Such considerations clouded the mind of Henry at the close
of his glorious career.  What had it not cost him to reduce to order
the troubled chaos into which France had been plunged
by the tumult of civil war, fomented and supported by this very Austria!
Every great mind labours for eternity; and what security had Henry
for the endurance of that prosperity which he had gained for France,
so long as Austria and Spain formed a single power, which did indeed
lie exhausted for the present, but which required only one lucky chance
to be speedily re-united, and to spring up again as formidable as ever.
If he would bequeath to his successors a firmly established throne,
and a durable prosperity to his subjects, this dangerous power
must be for ever disarmed.  This was the source of that irreconcileable enmity
which Henry had sworn to the House of Austria, a hatred unextinguishable,
ardent, and well-founded as that of Hannibal against the people of Romulus,
but ennobled by a purer origin.

The other European powers had the same inducements to action as Henry,
but all of them had not that enlightened policy, nor that disinterested
courage to act upon the impulse.  All men, without distinction,
are allured by immediate advantages; great minds alone are excited
by distant good.  So long as wisdom in its projects calculates upon wisdom,
or relies upon its own strength, it forms none but chimerical schemes,
and runs a risk of making itself the laughter of the world;
but it is certain of success, and may reckon upon aid and admiration
when it finds a place in its intellectual plans for barbarism, rapacity,
and superstition, and can render the selfish passions of mankind
the executors of its purposes.

In the first point of view, Henry's well-known project of expelling
the House of Austria from all its possessions, and dividing the spoil
among the European powers, deserves the title of a chimera,
which men have so liberally bestowed upon it; but did it merit
that appellation in the second?  It had never entered into the head
of that excellent monarch, in the choice of those who must be
the instruments of his designs, to reckon on the sufficiency of such motives
as animated himself and Sully to the enterprise.  All the states
whose co-operation was necessary, were to be persuaded to the work
by the strongest motives that can set a political power in action.
From the Protestants in Germany nothing more was required than that which,
on other grounds, had been long their object, -- their throwing off
the Austrian yoke; from the Flemings, a similar revolt from the Spaniards.
To the Pope and all the Italian republics no inducement could be more powerful
than the hope of driving the Spaniards for ever from their peninsula;
for England, nothing more desirable than a revolution which should free it
from its bitterest enemy.  By this division of the Austrian conquests,
every power gained either land or freedom, new possessions or security
for the old; and as all gained, the balance of power remained undisturbed.
France might magnanimously decline a share in the spoil,
because by the ruin of Austria it doubly profited, and was most powerful
if it did not become more powerful.  Finally, upon condition of ridding Europe
of their presence, the posterity of Hapsburg were to be allowed
the liberty of augmenting her territories in all the other known
or yet undiscovered portions of the globe.  But the dagger of Ravaillac
delivered Austria from her danger, to postpone for some centuries longer
the tranquillity of Europe.

With his view directed to this project, Henry felt the necessity of taking
a prompt and active part in the important events of the Evangelical Union,
and the disputed succession of Juliers.  His emissaries were busy
in all the courts of Germany, and the little which they published
or allowed to escape of the great political secrets of their master,
was sufficient to win over minds inflamed by so ardent a hatred to Austria,
and by so strong a desire of aggrandizement.  The prudent policy of Henry
cemented the Union still more closely, and the powerful aid
which he bound himself to furnish, raised the courage of the confederates
into the firmest confidence.  A numerous French army,
led by the king in person, was to meet the troops of the Union
on the banks of the Rhine, and to assist in effecting the conquest
of Juliers and Cleves; then, in conjunction with the Germans,
it was to march into Italy, (where Savoy, Venice, and the Pope were even now
ready with a powerful reinforcement,) and to overthrow the Spanish dominion
in that quarter.  This victorious army was then to penetrate by Lombardy
into the hereditary dominions of Hapsburg; and there, favoured by
a general insurrection of the Protestants, destroy the power of Austria
in all its German territories, in Bohemia, Hungary, and Transylvania.
The Brabanters and Hollanders, supported by French auxiliaries,
would in the meantime shake off the Spanish tyranny in the Netherlands;
and thus the mighty stream which, only a short time before,
had so fearfully overflowed its banks, threatening to overwhelm
in its troubled waters the liberties of Europe, would then roll
silent and forgotten behind the Pyrenean mountains.

At other times, the French had boasted of their rapidity of action,
but upon this occasion they were outstripped by the Germans.
An army of the confederates entered Alsace before Henry made
his appearance there, and an Austrian army, which the Bishop
of Strasburg and Passau had assembled in that quarter for an expedition
against Juliers, was dispersed.  Henry IV. had formed his plan
as a statesman and a king, but he had intrusted its execution to plunderers.
According to his design, no Roman Catholic state was to have cause to think
this preparation aimed against itself, or to make the quarrel of Austria
its own.  Religion was in nowise to be mixed up with the matter.
But how could the German princes forget their own purposes
in furthering the plans of Henry?  Actuated as they were
by the desire of aggrandizement and by religious hatred, was it to be supposed
that they would not gratify, in every passing opportunity,
their ruling passions to the utmost?  Like vultures,
they stooped upon the territories of the ecclesiastical princes,
and always chose those rich countries for their quarters, though to reach them
they must make ever so wide a detour from their direct route.
They levied contributions as in an enemy's country, seized upon the revenues,
and exacted, by violence, what they could not obtain of free-will.
Not to leave the Roman Catholics in doubt as to the true objects
of their expedition, they announced, openly and intelligibly enough,
the fate that awaited the property of the church.  So little had Henry IV.
and the German princes understood each other in their plan of operations,
so much had the excellent king been mistaken in his instruments.
It is an unfailing maxim, that, if policy enjoins an act of violence,
its execution ought never to be entrusted to the violent;
and that he only ought to be trusted with the violation of order
by whom order is held sacred.

