The emperor was reduced to
the terrible humiliation of saving himself from capture only by flight.
The emperor could hardly credit his senses when told that his conquering
foes were within two days' march of Innspruck, and that a squadron of
horse might at any hour appear and cut off his retreat. It was in the
night when these appalling tidings were brought to him. The tortures of
the gout would not allow him to mount on horseback, neither could he
bear the jolting in a carriage over the rough roads. It was a dark and
stormy night, the 20th of May, 1552. The rain fell in torrents, and the
wind howled through the fir-trees and around the crags of the Alps. Some
attendants wrapped the monarch in blankets, took him out into the
court-yard of the palace, and placed him in a litter. Attendants led the
way with lanterns, and thus, through the inundated and storm-swept
defiles of the mountains, they fled with their helpless sovereign
through the long hours of the tempestuous night, not daring to stop one
moment lest they should hear behind them the clatter of the iron hoofs
of their pursuers. What a change for one short month to produce! What a
comment upon earthly grandeur! It is well for man in the hour of most
exultant prosperity to be humble.
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