In 1516 Ferdinand I., King of Spain, died, leaving his enormous possessions to his grandson, Charles, a youth not yet twenty.  The mother of this boy was Joanna, the insane daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, who was married to the son and heir of Maxmilian I., Emperor of Germany.

The young Charles, by the death of his father, had already inherited the Netherlands and Flanders; to which by the death of his maternal grandfather there was now added Spain, the kingdom of Naples, Mexico, and Peru.  A heavy enough burden, one would think, for young shoulders.  But it was to become still heavier.  In 1519 his other grandfather, Maximilian I., died, leaving the throne of the empire vacant.

This office by ancient custom, established by Charlemagne, was elective, and theoretically was open to any prince in Europe.  But with the seven princes known as electors, with whom rested choice of the successor, hereditary claim had great weight.  Europe saw with dismay the imminent creation of an empire greater than that of Charlemagne—­an empire which would cover a large part of the map of Europe and of America.  For none was this so alarming as for France, which would in fact be enveloped upon almost every side by this giant among the nations.  A French king would indeed have been dull and spiritless not to realize the magnitude of the danger, and Francis was neither.  There was only a youth of nineteen standing between him and the greatest dignity in Europe.  It was not alone an opportunity to save France from this overshadowing power, but to reunite the crowns of France and the empire as originally designed by Charlemagne.  No role could have better pleased Francis I. He announced himself a claimant for the vacant throne (under the clause opening it to European princes), claiming that his ownership of the adjacent territory of Northern Italy made him the natural successor to the imperial throne.

Then another ambitious young king appeared as another rival claimant, Henry VIII. of England, with his astute Minister Woolsey to fight the diplomatic battles for his master.  It was a brilliant game, played by great players for a great stake:  Francis lavishly bribing and dazzling by theatrical displays of splendor; Henry arrogant, ostentatious, vain, and Charles silent, inscrutable, cold-blooded, and false, whispering to Woolsey that he might make him pope at the next election.  From that moment the powerful influence of the Cardinal was used for this sedate youth, this wise youth, who saw that the fitting place for him (Woolsey) was the chair of St. Peter!

The diplomacy of the boy of nineteen won the prize.  The electors gave the crown to Charles V. Leo X. died soon after.  Woolsey waited in hourly expectation of the summons to Rome.  But it never came!

Then Francis resolved to win by force what he had lost by diplomacy.  Charles succeeded in winning the pope to his side of the contest with the purpose of driving the French out of Italy.  The attempt quickly ended in the defeat of the French, and for Francis capture, and a year’s imprisonment in Madrid; his release only obtained by abandoning all claims upon Italy; and in 1547 the showy and ineffectual reign of Francis I. was terminated by his death, which occurred almost immediately after that of Henry VIII. in England.