Both the past conduct of the Union, which was condemned even by several
of the evangelical states, and the apprehension of even worse treatment,
aroused the Roman Catholics to something beyond mere inactive indignation.
As to the Emperor, his authority had sunk too low to afford them any security
against such an enemy.  It was their Union that rendered the confederates
so formidable and so insolent; and another union must now be opposed to them.

The Bishop of Wurtzburg formed the plan of the Catholic union,
which was distinguished from the evangelical by the title of the League.
The objects agreed upon were nearly the same as those which constituted
the groundwork of the Union.  Bishops formed its principal members,
and at its head was placed Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria.
As the only influential secular member of the confederacy,
he was entrusted with far more extensive powers than the Protestants
had committed to their chief.  In addition to the duke's being
the sole head of the League's military power, whereby their operations
acquired a speed and weight unattainable by the Union,
they had also the advantage that supplies flowed in much more regularly
from the rich prelates, than the latter could obtain them from
the poor evangelical states.  Without offering to the Emperor,
as the sovereign of a Roman Catholic state, any share in their confederacy,
without even communicating its existence to him as emperor,
the League arose at once formidable and threatening; with strength sufficient
to crush the Protestant Union and to maintain itself under three emperors.
It contended, indeed, for Austria, in so far as it fought against
the Protestant princes; but Austria herself had soon cause
to tremble before it.

The arms of the Union had, in the meantime, been tolerably successful
in Juliers and in Alsace; Juliers was closely blockaded,
and the whole bishopric of Strasburg was in their power.
But here their splendid achievements came to an end.  No French army
appeared upon the Rhine; for he who was to be its leader,
he who was the animating soul of the whole enterprize, Henry IV., was no more!
Their supplies were on the wane; the Estates refused to grant new subsidies;
and the confederate free cities were offended that their money
should be liberally, but their advice so sparingly called for.
Especially were they displeased at being put to expense
for the expedition against Juliers, which had been expressly excluded from
the affairs of the Union -- at the united princes appropriating to themselves
large pensions out of the common treasure -- and, above all,
at their refusing to give any account of its expenditure.

The Union was thus verging to its fall, at the moment when the League
started to oppose it in the vigour of its strength.  Want of supplies
disabled the confederates from any longer keeping the field.
And yet it was dangerous to lay down their weapons in the sight
of an armed enemy.  To secure themselves at least on one side,
they hastened to conclude a peace with their old enemy, the Archduke Leopold;
and both parties agreed to withdraw their troops from Alsace,
to exchange prisoners, and to bury all that had been done in oblivion.
Thus ended in nothing all these promising preparations.

The same imperious tone with which the Union, in the confidence
of its strength, had menaced the Roman Catholics of Germany,
was now retorted by the League upon themselves and their troops.
The traces of their march were pointed out to them, and plainly branded
with the hard epithets they had deserved.  The chapters of Wurtzburg,
Bamberg, Strasburg, Mentz, Treves, Cologne, and several others,
had experienced their destructive presence; to all these the damage done
was to be made good, the free passage by land and by water restored,
(for the Protestants had even seized on the navigation of the Rhine,)
and everything replaced on its former footing.  Above all,
the parties to the Union were called on to declare expressly and unequivocally
its intentions.  It was now their turn to yield to superior strength.
They had not calculated on so formidable an opponent; but they themselves
had taught the Roman Catholics the secret of their strength.
It was humiliating to their pride to sue for peace,
but they might think themselves fortunate in obtaining it.
The one party promised restitution, the other forgiveness.
All laid down their arms.  The storm of war once more rolled by,
and a temporary calm succeeded.  The insurrection in Bohemia then broke out,
which deprived the Emperor of the last of his hereditary dominions,
but in this dispute neither the Union nor the League took any share.

At length the Emperor died in 1612, as little regretted in his coffin
as noticed on the throne.  Long afterwards, when the miseries
of succeeding reigns had made the misfortunes of his reign forgotten,
a halo spread about his memory, and so fearful a night set in upon Germany,
that, with tears of blood, people prayed for the return of such an emperor.

Rodolph never could be prevailed upon to choose a successor in the empire,
and all awaited with anxiety the approaching vacancy of the throne;
but, beyond all hope, Matthias at once ascended it, and without opposition.
The Roman Catholics gave him their voices, because they hoped the best
from his vigour and activity; the Protestants gave him theirs,
because they hoped every thing from his weakness.  It is not difficult
to reconcile this contradiction.  The one relied on what he had once appeared;
the other judged him by what he seemed at present.

