The Count of Thurn, as prudent as he was bold, as deliberate as he was energetic, aware of the fearful hazard of entering into hostilities with the sovereign who was at the same time king of all the Austrian realms, and Emperor of Germany, conferred with the leading Protestant princes, and organized a confederacy so strong that all the energies of the empire could with difficulty crush it. They were not disposed to make any aggressive movements, but to defend their rights if assailed. The inhabitants of a town in the vicinity of Prague began to erect a church for Protestant worship. The Roman Catholic bishop, who presided over that diocese, forbade them to proceed. They plead a royal edict, which authorized them to erect the church, and continued their work, regardless of the prohibition. Count Thurn encouraged them to persevere, promising them ample support. The bishop appealed to the Emperor Matthias. He also issued his prohibition; but aware of the strength of the Protestants, did not venture to attempt to enforce it by arms. Ferdinand, however, was not disposed to yield to this spirit, and by his influence obtained an order, demanding the immediate surrender of the church to the Catholics, or its entire demolition. The bishop attempted its destruction by an armed force, but the Protestants defended their property, and sent a committee to Matthias, petitioning for a revocation of the mandate. These deputies were seized and imprisoned by the king, and an imperial force was sent to the town, Brunau, to take possession of the church. From so small a beginning rose the Thirty Years' War.

Count Thurn immediately summoned a convention of six delegates from each of the districts, called circles in Bohemia. The delegates met at Prague on the 16th of March, 1618. An immense concourse of Protestants from all parts of the surrounding country accompanied the delegates to the capital. Count Thurn was a man of surpassing eloquence, and seemed to control at will all the passions of the human heart. In the boldest strains of eloquence he addressed the assembly, and roused them to the most enthusiastic resolve to defend at all hazards their civil and religious rights. They unanimously passed a resolve that the demolition of the church and the suspension of the Protestant worship were violations of the royal edict, and they drew up a petition to the emperor demanding the redress of this grievance, and the liberation of the imprisoned deputies from Brunau. The meeting then adjourned, to be reassembled soon to hear the reply of the emperor.

As the delegates and the multitudes who accompanied them returned to their homes, they spread everywhere the impression produced upon their minds by the glowing eloquence of Count Thurn. The Protestant mind was roused to the highest pitch by the truthful representation, that the court had adopted a deliberate plan for the utter extirpation of Protestant worship throughout Bohemia, and that foreign troops were to be brought in to execute this decree. These convictions were strengthened and the alarm increased by the defiant reply which Matthias sent back from his palace in Vienna to his Bohemian subjects. He accused the delegates of treason and of circulating false and slanderous reports, and declared that they should be punished according to their deserts. He forbade them to meet again, or to interfere in any way with the affairs of Brunau, stating that at his leisure he would repair to Prague and attend to the business himself.

The king could not have framed an answer better calculated to exasperate the people, and rouse them to the most determined resistance. Count Thurn, regardless of the prohibition, called the delegates together and read to them the answer, which the king had not addressed to them but to the council of regency. He then addressed them again in those impassioned strains which he had ever at command, and roused them almost to fury against those Catholic lords who had dictated this answer to the king and obtained his signature.

The next day the nobles met again. They came to the place of meeting thoroughly armed and surrounded by their retainers, prepared to repel force by force. Count Thurn now wished to lead them to some act of hostility so decisive that they would be irrecoverably committed. The king's council of regency was then assembled in the palace of Prague. The regency consisted of seven Catholics and three Protestants. For some unknown reason the Protestant lords were not present on this occasion. Three of the members of the regency, Slavata and Martinetz and the burgrave of Prague, were peculiarly obnoxious on account of the implacable spirit with which they had ever persecuted the reformers. These lords were the especial friends of Ferdinand and had great influence with Matthias, and it was not doubted that they had framed the answer which the emperor had returned. Incited by Count Thurn, several of the most resolute of the delegates, led by the count, proceeded to the palace, and burst into the room where the regency was in session.

Their leader, addressing Slavata, Martinetz, and Diepold, the burgrave, said, "Our business is with you. We wish to know if you are responsible for the answer returned to us by the king."

"That," one of them replied, "is a secret of state which we are not bound to reveal."

"Let us follow," exclaimed the Protestant chief, "the ancient custom of Bohemia, and hurl them from the window."

They were in a room in the tower of the castle, and it was eighty feet to the water of the moat. The Catholic lords were instantly seized, dragged to the window and thrust out. Almost incredible as it may seem, the water and the mud of the moat so broke their fall, that neither of them was killed. They all recovered from the effects of their fall. Having performed this deed, Count Thurn and his companions returned to the delegates, informed them of what they had done, and urged them that the only hope of safety now, for any Protestant, was for all to unite in open and desperate resistance. Then mounting his horse, and protected by a strong body-guard, he rode through the streets of Prague, stopping at every corner to harangue the Protestant populace. The city was thronged on the occasion by Protestants from all parts of the kingdom.

"I do not," he exclaimed, "propose myself as your chief, but as your companion, in that peril which will lead us to happy freedom or to glorious death. The die is thrown. It is too late to recall what is past. Your safety depends alone on unanimity and courage, and if you hesitate to burst asunder your chains, you have no alternative but to perish by the hands of the executioner."

