I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and

“I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to my horse.”
Thus spoke Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire and King of Spain, a ruler whose dominion stretched across continents and seas — from the silvered peaks of the Andes to the cathedrals of Europe. His words, though touched with humor, carry a depth that transcends jest. In them breathes the understanding of a man who governed nations divided by tongues, and yet perceived that language is not merely sound or symbol — it is the mirror of the soul. Each tongue holds a spirit, a rhythm, a truth that reveals how we relate to God, to love, to power, and to the world.

In the ancient style of wisdom, let us see beyond the surface. When Charles V said he spoke Spanish to God, he honored the solemn majesty of his mother tongue — the language of kings, of prayer, of gravity. Spanish, noble and sonorous, rises like incense in a cathedral. To speak it to God was not mere pride, but reverence — for the emperor felt that the tongue of empire was also fit for eternity. To pray is to proclaim, and in Spanish he found that strength of sound that could ascend toward the divine.

To women, he spoke Italian — the language of music and tenderness, of love whispered through serenades and sighs. Italian flows like water, soft and melodic, the language of poets, painters, and lovers. In these words, Charles V revealed a truth as old as the human heart: that love demands its own speech — one that is neither command nor decree, but melody. To address the heart requires a gentler tongue, for affection thrives where power bows.

To men, he spoke French, the language of diplomacy and wit, of polished courts and gallant exchange. In the sixteenth century, French was the tongue of reason and refinement — a language of honor among equals. To speak French to men was to engage with them not as subjects but as companions, to balance intellect with courtesy, and rivalry with respect. Thus Charles, the emperor, revealed that the art of governance and brotherhood alike rests upon the grace of understanding. Power alone cannot rule — communication must dignify it.

And lastly, to his horse, he spoke German — a tongue rich in strength and earth, the voice of command and vigor. German was the language of his soldiers and his steed, the word that did not court but commanded. It was not for prayer or poetry, but for action — direct, deep, and unyielding. To speak German to his horse was to speak in the language of movement, of war, of power translated into motion. In this, the emperor’s jest reveals an eternal truth: that every form of life understands a language proper to its purpose, and wisdom lies in knowing which to use when.

Yet behind this royal wit stands a reflection on the nature of human understanding itself. For each of us, like Charles, must learn to speak differently to the world — to lift our voice in reverence when we face the divine, to soften it when we love, to temper it with reason among peers, and to strengthen it when facing the labors of life. Wisdom, therefore, is not in the mastery of one tongue, but in the mastery of the heart that knows how to speak rightly in all things.

Consider also how the Emperor’s words echo through history. Though he wielded power unmatched, Charles V spent his final years not in conquest but in silence, retiring to a monastery in Spain. There, the many languages of empire fell quiet, and he learned the final tongue of the soul — the stillness through which one speaks to God without words. His life reminds us that language is not only for others; it is also the bridge between man and the divine within.

The lesson, then, is this: learn not only the speech of tongues but the speech of hearts. Know when to command, and when to console; when to reason, and when to revere. For words are not merely sounds — they are powers that build and bind. To speak rightly is to live wisely. So let every soul seek fluency not in many languages alone, but in the higher art of expression — to speak to God with truth, to others with love, and to life itself with courage. In such harmony lies the music of understanding, and in that music, the soul finds peace.