The moment of a new accession is always a day of hope; and the first Diet
of a king in elective monarchies is usually his severest trial.
Every old grievance is brought forward, and new ones are sought out,
that they may be included in the expected reform; quite a new world
is expected to commence with the new reign.  The important services which,
in his insurrection, their religious confederates in Austria had rendered
to Matthias, were still fresh in the minds of the Protestant free cities,
and, above all, the price which they had exacted for their services
seemed now to serve them also as a model.

It was by the favour of the Protestant Estates in Austria and Moravia
that Matthias had sought and really found the way to his brother's throne;
but, hurried on by his ambitious views, he never reflected
that a way was thus opened for the States to give laws to their sovereign.
This discovery soon awoke him from the intoxication of success.
Scarcely had he shown himself in triumph to his Austrian subjects,
after his victorious expedition to Bohemia, when a humble petition awaited him
which was quite sufficient to poison his whole triumph.
They required, before doing homage, unlimited religious toleration
in the cities and market towns, perfect equality of rights
between Roman Catholics and Protestants, and a full and equal admissibility
of the latter to all offices of state.  In several places,
they of themselves assumed these privileges, and, reckoning on a change
of administration, restored the Protestant religion where the late Emperor
had suppressed it.  Matthias, it is true, had not scrupled to make use
of the grievances of the Protestants for his own ends against the Emperor;
but it was far from being his intention to relieve them.
By a firm and resolute tone he hoped to check, at once,
these presumptuous demands.  He spoke of his hereditary title
to these territories, and would hear of no stipulations
before the act of homage.  A like unconditional submission
had been rendered by their neighbours, the inhabitants of Styria,
to the Archduke Ferdinand, who, however, had soon reason to repent of it.
Warned by this example, the Austrian States persisted in their refusal;
and, to avoid being compelled by force to do homage, their deputies
(after urging their Roman Catholic colleagues to a similar resistance)
immediately left the capital, and began to levy troops.

They took steps to renew their old alliance with Hungary,
drew the Protestant princes into their interests, and set themselves
seriously to work to accomplish their object by force of arms.

With the more exorbitant demands of the Hungarians
Matthias had not hesitated to comply.  For Hungary was an elective monarchy,
and the republican constitution of the country justified to himself
their demands, and to the Roman Catholic world his concessions.  In Austria,
on the contrary, his predecessors had exercised far higher prerogatives,
which he could not relinquish at the demand of the Estates without incurring
the scorn of Roman Catholic Europe, the enmity of Spain and Rome,
and the contempt of his own Roman Catholic subjects.  His exclusively
Romish council, among which the Bishop of Vienna, Melchio Kiesel,
had the chief influence, exhorted him to see all the churches
extorted from him by the Protestants, rather than to concede one to them
as a matter of right.

But by ill luck this difficulty occurred at a time when the Emperor Rodolph
was yet alive, and a spectator of this scene, and who might easily
have been tempted to employ against his brother the same weapons
which the latter had successfully directed against him -- namely,
an understanding with his rebellious subjects.  To avoid this blow,
Matthias willingly availed himself of the offer made by Moravia,
to act as mediator between him and the Estates of Austria.
Representatives of both parties met in Vienna, when the Austrian deputies held
language which would have excited surprise even in the English Parliament.
"The Protestants," they said, "are determined to be not worse treated
in their native country than the handful of Romanists.  By the help
of his Protestant nobles had Matthias reduced the Emperor to submission;
where 80 Papists were to be found, 300 Protestant barons might be counted.
The example of Rodolph should be a warning to Matthias.  He should take care
that he did not lose the terrestrial, in attempting to make conquests
for the celestial."  As the Moravian States, instead of using their powers
as mediators for the Emperor's advantage, finally adopted the cause
of their co-religionists of Austria; as the Union in Germany came forward
to afford them its most active support, and as Matthias dreaded reprisals
on the part of the Emperor, he was at length compelled to make
the desired declaration in favour of the Evangelical Church.

This behaviour of the Austrian Estates towards their Archduke was now imitated
by the Protestant Estates of the Empire towards their Emperor,
and they promised themselves the same favourable results.  At his first Diet
at Ratisbon in 1613, when the most pressing affairs were waiting for decision
-- when a general contribution was indispensable for a war against Turkey,
and against Bethlem Gabor in Transylvania, who by Turkish aid had
forcibly usurped the sovereignty of that land, and even threatened Hungary --
they surprised him with an entirely new demand.  The Roman Catholic votes
were still the most numerous in the Diet; and as every thing was decided
by a plurality of voices, the Protestant party, however closely united,
were entirely without consideration.  The advantage of this majority
the Roman Catholics were now called on to relinquish;
henceforward no one religious party was to be permitted to dictate
to the other by means of its invariable superiority.  And in truth,
if the evangelical religion was really to be represented in the Diet,
it was self-evident that it must not be shut out from the possibility of
making use of that privilege, merely from the constitution of the Diet itself.
Complaints of the judicial usurpations of the Aulic Council,
and of the oppression of the Protestants, accompanied this demand,
and the deputies of the Estates were instructed to take no part
in any general deliberations till a favourable answer should be given
on this preliminary point.