He was everywhere greeted with shouts of enthusiasm, and the whole Protestant population were united as one man in the cause. Even many of the moderate Catholics, disgusted with the despotism of the newly elected king, which embraced civil as well as religious affairs, joined the Protestants, for they feared the loss of their civil rights more than they dreaded the inroads of heresy.

With amazing celerity they now organized to repel the force which they knew that the emperor would immediately send to crush them. Within three days their plans were all matured and an organization effected which made the king tremble in his palace. Count Thurn was appointed their commander, an executive committee of thirty very efficient men was chosen, which committee immediately issued orders for the levy of troops all over the kingdom. Envoys were sent to Moravia, Silesia, Lusatia, and Hungary, and to the Protestants all over the German empire. The Archbishop of Prague was expelled from the city, and the Jesuits were also banished. They then issued a proclamation in defense of their conduct, which they sent to the king with a firm but respectful letter.

One can not but be amused in reading their defense of the outrage against the council of regency. "We have thrown from the windows," they said, "the two ministers who have been the enemies of the State, together with their creature and flatterer, in conformity with an ancient custom prevalent throughout all Bohemia, as well as in the capital. This custom is justified by the example of Jezebel in holy Writ, who was thrown from a window for persecuting the people of God; and it was common among the Romans, and all other nations of antiquity, who hurled the disturbers of the public peace from rocks and precipices."

Matthias had very reluctantly sent his insulting and defiant answer to the reasonable complaints of the Protestants, and he was thunderstruck in contemplating the storm which had thus been raised—a storm which apparently no human wisdom could now allay. There are no energies so potent as those which are aroused by religious convictions. Matthias well knew the ascendency of the Protestants all over Bohemia, and that their spirit, once thoroughly aroused, could not be easily quelled by any opposing force he could array. He was also aware that Ferdinand was thoroughly detested by the Protestant leaders, and that it was by no means improbable that this revolt would thwart all his plans in securing his succession.

As the Protestants had not renounced their allegiance, Matthias was strongly disposed to measures of conciliation, and several of the most influential, yet fair-minded Catholics supported him in these views. The Protestants were too numerous to be annihilated, and too strong in their desperation to be crushed. But Ferdinand, guided by the Jesuits, was implacable. He issued a manifesto, which was but a transcript of his own soul, and which is really sublime in the sincerity and fervor of its intolerance.

"All attempts," said he, "to bring to reason a people whom God has struck with judicial blindness will be in vain. Since the introduction of heresy into Bohemia, we have seen nothing but tumults, disobedience and rebellion. While the Catholics and the sovereign have displayed only lenity and moderation, these sects have become stronger, more violent and more insolent; having gained all their objects in religious affairs, they turn their arms against the civil government, and attack the supreme authority under the pretense of conscience; not content with confederating themselves against their sovereign, they have usurped the power of taxation, and have made alliances with foreign States, particularly with the Protestant princes of Germany, in order to deprive him of the very means of reducing them to obedience. They have left nothing to the sovereign but his palaces and the convents; and after their recent outrages against his ministers, and the usurpation of the regal revenues, no object remains for their vengeance and rapacity but the persons of the sovereign and his successor, and the whole house of Austria.

"If sovereign power emanates from God, these atrocious deeds must proceed from the devil, and therefore must draw down divine punishment. Neither can God be pleased with the conduct of the sovereign, in conniving at or acquiescing in all the demands of the disobedient. Nothing now remains for him, but to submit to be lorded by his subjects, or to free himself from this disgraceful slavery before his territories are formed into a republic. The rebels have at length deprived themselves of the only plausible argument which their preachers have incessantly thundered from the pulpit, that they were contending for religious freedom; and the emperor and the house of Austria have now the fairest opportunity to convince the world that their sole object is only to deliver themselves from slavery and restore their legal authority. They are secure of divine support, and they have only the alternative of a war by which they may regain their power, or a peace which is far more dishonorable and dangerous than war. If successful, the forfeited property of the rebels will defray the expense of their armaments; if the event of hostilities be unfortunate, they can only lose, with honor, and with arms in their hands, the rights and prerogatives which are and will be wrested from them with shame and dishonor. It is better not to reign than to be the slave of subjects. It is far more desirable and glorious to shed our blood at the foot of the throne than to be driven from it like criminals and malefactors."

Matthias endeavored to unite his own peace policy with the energetic warlike measures urged by Ferdinand. He attempted to overawe by a great demonstration of physical force, while at the same time he made very pacific proposals. Applying to Spain for aid, the Spanish court sent him eight thousand troops from the Netherlands; he also raised, in his own dominions, ten thousand men. Having assembled this force he sent word to the Protestants, that if they would disband their force he would do the same, and that he would confirm the royal edict and give full security for the maintenance of their civil and religious privileges. The Protestants refused to disband, knowing that they could place no reliance upon the word of the unstable monarch who was crowded by the rising power of the energetic Ferdinand. The ambitious naturally deserted the court of the sovereign whose days were declining, to enlist in the service of one who was just entering upon the kingly power.

