household as a prospective public servant, and was dear to
the monarch, so far as any one could be dear to him; and the emperor,
at his abdication, leaned on Orange, then a youth of but twenty-one.
To what an extent he comprehended so humane a sentiment, Charles had
been tender with the Netherlands because of his life-long relation to
its people. He looked a Netherlander rather than a Spaniard, and felt
one, so that, so far as he showed favors, he showed them to this
opulent people. Charles, with his many faults, had yet a rude
geniality, which softened or seemed to soften his asperity toward those
about him.

In Philip, his son, was not even this slight redemptive quality. On
October 25, 1555, at the age of fifty-five, worn out prematurely with
lecherousness, gormandizing, lust of power, and recent defeats, Charles
V abdicated in favor of his son, Philip. As they two stand on the dais
at this solemn ceremony, it were well to take a close look at father
and son. They are contrasts, as pronounced as valley and mountain, and
yet possess characteristics of evil in common. Charles was knit
together like an athlete, his shoulders were broad and his chest deep;
his face was ugly to the measure of hideousness; his lower jaw
protruded so as to make it impossible for his teeth to meet, and his
speech was for that reason barely intelligible. A voracious eater, an
incessant talker, adventurous, a born soldier, fond of tournament,
spectacular in war and peace and abdication, now crippled in hands and
legs, he stands, a picture of decrepitude, ready to give away a crown
he can no longer wear. Philip, the son, is thin and fragile to look
upon, diminutive in stature; in face, resembling his father in "heavy,
hanging lip, vast mouth, and monstrously protruding lower jaw. His
complexion was fair, his hair light and thin, his beard yellow, short,
and pointed. He had the aspect of a Fleming, but the loftiness of a
Spaniard. His demeanor in public was silent, almost sepulchral. He
looked habitually on the ground when he conversed, was chary of speech,
embarrassed, and even suffering in manner." Such is the new king as we
see him; and Motley has put our observations into words for us. But if
in looks there were manifest resemblances and extreme divergencies, in
character they were wide apart. Ch