The Diet was torn asunder by this dangerous division,
which threatened to destroy for ever the unity of its deliberations.
Sincerely as the Emperor might have wished, after the example
of his father Maximilian, to preserve a prudent balance
between the two religions, the present conduct of the Protestants
seemed to leave him nothing but a critical choice between the two.
In his present necessities a general contribution from the Estates
was indispensable to him; and yet he could not conciliate the one party
without sacrificing the support of the other.  Insecure as he felt
his situation to be in his own hereditary dominions, he could not but tremble
at the idea, however remote, of an open war with the Protestants.
But the eyes of the whole Roman Catholic world, which were attentively
regarding his conduct, the remonstrances of the Roman Catholic Estates,
and of the Courts of Rome and Spain, as little permitted him
to favour the Protestant at the expense of the Romish religion.

So critical a situation would have paralysed a greater mind than Matthias;
and his own prudence would scarcely have extricated him from his dilemma.
But the interests of the Roman Catholics were closely interwoven
with the imperial authority; if they suffered this to fall,
the ecclesiastical princes in particular would be without a bulwark
against the attacks of the Protestants.  Now, then, that they saw
the Emperor wavering, they thought it high time to reassure
his sinking courage.  They imparted to him the secret of their League,
and acquainted him with its whole constitution, resources and power.
Little comforting as such a revelation must have been to the Emperor,
the prospect of so powerful a support gave him greater boldness
to oppose the Protestants.  Their demands were rejected, and the Diet broke up
without coming to a decision.  But Matthias was the victim of this dispute.
The Protestants refused him their supplies, and made him alone suffer
for the inflexibility of the Roman Catholics.

The Turks, however, appeared willing to prolong the cessation of hostilities,
and Bethlem Gabor was left in peaceable possession of Transylvania.
The empire was now free from foreign enemies; and even at home,
in the midst of all these fearful disputes, peace still reigned.
An unexpected accident had given a singular turn to the dispute
as to the succession of Juliers.  This duchy was still ruled conjointly
by the Electoral House of Brandenburg and the Palatine of Neuburg;
and a marriage between the Prince of Neuburg and a Princess of Brandenburg
was to have inseparably united the interests of the two houses.
But the whole scheme was upset by a box on the ear, which,
in a drunken brawl, the Elector of Brandenburg unfortunately inflicted
upon his intended son-in-law.  From this moment the good understanding
between the two houses was at an end.  The Prince of Neuburg embraced popery.
The hand of a princess of Bavaria rewarded his apostacy,
and the strong support of Bavaria and Spain was the natural result of both.
To secure to the Palatine the exclusive possession of Juliers,
the Spanish troops from the Netherlands were marched into the Palatinate.
To rid himself of these guests, the Elector of Brandenburg
called the Flemings to his assistance, whom he sought to propitiate
by embracing the Calvinist religion.  Both Spanish and Dutch armies appeared,
but, as it seemed, only to make conquests for themselves.

The neighbouring war of the Netherlands seemed now about to be decided
on German ground; and what an inexhaustible mine of combustibles
lay here ready for it!  The Protestants saw with consternation
the Spaniards establishing themselves upon the Lower Rhine;
with still greater anxiety did the Roman Catholics see the Hollanders
bursting through the frontiers of the empire.  It was in the west
that the mine was expected to explode which had long been dug
under the whole of Germany.  To the west, apprehension and anxiety turned;
but the spark which kindled the flame came unexpectedly from the east.

The tranquillity which Rodolph II.'s `Letter of Majesty' had established
in Bohemia lasted for some time, under the administration of Matthias,
till the nomination of a new heir to this kingdom in the person of
Ferdinand of Gratz.

This prince, whom we shall afterwards become better acquainted with
under the title of Ferdinand II., Emperor of Germany, had,
by the violent extirpation of the Protestant religion within his
hereditary dominions, announced himself as an inexorable zealot for popery,
and was consequently looked upon by the Roman Catholic part of Bohemia
as the future pillar of their church.  The declining health of the Emperor
brought on this hour rapidly; and, relying on so powerful a supporter,
the Bohemian Papists began to treat the Protestants with little moderation.
The Protestant vassals of Roman Catholic nobles, in particular,
experienced the harshest treatment.  At length several of the former
were incautious enough to speak somewhat loudly of their hopes,
and by threatening hints to awaken among the Protestants
a suspicion of their future sovereign.  But this mistrust would never have
broken out into actual violence, had the Roman Catholics confined themselves
to general expressions, and not by attacks on individuals
furnished the discontent of the people with enterprising leaders.