Ferdinand was enraged at what he considered the pusillanimity of the king. Maximilian, the younger brother of Matthias, cordially espoused the cause of Ferdinand. Cardinal Kleses, a Catholic of commanding influence and of enlightened, liberal views, was the counselor of the king. Ferdinand and Maximilian resolved that he should no longer have access to the ear of the pliant monarch, but he could be removed from the court only by violence. With an armed band they entered the palace at Vienna, seized the cardinal in the midst of the court, stripped him of his robes, hurried him into a carriage, and conveyed him to a strong castle in the midst of the mountains of the Tyrol, where they held him a close prisoner. The emperor was at the time confined to his bed with the gout. As soon as they had sent off the cardinal, Ferdinand and Maximilian repaired to the royal chamber, informed the emperor of what they had done, and attempted to justify the deed on the plea that the cardinal was a weak and wicked minister whose policy would certainly divide and ruin the house of Austria.

The emperor was in his bed as he received this insulting announcement of a still more insulting outrage. For a moment he was speechless with rage. But he was old, sick and powerless. This act revealed to him that the scepter had fallen from his hands. In a paroxysm of excitement, to prevent himself from speaking he thrust the bed-clothes into his mouth, nearly suffocating himself. Resistance was in vain. He feared that should he manifest any, he also might be torn from his palace, a captive, to share the prison of the cardinal. In sullen indignation he submitted to the outrage.

Ferdinand and Maximilian now pursued their energetic measures of hostility unopposed. They immediately put the army in motion to invade Bohemia, and boasted that the Protestants should soon be punished with severity which would teach them a lesson they would never forget. But the Protestants were on the alert. Every town in the kingdom had joined in the confederacy, and in a few weeks Count Thurn found himself at the head of ten thousand men inspired with the most determined spirit. The Silesians and Lusatians marched to help them, and the Protestant league of Germany sent them timely supplies. The troops of Ferdinand found opponents in every pass and in every defile, and in their endeavor to force their way through the fastnesses of the mountains, were frequently driven back with great loss. At length the troops of Ferdinand, defeated at every point, were compelled to retreat in shame back to Austria, leaving all Bohemia in the hands of the Protestants.

Ferdinand was now in trouble and disgrace. His plans had signally failed. The Protestants all over Germany were in arms, and their spirits roused to the highest pitch; many of the moderate Catholics refused to march against them, declaring that the Protestants were right in resisting such oppression. They feared Ferdinand, and were apprehensive that his despotic temper, commencing with religious intolerance, would terminate in civil tyranny. It was evident to all that the Protestants could not be put down by force of arms, and even Ferdinand was so intensely humiliated that he was constrained to assent to the proposal which Matthias made to refer their difficulty to arbitration. Four princes were selected as the referees—the Electors of Mentz, Bavaria, Saxony and Palatine. They were to meet at Egra the 14th of April, 1619.

But Matthias, the victim of disappointment and grief, was now rapidly approaching his end. The palace at Vienna was shrouded in gloom, and no smiles were seen there, and no sounds of joy were heard in those regal saloons. The wife of Matthias, whom he tenderly loved, oppressed by the humiliation and anguish which she saw her husband enduring, died of a broken heart. Matthias was inconsolable under this irretrievable loss. Lying upon his bed tortured with the pain of the gout, sinking under incurable disease, with no pleasant memories of the past to cheer him, with disgrace and disaster accumulating, and with no bright hopes beyond the grave, he loathed life and dreaded death. The emperor in his palace was perhaps the most pitiable object which could be found in all his realms. He tossed upon his pillow, the victim of remorse and despair, now condemning himself for his cruel treatment of his brother Rhodolph, now inveighing bitterly against the inhumanity and arrogance of Ferdinand and Maximilian. On the 20th of March, 1619, the despairing spirit of the emperor passed away to the tribunal of the "King of kings and the Lord of lords."



CHAPTER XVI.

FERDINAND II.

From 1619 to 1621.

Possessions of the Emperor.—Power of the Protestants of Bohemia.—General Spirit of Insurrection.—Anxiety of Ferdinand.— Insurrection led by Count Thurn.—Unpopularity of the Emperor.— Affecting Declaration of the Emperor.—Insurrection in Vienna.—The Arrival of Succor.—Ferdinand seeks the imperial Throne.—Repudiated by Bohemia.—The Palatinate.—Frederic offered the Crown of Bohemia.— Frederic crowned.—Revolt in Hungary.—Desperate Condition of the Emperor.—Catholic League.—The Calvinists and the Puritans.—Duplicity of the Emperor.—Foreign Combinations.—Truce between the Catholics and the Protestants.—The Attack upon Bohemia.—Battle of the White Mountain.

Ferdinand, who now ascended the throne by right of the coronation he had already received, was in the prime of life, being but forty-one years of age, and was in possession of a rare accumulation of dignities. He was Archduke of Austria, King of Hungary and of Bohemia, Duke of Styria, Carinthia and Carniola, and held joint possession, with his two brothers, of the spacious territory of the Tyrol. Thus all these wide-spread and powerful territories, with different languages, different laws, and diverse manners and customs, were united under the Austrian monarchy, which was now undeniably one of the leading powers of Europe. In addition to all these titles and possessions, he was a prominent candidate for the imperial crown of Germany. To secure this additional dignity he could rely upon his own family influence, which was very powerful, and also upon the aid of the Spanish monarchy. When we contemplate his accession in this light, he appears as one of the most powerful monarchs who ever ascended a throne.

But there is another side to the picture. The spirit of rebellion against his authority had spread through nearly all his territories, and he had neither State nor kingdom where his power seemed stable. In whatever direction he turned his eyes, he saw either the gleam of hostile arms or the people in a tumult just ready to combine against him.

