The battle of Saint Quentin, the narrative of which belongs to our subject, and will soon occupy our attention, at last decided the Italian operations.  Egmont’s brilliant triumph in Picardy rendered a victory in Italy superfluous, and placed in Alva’s hand the power of commanding the issue of his own campaign.  The Duke of Guise was recalled to defend the French frontier, which the bravery of the Flemish hero had imperilled, and the Pope was left to make the best peace which he could.  All was now prosperous and smiling, and the campaign closed with a highly original and entertaining exhibition.  The pontiff’s puerile ambition, sustained by the intrigues of his nephew, had involved the French monarch in a war which was contrary to his interests and inclination.  Paul now found his ally too sorely beset to afford him that protection upon which he had relied, when he commenced, in his dotage, his career as a warrior.  He was, therefore, only desirous of deserting his friend, and of relieving himself from his uncomfortable predicament, by making a treaty with his catholic majesty upon the best terms which he could obtain.  The King of France, who had gone to war only for the sake of his holiness, was to be left to fight his own battles, while the Pope was to make his peace with all the world.  The result was a desirable one for Philip.  Alva was accordingly instructed to afford the holy father a decorous and appropriate opportunity for carrying out his wishes.  The victorious general was apprized that his master desired no fruit from his commanding attitude in Italy and the victory of Saint Quentin, save a full pardon from the Pope for maintaining even a defensive war against him.  An amicable siege of Rome was accordingly commenced, in the course of which an assault or “camiciata” on the holy city, was arranged for the night of the 26th August, 1557.  The pontiff agreed to be taken by surprise—­while Alva, through what was to appear only a superabundance of his habitual discretion, was to draw off his troops at the very moment when the victorious assault was to be made.  The imminent danger to the holy city and to his own sacred person thus furnishing the pontiff with an excuse for abandoning his own cause, as well as that of his ally the Duke of Alva was allowed, in the name of his master and himself; to make submission to the Church and his peace with Rome.  The Spanish general, with secret indignation and disgust, was compelled to humor the vanity of a peevish but imperious old man.  Negotiations were commenced, and so skilfully had the Duke played his game during the spring and summer, that when he was admitted to kiss the Pope’s toe, he was able to bring a hundred Italian towns in his hand, as a peace-offering to his holiness.  These he now restored, with apparent humility and inward curses, upon the condition that the fortifications should be razed, and the French alliance absolutely renounced.  Thus did the fanaticism of Philip reverse the relative position of himself and his antagonist.  Thus was the vanquished pontiff allowed almost to dictate terms to the victorious general.  The king who could thus humble himself to a dotard, while he made himself the scourge of his subjects, deserved that the bull of excommunication which had been prepared should have been fulminated.  He, at least, was capable of feeling the scathing effects of such anathemas.