Henry Matthias, Count Thurn, not a native of Bohemia, but proprietor
of some estates in that kingdom, had, by his zeal for the Protestant cause,
and an enthusiastic attachment to his newly adopted country,
gained the entire confidence of the Utraquists, which opened him the way to
the most important posts.  He had fought with great glory against the Turks,
and won by a flattering address the hearts of the multitude.
Of a hot and impetuous disposition, which loved tumult because his talents
shone in it -- rash and thoughtless enough to undertake things
which cold prudence and a calmer temper would not have ventured upon --
unscrupulous enough, where the gratification of his passions was concerned,
to sport with the fate of thousands, and at the same time politic enough
to hold in leading-strings such a people as the Bohemians then were.
He had already taken an active part in the troubles
under Rodolph's administration; and the Letter of Majesty which the States
had extorted from that Emperor, was chiefly to be laid to his merit.
The court had intrusted to him, as burgrave or castellan of Calstein,
the custody of the Bohemian crown, and of the national charter.
But the nation had placed in his hands something far more important --
ITSELF -- with the office of defender or protector of the faith.
The aristocracy by which the Emperor was ruled, imprudently deprived him
of this harmless guardianship of the dead, to leave him his full influence
over the living.  They took from him his office of burgrave,
or constable of the castle, which had rendered him dependent on the court,
thereby opening his eyes to the importance of the other which remained,
and wounded his vanity, which yet was the thing that made
his ambition harmless.  From this moment he was actuated solely
by a desire of revenge; and the opportunity of gratifying it
was not long wanting.

In the Royal Letter which the Bohemians had extorted from Rodolph II.,
as well as in the German religious treaty, one material article
remained undetermined.  All the privileges granted by the latter to
the Protestants, were conceived in favour of the Estates or governing bodies,
not of the subjects; for only to those of the ecclesiastical states
had a toleration, and that precarious, been conceded.
The Bohemian Letter of Majesty, in the same manner, spoke only of the Estates
and imperial towns, the magistrates of which had contrived to obtain
equal privileges with the former.  These alone were free to erect
churches and schools, and openly to celebrate their Protestant worship;
in all other towns, it was left entirely to the government
to which they belonged, to determine the religion of the inhabitants.
The Estates of the Empire had availed themselves of this privilege
in its fullest extent; the secular indeed without opposition;
while the ecclesiastical, in whose case the declaration of Ferdinand
had limited this privilege, disputed, not without reason,
the validity of that limitation.  What was a disputed point in
the religious treaty, was left still more doubtful in the Letter of Majesty;
in the former, the construction was not doubtful, but it was a question
how far obedience might be compulsory; in the latter, the interpretation
was left to the states.  The subjects of the ecclesiastical Estates in Bohemia
thought themselves entitled to the same rights which the declaration
of Ferdinand secured to the subjects of German bishops,
they considered themselves on an equality with the subjects of imperial towns,
because they looked upon the ecclesiastical property as part of
the royal demesnes.  In the little town of Klostergrab,
subject to the Archbishop of Prague; and in Braunau, which belonged to
the abbot of that monastery, churches were founded by the Protestants,
and completed notwithstanding the opposition of their superiors,
and the disapprobation of the Emperor.

In the meantime, the vigilance of the defenders had somewhat relaxed,
and the court thought it might venture on a decisive step.
By the Emperor's orders, the church at Klostergrab was pulled down;
that at Braunau forcibly shut up, and the most turbulent of the citizens
thrown into prison.  A general commotion among the Protestants
was the consequence of this measure; a loud outcry was everywhere raised
at this violation of the Letter of Majesty; and Count Thurn,
animated by revenge, and particularly called upon by his office of defender,
showed himself not a little busy in inflaming the minds of the people.
At his instigation deputies were summoned to Prague from every circle
in the empire, to concert the necessary measures against the common danger.
It was resolved to petition the Emperor to press for
the liberation of the prisoners.  The answer of the Emperor,
already offensive to the states, from its being addressed, not to them,
but to his viceroy, denounced their conduct as illegal and rebellious,
justified what had been done at Klostergrab and Braunau as the result
of an imperial mandate, and contained some passages that might be construed
into threats.

Count Thurn did not fail to augment the unfavourable impression
which this imperial edict made upon the assembled Estates.
He pointed out to them the danger in which all who had signed the petition
were involved, and sought by working on their resentment and fears
to hurry them into violent resolutions.  To have caused
their immediate revolt against the Emperor, would have been, as yet,
too bold a measure.  It was only step by step that he would lead them on
to this unavoidable result.  He held it, therefore, advisable first to direct
their indignation against the Emperor's counsellors; and for that purpose
circulated a report, that the imperial proclamation had been drawn up
by the government at Prague, and only signed in Vienna.
Among the imperial delegates, the chief objects of the popular hatred,
were the President of the Chamber, Slawata, and Baron Martinitz,
who had been elected in place of Count Thurn, Burgrave of Calstein.
Both had long before evinced pretty openly their hostile feelings
towards the Protestants, by alone refusing to be present at the sitting
at which the Letter of Majesty had been inserted in the Bohemian constitution.
A threat was made at the time to make them responsible
for every violation of the Letter of Majesty; and from this moment,
whatever evil befell the Protestants was set down, and not without reason,
to their account.  Of all the Roman Catholic nobles,
these two had treated their Protestant vassals with the greatest harshness.
They were accused of hunting them with dogs to the mass,
and of endeavouring to drive them to popery by a denial of the rites
of baptism, marriage, and burial.  Against two characters so unpopular
the public indignation was easily excited, and they were marked out
for a sacrifice to the general indignation.