The Protestants of Bohemia had much to encourage them. All the kingdom, excepting one fortress, was in their possession. All the Protestants of the German empire had espoused their cause. The Silesians, Lusatians and Moravians were in open revolt. The Hungarian Protestants, animated by the success of the Bohemians, were eager to follow their example and throw off the yoke of Ferdinand. With iron tyranny he had silenced every Protestant voice in the Styrian provinces, and had crushed every semblance of religious liberty. But the successful example of the Bohemians had roused the Styrians, and they also were on the eve of making a bold move in defense of their rights. Even in Austria itself, and beneath the very shadow of the palaces of Vienna, conspiracies were rife, and insurrection was only checked by the presence of the army which had been driven out of Bohemia.

Even Ferdinand could not be blind to the difficulties which were accumulating upon him, and to the precarious tenure of his power. He saw the necessity of persevering in the attempt at conciliation which he had so reluctantly commenced. And yet, with strange infatuation, he proposed an accommodation in a manner which was deemed insulting, and which tended only to exasperate. The very day of his accession to the throne, he sent a commission to Prague, to propose a truce; but, instead of conferring with the Protestant leaders, he seemed to treat them with intentional contempt, by addressing his proposal to that very council of regency which had become so obnoxious. The Protestants, justly regarding this as an indication of the implacable state of his mind, and conscious that the proposed truce would only enable him more effectually to rally his forces, made no reply whatever to his proposals. Ferdinand, perceiving that he had made a great mistake, and that he had not rightly appreciated the spirit of his foes, humbled himself a little more, and made still another attempt at conciliation. But the Protestants had now resolved that Ferdinand should never be King of Bohemia. It had become an established tenet of the Catholic church that it is not necessary to keep faith with heretics. Whatever solemn promises Ferdinand might make, the pope would absolve him from all sin in violating them.

Count Thurn, with sixteen thousand men, marched into Moravia. The people rose simultaneously to greet him. He entered Brunn, the capital, in triumph. The revolution was immediate and entire. They abolished the Austrian government, established the Protestant worship, and organized a new government similar to that which they had instituted in Bohemia. Crossing the frontier, Count Thurn boldly entered Austria and, meeting no foe capable of retarding his steps, he pushed vigorously on even to the very gates of Vienna. As he had no heavy artillery capable of battering down the walls, and as he knew that he had many partisans within the walls of the city, he took possession of the suburbs, blockaded the town, and waited for the slow operation of a siege, hoping thus to be able to take the capital and the person of the sovereign without bloodshed.

Ferdinand had brought such trouble upon the country, that he was now almost as unpopular with the Catholics as with the Protestants, and all his appeals to them for aid were of but little avail. The sudden approach of Count Thurn had amazed and discomfited him, and he knew not in what direction to look for aid. Cooped up in his capital, he could hold no communication with foreign powers, and his own subjects manifested no disposition to come to his rescue. The evidences of popular discontent, even in the city, were every hour becoming more manifest, and the unhappy sovereign was in hourly expectation of an insurrection in the streets.

The surrender of Vienna involved the loss of Austria. With the loss of Austria vanished all hopes of the imperial crown. Bohemia, Austria, and the German scepter gone, Hungary would soon follow; and then, his own Styrian territories, sustained and aided by their successful neighbors, would speedily discard his sway. Ferdinand saw it all clearly, and was in an agony of despair. He has confided to his confessor the emotions which, in those terrible hours, agitated his soul. It is affecting to read the declaration, indicative as it is that the most cruel and perfidious man may be sincere and even conscientious in his cruelty and crime. To his Jesuitical confessor, Bartholomew Valerius, he said,

"I have reflected on the dangers which threaten me and my family, both at home and abroad. With an enemy in the suburbs, sensible that the Protestants are plotting my ruin, I implore that help from God which I can not expect from man. I had recourse to my Saviour, and said, 'Lord Jesus Christ, Thou Redeemer of mankind, Thou to whom all hearts are opened, Thou knowest that I seek Thy honor, not my own. If it be Thy will, that, in this extremity, I should be overcome by thy enemies, and be made the sport and contempt of the world, I will drink of the bitter cup. Thy will be done.' I had hardly spoken these words before I was inspired with new hope, and felt a full conviction that God would frustrate the designs of my enemies."

Nerved by such a spirit, Ferdinand was prepared to endure all things rather than yield the slightest point. Hour after hour his situation became more desperate, and still he remained inflexible. Balls from the batteries of Count Thurn struck even the walls of his palace; murmurs filled the streets, and menaces rose to his ears from beneath his windows. "Let us put his evil counselors to the sword," the disaffected exclaimed; "shut him up in a convent; and educate his children in the Protestant religion."

At length the crisis had apparently arrived. Insurrection was organized. Clamorous bands surged through the streets, and there was a state of tumult which no police force could quell. A band of armed men burst into the palace, forced their way into the presence of Ferdinand, and demanded the surrender of the city. At that moment, when Ferdinand might well have been in despair, the unexpected sound of trumpets was heard in the streets, and the tramp of a squadron of cavalry. The king was as much amazed as were the insurgents. The deputies, not knowing what it meant, in great alarm retreated from the palace. The squadron swept the streets, and surrounded the palace. They had been sent to the city by the general who had command of the Austrian forces, and, arriving at full speed, had entered unexpectedly at the only gate which the besiegers had not guarded.

