and in this perhaps he was right.  He was indefatigable in the discharge of business, and if it were possible that half a world could be administered as if it were the private property of an individual, the task would have been perhaps as well accomplished by Charles as by any man.  He had not the absurdity of supposing it possible for him to attend to the details of every individual affair in every one of his realms; and he therefore intrusted the stewardship of all specialities to his various ministers and agents.  It was his business to know men and to deal with affairs on a large scale, and in this he certainly was superior to his successor.  His correspondence was mainly in the hands of Granvelle the elder, who analyzed letters received, and frequently wrote all but the signatures of the answers.  The same minister usually possessed the imperial ear, and farmed it out for his own benefit.  In all this there was of course room for vast deception, but the Emperor was quite aware of what was going on, and took a philosophic view of the matter as an inevitable part of his system.  Granvelle grew enormously rich under his eye by trading on the imperial favor and sparing his majesty much trouble.  Charles saw it all, ridiculed his peculations, but called him his “bed of down.”  His knowledge of human nature was however derived from a contemplation mainly of its weaknesses, and was therefore one-sided.  He was often deceived, and made many a fatal blunder, shrewd politician though he was.  He involved himself often in enterprises which could not be honorable or profitable, and which inflicted damage on his greatest interests.  He often offended men who might have been useful friends, and converted allies into enemies.  “His Majesty,” said a keen observer who knew him well, “has not in his career shown the prudence which was necessary to him.  He has often offended those whose love he might have conciliated, converted friends into enemies, and let those perish who were his most faithful partisans.”  Thus it must be acknowledged that even his boasted knowledge of human nature and his power of dealing with men was rather superficial and empirical than the real gift of genius.

His personal habits during the greater part of his life were those of an indefatigable soldier.  He could remain in the saddle day and night, and endure every hardship but hunger.  He was addicted to vulgar and miscellaneous incontinence.  He was an enormous eater.  He breakfasted at five, on a fowl seethed in milk and dressed with sugar and spices.  After this he went to sleep again.  He dined at twelve, partaking always of twenty dishes.  He supped twice; at first, soon after vespers, and the second time at midnight or one o’clock, which meal was, perhaps, the most solid of the four.  After meat he ate a great quantity of pastry and sweetmeats, and he irrigated every repast by vast draughts of beer and wine.  His stomach, originally a wonderful one, succumbed after forty years of such