arles was soldier, first and always;
Philip was a man for the cabinet, having neither inclination nor
ability for generalship. To lead an army was Charles's pride and
delight--things Philip could not and would not attempt. Charles was
for the open air, sky, continent; Philip was for the cloister, and
spent his life immured as if he had been a monk. In Charles was
bravado, impudence, intolerable egotism, atrocious lack of honor, but
there was a dash about him as about Marshal Ney or Prince Joachin
Murat; Philip was stolid, vindictive, incapable of enthusiasm or
friendship. Charles ruled Spain as a principality; Philip held the
world as a principality of Spain. As has been indicated, Charles was
Spanish in relationship and not in disposition; Philip was Spaniard to
the exclusion of all else. Charles, if he was anything, was brilliant;
Philip was as lacking in color as a bank of winter clouds, no more
conceiving brilliancy than he conceived of greatness of soul or manly
honor.

In Spanish character were chivalrous qualities, mixed with ferocity and
pitiless cruelty. Pizarro and Cortes were attractive; we like to look
at them a second time. Much we condemn, but much we admire. Their
sagacity, their prowess, their heroic spirit, take us captive despite
their baser qualities. In them was duplicity, revenge, bigotry,
heathenish cruelty; but these were not all the qualities the inventory
discovered. In Philip, however, were all the Spanish villainies
without the Spanish virtues. He is blessed with scarcely a redeeming
quality. His excellencies were a stolid inability to believe himself
defeated, which, had it been joined to patriotism and intelligent
action, had risen to the heroic; he was loyal to his convictions; and
he was painstakingly laborious, and worked in his cabinet like a paid
clerk. In truth, his disposition for and ability to work are among the
most marked instances in history. Not Julius Caesar himself worked
with more unflagging industry. But Philip had no illuminated moments.
His toil was blind, like a mole's progress. He read and annotated all
state dispatches; wrote many long epistles with his own hand, eschewing
secretarial aid. He had a mind capacious for minutiae; was colossally
egotistical; was as little cast down by defeat as elevated by triumph,
which is in itself a quality of heroic mold, but viewed narrowly turns
out to be imperturbable phlegmaticism and self-assurance, which simply