Their arrival, as if by heavenly commission, and the tidings they brought of other succor near at hand, reanimated the king and his partisans, and instantly the whole aspect of things within the city was changed. Six hundred students in the Roman Catholic institutions of the city flew to arms, and organized themselves as a body-guard of the king. All the zealous Catholics formed themselves into military bands, and this encouraged that numerous neutral party, always existing in such seasons of uncertainty, ready to join those who shall prove to be the strongest. The Protestants fled from the city, and sought protection under the banners of Count Thurn.

In the meantime the Catholics in Bohemia, taking advantage of the absence of Count Thurn with his troops, had surrounded Prague, and were demanding its capitulation. This rendered it necessary for the Bohemian army immediately to strike their tents and return to Bohemia. Never was there a more sudden and perfect deliverance. It was, however, deliverance only from the momentary peril. The great elements of discontent and conflict remained unchanged.

It was very evident that the difficulties which Ferdinand had to encounter in his Austrian dominions, were so immense that he could not hope to surmount them without foreign aid. He consequently deemed it a matter important above all others to secure the imperial throne. Without this strength the loss of all his Austrian possessions was inevitable. With the influence and the power which the crown of Germany would confer upon him he could hope to gain all. Ferdinand immediately left Vienna and visited the most influential of the German princes to secure their support for his election. The Catholics all over Germany, alarmed by the vigor and energy which had been displayed by the Protestants, laid aside their several preferences, and gradually all united upon Ferdinand. The Protestants, foolishly allowing their Lutheran and Calvinistic differences to disunite them, could not agree in their candidate. Consequently Ferdinand was elected, and immediately crowned emperor, the 9th of September, 1619.

The Bohemians, however, remained firm in their resolve to repudiate him utterly as their king. They summoned a diet of the States of Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia and Lusatia to meet at Prague. Delegates also attended the diet from Upper and Lower Austria, as also many nobles from distant Hungary. The diet drew up a very formidable list of grievances, and declared, in view of them, that Ferdinand had forfeited all right to the crown of Bohemia, and that consequently it was their duty, in accordance with the ancient usages, to proceed to the election of a sovereign. The Catholics were now so entirely in the minority in Bohemia that the Protestants held the undisputed control. They first chose the Elector of Saxony. He, conscious that he could maintain his post only by a long and uncertain war, declined the perilous dignity. They then with great unanimity elected Frederic, the Elector of Palatine.

The Palatinate was a territory bordering on Bohemia, of over four thousand square miles, and contained nearly seven hundred thousand inhabitants. The elector, Frederic V., was thus a prince of no small power in his own right. He had married a daughter of James I. of England, and had many powerful relatives. Frederic was an affable, accomplished, kind-hearted man, quite ambitious, and with but little force of character. He was much pleased at the idea of being elevated to the dignity of a king, and was yet not a little appalled in contemplating the dangers which it was manifest he must encounter. His mother, with maternal solicitude, trembling for her son, intreated him not to accept the perilous crown. His father-in-law, James, remonstrated against it, sternly declaring that he would never patronize subjects in rebellion against their sovereign, that he would never acknowledge Frederic's title as king, or render him, under any circumstances, either sympathy or support. On the other hand the members of the Protestant league urged his acceptance; his uncles united strongly with them in recommending it, and above all, his fascinating wife, whom he dotingly loved, and who, delighted at the idea of being a queen, threw herself into his arms, and plead in those persuasive tones which the pliant heart of Frederic could not resist. The Protestant clergy, also, in a strong delegation waited upon him, and intreated him in the name of that Providence which had apparently proffered to him the crown, to accept it in fidelity to himself, to his country and to the true religion.

The trembling hand and the tearful eye with which Frederic accepted the crown, proved his incapacity to bear the burden in those stormy days. Placing the government of the Palatinate in the hands of the Duke of Deux Ponts, he repaired, with his family, to Prague. A rejoicing multitude met him at several leagues from the capital, and escorted him to the city with an unwonted display of popular enthusiasm. He was crowned with splendor such as Bohemia had never witnessed before.

For a time the Bohemians surrendered themselves to the most extravagant joy. Frederic was exceedingly amiable, and just the prince to win, in calm and sunny days, the enthusiastic admiration of his subjects. They were highly gratified in having the King of Bohemia dwell in his own capital at Prague, a privilege and honor which they had seldom enjoyed. Many of the German princes acknowledged Frederic's title, as did also Sweden, Denmark, Holland and Vienna. The revolution in Bohemia was apparently consummated, and to the ordinary observer no cloud could be seen darkening the horizon.

