Paul did of his.
Colonna, who had done the cause such good service, was not even
reinstated in the possessions of which the pope had deprived him. But a
secret article provided that his claims should be determined hereafter
by the joint arbitration of the pontiff and the king of Spain.[178]

The treaty was, in truth, one which, as Alva bitterly remarked, "seemed
to have been dictated by the vanquished rather than by the victor." It
came hard to the duke to execute it, especially the clause relating to
himself. "Were I the king," said he haughtily, "his holiness should send
one of his nephews to Brussels, to sue for my pardon, instead of my
general's suing for his."[179] But Alva had no power to consult his own
will in the matter. The orders from Philip were peremptory, to come to
some terms, if possible, with the pope. Philip had long since made up
his own mind, that neither profit nor honor was to be derived from a war
with the Church,--a war not only repugnant to his own feelings, but
which placed him in a false position, and one most prejudicial to his
political interests.

The news of peace filled the Romans with a joy great in proportion to
their former consternation. Nor was this joy much diminished by a
calamity which at any other time would have thrown the city into
mourning. The Tiber, swollen by the autumnal rains, rose above its
banks, sweeping away houses and trees in its fury, drowning men and
cattle, and breaking down a large piece of the wall that surrounded the
city. It was well that this accident had not occurred a few days
earlier, when the enemy was at the gates.[180]

On the twenty-seventh of September, 1557, the duke of Alva made his
public entrance into Rome. He was escorted by the papal guard, dressed
in its gay uniform. It was joined by the other troops in the city, who,
on this holiday service, did as well as better soldiers. On entering the
gates, the concourse was swelled by thousands of citizens, who made the
air ring with their acclamations, as they saluted the Spanish general
with the titles of Defender and Liberator of the capital. The epithets
might be thought an indifferent compliment to their own government. In
this state the procession moved along, like the triumph of a conqueror
returned from his victorious campaigns to receive the wreath of laurel
in the capitol.

On reaching the Vatican, the Spanish commander fell on his knees before
the pope, and asked his pardon for the offenc