On the 23rd of May, 1618, the deputies appeared armed, and in great numbers,
at the royal palace, and forced their way into the hall where
the Commissioners Sternberg, Martinitz, Lobkowitz, and Slawata were assembled.
In a threatening tone they demanded to know from each of them,
whether he had taken any part, or had consented to, the imperial proclamation.
Sternberg received them with composure, Martinitz and Slawata with defiance.
This decided their fate; Sternberg and Lobkowitz, less hated, and more feared,
were led by the arm out of the room; Martinitz and Slawata were seized,
dragged to a window, and precipitated from a height of eighty feet,
into the castle trench.  Their creature, the secretary Fabricius,
was thrown after them.  This singular mode of execution naturally
excited the surprise of civilized nations.  The Bohemians justified it
as a national custom, and saw nothing remarkable in the whole affair,
excepting that any one should have got up again safe and sound
after such a fall.  A dunghill, on which the imperial commissioners
chanced to be deposited, had saved them from injury.

It was not to be expected that this summary mode of proceeding
would much increase the favour of the parties with the Emperor,
but this was the very position to which Count Thurn wished to bring them.
If, from the fear of uncertain danger, they had permitted themselves
such an act of violence, the certain expectation of punishment,
and the now urgent necessity of making themselves secure, would plunge them
still deeper into guilt.  By this brutal act of self-redress,
no room was left for irresolution or repentance, and it seemed as if
a single crime could be absolved only by a series of violences.
As the deed itself could not be undone, nothing was left
but to disarm the hand of punishment.  Thirty directors were appointed
to organise a regular insurrection.  They seized upon
all the offices of state, and all the imperial revenues,
took into their own service the royal functionaries and the soldiers,
and summoned the whole Bohemian nation to avenge the common cause.
The Jesuits, whom the common hatred accused as the instigators
of every previous oppression, were banished the kingdom,
and this harsh measure the Estates found it necessary to justify
in a formal manifesto.  These various steps were taken for the preservation
of the royal authority and the laws -- the language of all rebels
till fortune has decided in their favour.

The emotion which the news of the Bohemian insurrection excited
at the imperial court, was much less lively than such intelligence deserved.
The Emperor Matthias was no longer the resolute spirit that formerly
sought out his king and master in the very bosom of his people,
and hurled him from three thrones.  The confidence and courage which
had animated him in an usurpation, deserted him in a legitimate self-defence.
The Bohemian rebels had first taken up arms, and the nature of circumstances
drove him to join them.  But he could not hope to confine such a war
to Bohemia.  In all the territories under his dominion,
the Protestants were united by a dangerous sympathy --
the common danger of their religion might suddenly combine them all
into a formidable republic.  What could he oppose to such an enemy,
if the Protestant portion of his subjects deserted him?
And would not both parties exhaust themselves in so ruinous a civil war?
How much was at stake if he lost; and if he won, whom else would he destroy
but his own subjects?

Considerations such as these inclined the Emperor and his council
to concessions and pacific measures, but it was in this very spirit
of concession that, as others would have it, lay the origin of the evil.
The Archduke Ferdinand of Gratz congratulated the Emperor upon an event,
which would justify in the eyes of all Europe the severest measures
against the Bohemian Protestants.  "Disobedience, lawlessness,
and insurrection," he said, "went always hand-in-hand with Protestantism.
Every privilege which had been conceded to the Estates by himself
and his predecessor, had had no other effect than to raise their demands.
All the measures of the heretics were aimed against the imperial authority.
Step by step had they advanced from defiance to defiance
up to this last aggression; in a short time they would assail
all that remained to be assailed, in the person of the Emperor.  In arms alone
was there any safety against such an enemy -- peace and subordination
could be only established upon the ruins of their dangerous privileges;
security for the Catholic belief was to be found only in the total destruction
of this sect.  Uncertain, it was true, might be the event of the war,
but inevitable was the ruin if it were pretermitted.
The confiscation of the lands of the rebels would richly indemnify them
for its expenses, while the terror of punishment would teach the other states
the wisdom of a prompt obedience in future."  Were the Bohemian Protestants
to blame, if they armed themselves in time against the enforcement
of such maxims?  The insurrection in Bohemia, besides,
was directed only against the successor of the Emperor, not against himself,
who had done nothing to justify the alarm of the Protestants.
To exclude this prince from the Bohemian throne, arms had before been taken up
under Matthias, though as long as this Emperor lived, his subjects had kept
within the bounds of an apparent submission.

But Bohemia was in arms, and unarmed, the Emperor dared not even
offer them peace.  For this purpose, Spain supplied gold,
and promised to send troops from Italy and the Netherlands.
Count Bucquoi, a native of the Netherlands, was named generalissimo,
because no native could be trusted, and Count Dampierre, another foreigner,
commanded under him.  Before the army took the field,
the Emperor endeavoured to bring about an amicable arrangement,
by the publication of a manifesto.  In this he assured the Bohemians,
"that he held sacred the Letter of Majesty -- that he had not formed
any resolutions inimical to their religion or their privileges,
and that his present preparations were forced upon him by their own.
As soon as the nation laid down their arms, he also would disband his army."
But this gracious letter failed of its effect, because the leaders
of the insurrection contrived to hide from the people
the Emperor's good intentions.  Instead of this, they circulated
the most alarming reports from the pulpit, and by pamphlets,
and terrified the deluded populace with threatened horrors
of another Saint Bartholomew's that existed only in their own imagination.
All Bohemia, with the exception of three towns, Budweiss, Krummau, and Pilsen,
took part in this insurrection.  These three towns, inhabited principally
by Roman Catholics, alone had the courage, in this general revolt,
to hold out for the Emperor, who promised them assistance.
But it could not escape Count Thurn, how dangerous it was
to leave in hostile hands three places of such importance,
which would at all times keep open for the imperial troops
an entrance into the kingdom.  With prompt determination
he appeared before Budweiss and Krummau, in the hope of terrifying them
into a surrender.  Krummau surrendered, but all his attacks
were steadfastly repulsed by Budweiss.