The Bohemians were strengthened in their sense of security by a similar revolution which was taking place in Hungary. As soon as Ferdinand left Vienna, to seek the crown of Germany, the Protestants of Hungary threw off their allegiance to Austria, and rallied around the banners of their bold, indomitable leader, Gabriel Bethlehem. They fell upon the imperial forces with resistless fury and speedily dispersed them. Having captured several of the most important fortresses, and having many troops to spare, Gabriel Bethlehem sent eighteen thousand men into Moravia to aid Count Thurn to disperse the imperial forces there. He then marched triumphantly to Presburg, the renowned capital of Hungary, within thirty miles of Vienna, where he was received by the majority of the inhabitants with open arms. He took possession of the sacred crown and of the crown jewels, called an assembly of the nobles from the various States of Hungary and Transylvania, and united them in a firm band against Ferdinand. He now marched up the banks of the Danube into Austria. Count Thurn advanced from Moravia to meet him. The junction of their forces placed the two leaders in command of sixty thousand men. They followed along the left bank of the majestic Danube until they arrived opposite Vienna. Here they found eighteen thousand troops posted to oppose. After a short conflict, the imperial troops retreated from behind their intrenchments across the river, and blew up the bridge.

In such a deplorable condition did the Emperor Ferdinand find his affairs, as he returned from Germany to Austria. He was apparently in a desperate position, and no human sagacity could foresee how he could retrieve his fallen fortunes. Apparently, could his despotic arm then have been broken, Europe might have been spared many years of war and woe. But the designs of Providence are inscrutable. Again there was apparently almost miraculous interposition. The imperial troops were rapidly concentrated in the vicinity of Vienna, to prevent the passage of the broad, deep and rapid river by the allied army. A strong force was dispatched down the right bank of the Danube, which attacked and dispersed a force left to protect the communication with Hungary. The season was far advanced, and it was intensely cold in those northern latitudes. The allied army had been collected so suddenly, that no suitable provision had been made for feeding so vast a host. Famine added its terrors to the cold blasts which menacingly swept the plains, and as there was imminent danger that the imperial army might cut off entirely the communication of the allies with Hungary, Gabriel Bethlehem decided to relinquish the enterprise of taking Vienna, and retired unimpeded to Presburg. Almost every fortress in Hungary was now in the possession of the Hungarians, and Ferdinand, though his capital was released, saw that Hungary as well as Bohemia had escaped from his hands. At Presburg Gabriel was, with imposing ceremonies, proclaimed King of Hungary, and a decree of proscription and banishment was issued against all the adherents of Ferdinand.

Germany was now divided into two great leagues, the Catholic and the Protestant. Though nominally religious parties, they were political as well as religious, and subject to all the fluctuations and corruptions attending such combinations. The Protestant league, composed of princes of every degree of dignity, who came from all parts of Germany, proudly mounted and armed, and attended by armed retainers, from a few score to many hundreds or even thousands, met at Nuremburg. It was one of the most influential and imposing assemblages which had ever gathered in Europe. The Catholics, with no less display of pomp and power, for their league embraced many of the haughtiest sovereigns in Europe, met at Wurtzburg. There were, of course, not a few who were entirely indifferent as to the religious questions involved, and who were Catholics or Protestants, in subserviency to the dictates of interest or ambition. Both parties contended with the arts of diplomacy as well as with those of war. The Spanish court was preparing a powerful armament to send from the Netherlands to the help of Ferdinand. The Protestants sent an army to Ulm to watch their movements, and to cut them off.

Ferdinand was as energetic as he had previously proved himself inflexible and persevering. In person he visited Munich, the capital of Bavaria, that he might more warmly interest in his favor Maximilian, the illustrious and warlike duke. The emperor made him brilliant promises, and secured his cordial cooeperation. The Duke of Bavaria, and the Elector of the Palatinate, were neighbors and rivals; and the emperor offered Maximilian the spoils of the Palatinate, if they should be successful in their warfare against the newly elected Bohemian king. Maximilian, thus persuaded, placed all his force at the disposal of the emperor.

The Elector of Saxony was a Lutheran; the Elector Palatine a Calvinist. The Lutherans believed, that after the consecration of the bread and wine at the sacramental table, the body and blood of Christ were spiritually present with that bread and wine. This doctrine, which they called consubstantiation, they adopted in antagonism to the papal doctrine of transubstantiation, which was that the bread and wine were actually transformed into, and became the real body and blood of Christ.

The difference between the Calvinists and the Lutherans, as we have before mentioned, was that, while the former considered the bread and wine in the sacraments as representing the body and the blood of Christ, the latter considered the body and the blood as spiritually present in the consecrated elements. This trivial difference divided brethren who were agreed upon all the great points of Christian faith, duty and obligation. It is melancholy, and yet instructive to observe, through the course of history, how large a proportion of the energies of Christians have been absorbed in contentions against each other upon shadowy points of doctrine, while a world has been perishing in wickedness. The most efficient men in the Church on earth, have had about one half of their energies paralyzed by contentions with their own Christian brethren. It is so now. The most energetic men, in pleading the cause of Christ, are often assailed even more unrelentingly by brethren who differ with them upon some small point of doctrine, than by a hostile world.

Human nature, even when partially sanctified, is frail indeed. The Elector of Saxony was perhaps a good man, but he was a weak one. He was a zealous Lutheran, and was shocked that a Calvinist, a man who held the destructive error that the bread and wine only represented the body and the blood of Christ, should be raised to the throne of Bohemia, and thus become the leader of the Protestant party. The Elector of Saxony and the Elector of the Palatine had also been naturally rivals, as neighbors, and possessors of about equal rank and power. Though the Calvinists, to conciliate the Lutherans, had offered the throne to the Elector of Saxony, and he had declined it, as too perilous a post for him to occupy, still he was weakly jealous of his rival who had assumed that post, and was thus elevated above him to the kingly dignity.

