Charles had more cause for irritation in the conduct of some of those functionaries with whom he had to deal in his financial capacity. Nothing appears to have stirred his bile so much at Yuste as the proceedings of some members of the board of trade at Seville. "I have deferred sending to you," he writes to his daughter, the regent, "in order to see if, with time, my wrath would not subside. But, far from it, it increases, and will go on increasing till I learn that those who have done wrong have atoned for it. Were it not for my infirmities," he adds, "I would go to Seville myself, and find out the authors of this villany, and bring them to a summary reckoning."[320] "The emperor orders me," writes his secretary, Gaztelu, "to command that the offenders be put in irons, and in order to mortify them the more, that they be carried, in broad daylight, to Simancas, and there lodged, not in towers or chambers, but in a dungeon. Indeed, such is his indignation, and such are the _violent and bloodthirsty expressions_ he commands me to use, that you will pardon me if my language is not so temperate as it might be."[321] It had been customary for the board of trade to receive the gold imported from the Indies, whether on public or private account, and hold it for the use of the government, paying to the merchants interested an equivalent in government bonds. The merchants, naturally enough, not relishing this kind of security so well as the gold, by a collusion with some of the members of the board of trade, had been secretly allowed to remove their own property. In this way the government was defrauded--as the emperor regarded it--of a large sum on which it had calculated. This, it would seem, was the offence which had roused the royal indignation to such a pitch. Charles's phlegmatic temperament had ever been liable to be ruffled by these sudden gusts of passion; and his conventual life does not seem to have had any very sedative influence on him in this particular.
For the first ten months after his arrival at Yuste, the emperor's health, under the influence of a temperate climate, the quiet of monastic life, and more than all, probably, his exemption from the cares of state, had generally improved.[322] His attacks of gout had been less frequent and less severe than before. But in the spring of 1558, the old malady returned with renewed violence. "I was not in a condition," he writes to Philip, "to listen to a single sermon during Lent."[323] For months he was scarcely able to write a line with his own hand. His spirits felt the pressure of bodily suffering, and were still further depressed by the death of his sister Eleanor, the queen-dowager of France and Portugal, which took place in February, 1558.