And now, too, the Emperor began to show more earnestness and energy.
Bucquoi and Dampierre, with two armies, fell upon the Bohemian territories,
which they treated as a hostile country.  But the imperial generals
found the march to Prague more difficult than they had expected.  Every pass,
every position that was the least tenable, must be opened by the sword,
and resistance increased at each fresh step they took, for the outrages
of their troops, chiefly consisting of Hungarians and Walloons,
drove their friends to revolt and their enemies to despair.
But even now that his troops had penetrated into Bohemia,
the Emperor continued to offer the Estates peace, and to show himself ready
for an amicable adjustment.  But the new prospects which opened upon them,
raised the courage of the revolters.  Moravia espoused their party;
and from Germany appeared to them a defender equally intrepid and unexpected,
in the person of Count Mansfeld.

The heads of the Evangelic Union had been silent but not inactive spectators
of the movements in Bohemia.  Both were contending for the same cause,
and against the same enemy.  In the fate of the Bohemians,
their confederates in the faith might read their own;
and the cause of this people was represented as of solemn concern
to the whole German union.  True to these principles, the Unionists supported
the courage of the insurgents by promises of assistance;
and a fortunate accident now enabled them, beyond their hopes, to fulfil them.

The instrument by which the House of Austria was humbled in Germany,
was Peter Ernest, Count Mansfeld, the son of a distinguished Austrian officer,
Ernest von Mansfeld, who for some time had commanded with repute
the Spanish army in the Netherlands.  His first campaigns
in Juliers and Alsace had been made in the service of this house,
and under the banner of the Archduke Leopold, against the Protestant religion
and the liberties of Germany.  But insensibly won by the principles
of this religion, he abandoned a leader whose selfishness denied him
the reimbursement of the monies expended in his cause,
and he transferred his zeal and a victorious sword to the Evangelic Union.
It happened just then that the Duke of Savoy, an ally of the Union,
demanded assistance in a war against Spain.  They assigned to him
their newly acquired servant, and Mansfeld received instructions to raise
an army of 4000 men in Germany, in the cause and in the pay of the duke.
The army was ready to march at the very moment when the flames of war
burst out in Bohemia, and the duke, who at the time did not stand in need
of its services, placed it at the disposal of the Union.
Nothing could be more welcome to these troops than the prospect of aiding
their confederates in Bohemia, at the cost of a third party.
Mansfeld received orders forthwith to march with these 4000 men
into that kingdom; and a pretended Bohemian commission was given
to blind the public as to the true author of this levy.

This Mansfeld now appeared in Bohemia, and, by the occupation of Pilsen,
strongly fortified and favourable to the Emperor, obtained a firm footing
in the country.  The courage of the rebels was farther increased
by succours which the Silesian States despatched to their assistance.
Between these and the Imperialists, several battles were fought,
far indeed from decisive, but only on that account the more destructive,
which served as the prelude to a more serious war.  To check the vigour
of his military operations, a negotiation was entered into with the Emperor,
and a disposition was shown to accept the proffered mediation of Saxony.
But before the event could prove how little sincerity there was
in these proposals, the Emperor was removed from the scene by death.

What now had Matthias done to justify the expectations which he had excited
by the overthrow of his predecessor?  Was it worth while to ascend
a brother's throne through guilt, and then maintain it with so little dignity,
and leave it with so little renown?  As long as Matthias sat on the throne,
he had to atone for the imprudence by which he had gained it.
To enjoy the regal dignity a few years sooner, he had shackled
the free exercise of its prerogatives.  The slender portion of independence
left him by the growing power of the Estates, was still farther lessened
by the encroachments of his relations.  Sickly and childless
he saw the attention of the world turned to an ambitious heir
who was impatiently anticipating his fate; and who, by his interference
with the closing administration, was already opening his own.

With Matthias, the reigning line of the German House of Austria
was in a manner extinct; for of all the sons of Maximilian,
one only was now alive, the weak and childless Archduke Albert,
in the Netherlands, who had already renounced his claims to the inheritance
in favour of the line of Gratz.  The Spanish House had also,
in a secret bond, resigned its pretensions to the Austrian possessions
in behalf of the Archduke Ferdinand of Styria, in whom the branch of Hapsburg
was about to put forth new shoots, and the former greatness of Austria
to experience a revival.