Ferdinand understood all this, and shrewdly availed himself of it. He plied the elector with arguments and promises, assuring him that the points in dispute were political merely and not religious; that he had no intention of opposing the Protestant religion, and that if the elector would abandon the Protestant league, he would reward him with a large accession of territory. It seems incredible that the Elector of Saxony could have been influenced by such representations. But so it was. Averring that he could not in conscience uphold a man who did not embrace the vital doctrine of the spiritual presence, he abandoned his Protestant brethren, and drew with him the Landgrave of Hesse, and several other Lutheran princes. This was a very serious defection, which disheartened the Protestants as much as it encouraged Ferdinand.

The wily emperor having succeeded so admirably with the Protestant elector, now turned to the Roman Catholic court of France—that infamous court, still crimsoned with the blood of the St. Bartholomew massacre. Then, with diplomatic tergiversation, he represented that the conflict was not a political one, but purely religious, involving the interests of the Church. He urged that the peace of France and of Europe required that the Protestant heresy should be utterly effaced; and he provoked the resentment of the court by showing how much aid the Protestants in Europe had ever received from the Palatinate family. Here again he was completely successful, and the young king, Louis XIII., who was controlled by his bigoted yet powerful minister, the Duke of Luines, cordially espoused his cause.

Spain, intolerant, despotic, hating Protestantism with perfect hatred, was eager with its aid. A well furnished army of twenty-four thousand men was sent from the Netherlands, and also a large sum of money was placed in the treasury of Ferdinand. Even the British monarch, notwithstanding the clamors of the nation, was maneuvered into neutrality. And most surprising of all, Ferdinand was successful in securing a truce with Gabriel Bethlehem, which, though it conferred peace upon Hungary, deprived the Bohemians of their powerful support.

The Protestants were strong in their combination; but still it was a power of fearful strength now arrayed against them. It was evident that Europe was on the eve of a long and terrible struggle. The two forces began to assemble. The Protestants rendezvoused at Ulm, under the command of the Margrave of Anspach. The Catholic troops, from their wide dispersion, were concentrating at Guntzburg, to be led by the Duke of Bavaria. The attention of all Europe was arrested by these immense gatherings. All hearts were oppressed with solicitude, for the parties were very equally matched, and results of most momentous importance were dependent upon the issue.

In this state of affairs the Protestant league, which extended through Europe, entered into a truce with the Catholic league, which also extended through Europe, that they should both withdraw from the contest, leaving Ferdinand and the Bohemians to settle the dispute as they best could. This seemed very much to narrow the field of strife, but the measure, in its practical results, was far more favorable to Ferdinand than to the Bohemians. The emperor thus disembarrassed, by important concessions, and by menaces, brought the Protestants of Lower Austria into submission. The masses, overawed by a show of power which they could not resist, yielded; the few who refused to bow in homage to the emperor were punished as guilty of treason.

Ferdinand, by these cautious steps, was now prepared to concentrate his energies upon Bohemia. He first attacked the dependent provinces of Bohemia, one by one, sending an army of twenty-five thousand men to take them unprepared. Having subjected all of Upper Austria to his sway, with fifty thousand men he entered Bohemia. Their march was energetic and sanguinary. With such an overpowering force they took fortress after fortress, scaling ramparts, mercilessly cutting down garrisons, plundering and burning towns, and massacreing the inhabitants. Neither sex nor age was spared, and a brutal soldiery gratified their passions in the perpetration of indescribable horrors. Even the Duke of Bavaria was shocked at such barbarities, and entered his remonstrances against them. Many large towns, terrified by the atrocities perpetrated upon those who resisted the imperial arms, threw open their gates, hoping thus, by submission, to appease the vengeance of the conqueror.

Frederic was a weak man, not at all capable of encountering such a storm, and the Bohemians had consequently no one to rally and to guide them with efficiency. His situation was now alarming in the extreme. He was abandoned by the Protestant league, hemmed in on every side by the imperial troops, and his hereditary domains of the Palatinate were overrun by twenty thousand Spaniards. His subjects, alarmed at his utter inefficiency, and terrified by the calamities which were falling, like avalanche after avalanche upon them, became dissatisfied with him, and despairing respecting their own fate. He was a Calvinist, and the Lutherans had never warmly received him. The impotent monarch, instead of establishing himself in the affections of his subjects, by vigorously driving the invaders from his realms, with almost inconceivable silliness endeavored to win their popularity by balls and smiles, pleasant words and masquerades. In fact, Frederic, by his utter inefficiency, was a foe more to be dreaded by Bohemia than Ferdinand.

The armies of the emperor pressed on, throwing the whole kingdom into a state of consternation and dismay. The army of Frederic, which dared not emerge from its intrenchments at Pritznitz, about fifty miles south of Prague, consisted of but twenty-two thousand men, poorly armed, badly clothed, wretchedly supplied with military stores, and almost in a state of mutiny from arrears of pay. The generals were in perplexity and disagreement. Some, in the recklessness of despair, were for marching to meet the foe and to risk a battle; others were for avoiding a conflict, and thus protracting the war till the severity of winter should drive their enemies from the field, when they would have some time to prepare for another year's campaign. These difficulties led Frederic to apply for a truce. But Ferdinand was too wise to lose by wasting time in negotiations, vantage ground he had already gained. He refused to listen to any word except the unequivocal declaration that Frederic relinquished all right to the crown. Pressing his forces onward, he drove the Bohemians from behind their ramparts at Pritznitz, and pursued them down the Moldau even to the walls of Prague.