The father of Ferdinand was the Archduke Charles of Carniola, Carinthia,
and Styria, the youngest brother of the Emperor Maximilian II.; his mother
a princess of Bavaria.  Having lost his father at twelve years of age,
he was intrusted by the archduchess to the guardianship
of her brother William, Duke of Bavaria, under whose eyes
he was instructed and educated by Jesuits at the Academy of Ingolstadt.
What principles he was likely to imbibe by his intercourse with a prince,
who from motives of devotion had abdicated his government,
may be easily conceived.  Care was taken to point out to him, on the one hand,
the weak indulgence of Maximilian's house towards the adherents
of the new doctrines, and the consequent troubles of their dominions;
on the other, the blessings of Bavaria, and the inflexible religious zeal
of its rulers; between these two examples he was left to choose for himself.

Formed in this school to be a stout champion of the faith,
and a prompt instrument of the church, he left Bavaria,
after a residence of five years, to assume the government
of his hereditary dominions.  The Estates of Carniola, Carinthia, and Styria,
who, before doing homage, demanded a guarantee for freedom of religion,
were told that religious liberty has nothing to do with their allegiance.
The oath was put to them without conditions, and unconditionally taken.
Many years, however, elapsed, ere the designs which had been
planned at Ingolstadt were ripe for execution.  Before attempting
to carry them into effect, he sought in person at Loretto
the favour of the Virgin, and received the apostolic benediction in Rome
at the feet of Clement VIII.

These designs were nothing less than the expulsion of Protestantism
from a country where it had the advantage of numbers, and had been
legally recognized by a formal act of toleration, granted by his father
to the noble and knightly estates of the land.  A grant so formally ratified
could not be revoked without danger; but no difficulties could deter
the pious pupil of the Jesuits.  The example of other states,
both Roman Catholic and Protestant, which within their own territories
had exercised unquestioned a right of reformation,
and the abuse which the Estates of Styria made of their religious liberties,
would serve as a justification of this violent procedure.  Under the shelter
of an absurd positive law, those of equity and prudence might, it was thought,
be safely despised.  In the execution of these unrighteous designs,
Ferdinand did, it must be owned, display no common courage and perseverance.
Without tumult, and we may add, without cruelty,
he suppressed the Protestant service in one town after another,
and in a few years, to the astonishment of Germany,
this dangerous work was brought to a successful end.

But, while the Roman Catholics admired him as a hero,
and the champion of the church, the Protestants began to combine against him
as against their most dangerous enemy.  And yet Matthias's intention
to bequeath to him the succession, met with little or no opposition
in the elective states of Austria.  Even the Bohemians agreed
to receive him as their future king, on very favourable conditions.
It was not until afterwards, when they had experienced
the pernicious influence of his councils on the administration of the Emperor,
that their anxiety was first excited; and then several projects,
in his handwriting, which an unlucky chance threw into their hands,
as they plainly evinced his disposition towards them,
carried their apprehension to the utmost pitch.  In particular,
they were alarmed by a secret family compact with Spain, by which,
in default of heirs-male of his own body, Ferdinand bequeathed to that crown
the kingdom of Bohemia, without first consulting the wishes of that nation,
and without regard to its right of free election.  The many enemies, too,
which by his reforms in Styria that prince had provoked among the Protestants,
were very prejudicial to his interests in Bohemia; and some Styrian emigrants,
who had taken refuge there, bringing with them into their adopted country
hearts overflowing with a desire of revenge, were particularly active
in exciting the flame of revolt.  Thus ill-affected did Ferdinand find
the Bohemians, when he succeeded Matthias.

So bad an understanding between the nation and the candidate for the throne,
would have raised a storm even in the most peaceable succession;
how much more so at the present moment, before the ardour of insurrection
had cooled; when the nation had just recovered its dignity,
and reasserted its rights; when they still held arms in their hands,
and the consciousness of unity had awakened an enthusiastic reliance
on their own strength; when by past success, by the promises
of foreign assistance, and by visionary expectations of the future,
their courage had been raised to an undoubting confidence.
Disregarding the rights already conferred on Ferdinand,
the Estates declared the throne vacant, and their right of election
entirely unfettered.  All hopes of their peaceful submission were at an end,
and if Ferdinand wished still to wear the crown of Bohemia,
he must choose between purchasing it at the sacrifice of all
that would make a crown desirable, or winning it sword in hand.

But with what means was it to be won?  Turn his eyes where he would,
the fire of revolt was burning.  Silesia had already joined the insurgents
in Bohemia; Moravia was on the point of following its example.
In Upper and Lower Austria the spirit of liberty was awake,
as it had been under Rodolph, and the Estates refused to do homage.
Hungary was menaced with an inroad by Prince Bethlen Gabor,
on the side of Transylvania; a secret arming among the Turks
spread consternation among the provinces to the eastward;
and, to complete his perplexities, the Protestants also,
in his hereditary dominions, stimulated by the general example,
were again raising their heads.  In that quarter,
their numbers were overwhelming; in most places they had possession
of the revenues which Ferdinand would need for the maintenance of the war.
The neutral began to waver, the faithful to be discouraged,
the turbulent alone to be animated and confident.  One half of Germany
encouraged the rebels, the other inactively awaited the issue;
Spanish assistance was still very remote.  The moment which
had brought him every thing, threatened also to deprive him of all.