Upon a magnificent eminence called the White Mountain, which commanded the city and its most important approaches, the disheartened army of Frederic stopped in its flight, and made its last stand. The enemy were in hot pursuit. The Bohemians in breathless haste began to throw up intrenchments along the ravines, and to plant their batteries on the hills, when the banners of Ferdinand were seen approaching. The emperor was too energetic a warrior to allow his panic-stricken foes time to regain their courage. Without an hour's delay he urged his victorious columns to the charge. The Bohemians fought desperately, with far more spirit than could have been expected. But they were overpowered by numbers, and in one short hour the army of Frederic was annihilated. Four thousand were left dead upon the field, one thousand were drowned in the frantic attempt to swim the Moldau, and the rest were either dispersed as fugitives over hill and valley or taken captive. The victory of the emperor was complete, the hopes of Frederic crushed, and the fate of Bohemia sealed.

The contemptible Frederic, while this fierce battle was raging beneath the very walls of his capital, instead of placing himself at the head of his troops, was in the heart of the city, in the banqueting-hall of his palace, bowing and smiling and feasting his friends. The Prince of Anhalt, who was in command of the Bohemian army, had sent a most urgent message to the king, intreating him to dispatch immediately to his aid all the troops in the city, and especially to repair himself to the camp to encourage the troops by his presence. Frederic was at the table when he received this message, and sent word back that he could not come until after dinner. As soon as the combat commenced, another still more urgent message was sent, to which he returned the same reply. After dinner he mounted his horse and rode to the gate which led to the White Mountain. The thunders of the terrible battle filled the air; the whole city was in the wildest state of terror and confusion; the gates barred and barricaded. Even the king could not get out. He climbed one of the towers of the wall and looked out upon the gory field, strewn with corpses, where his army had been, but was no more. He returned hastily to his palace, and met there the Prince of Anhalt, who, with a few fugitives, had succeeded in entering the city by one of the gates.

The city now could not defend itself for an hour. The batteries of Ferdinand were beginning to play upon the walls, when Frederic sent out a flag of truce soliciting a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, that they might negotiate respecting peace. The peremptory reply returned was, that there should not be truce for a single moment, unless Frederic would renounce all pretension to the crown of Bohemia. With such a renunciation truce would be granted for eight hours. Frederic acceded to the demand, and the noise of war was hushed.



CHAPTER XVII.

FERDINAND II.

From 1621 to 1629.

Pusillanimity of Frederic.—Intreaties of the Citizens of Prague.—Shameful Flight of Frederic.—Vengeance Inflicted Upon Bohemia.—Protestantism and Civil Freedom.—Vast Power of the Emperor.—Alarm of Europe.—James I.—Treaty of Marriage for the Prince of Wales.—Cardinal Richelieu.—New League of the Protestants.— Desolating War.—Defeat of the King of Denmark.—Energy of Wallenstein.—Triumph of Ferdinand.—New Acts of Intolerance.— Severities in Bohemia.—Desolation of the Kingdom.—Dissatisfaction of the Duke of Bavaria.—Meeting of the Catholic Princes.—The Emperor Humbled.

The citizens of Prague were indignant at the pusillanimity of Frederic. In a body they repaired to the palace and tried to rouse his feeble spirits. They urged him to adopt a manly resistance, and offered to mount the ramparts and beat off the foe until succor could arrive. But Frederic told them that he had resolved to leave Prague, that he should escape during the darkness of the night, and advised them to capitulate on the most favorable terms they could obtain. The inhabitants of the city were in despair. They knew that they had nothing to hope from the clemency of the conqueror, and that there was no salvation for them from irretrievable ruin but in the most desperate warfare. Even now, though the enemy was at their gates, their situation was by no means hopeless with a leader of any energy.

"We have still," they urged, "sufficient strength to withstand a siege. The city is not invested on every side, and reinforcements can enter by some of the gates. We have ample means in the city to support all the troops which can be assembled within its walls. The soldiers who have escaped from the disastrous battle need but to see the Bohemian banners again unfurled and to hear the blast of the bugle, to return to their ranks. Eight thousand troops are within a few hours' march of us. There is another strong band in the rear of the enemy, prepared to cut off their communications. Several strong fortresses, filled with arms and ammunition, are still in our possession, and the Bohemians, animated by the remembrance of the heroic deeds of their ancestors, are eager to retrieve their fortunes."

Had Frederic possessed a tithe of the perseverance and energy of Ferdinand, with these resources he might soon have arrested the steps of the conqueror. Never was the characteristic remark of Napoleon to Ney better verified, that "an army of deer led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a deer." Frederic was panic-stricken for fear he might fall into the hands of Ferdinand, from whom he well knew that he was to expect no mercy. With ignominious haste, abandoning every thing, even the coronation regalia, at midnight, surrounded by a few friends, he stole out at one of the gates of the city, and putting spurs to his horse, allowed himself no rest until he was safe within the walls of Berlin, two hundred miles from Prague.

The despairing citizens, thus deserted by their sovereign, and with a victorious foe at their very walls, had no alternative but to throw open their gates and submit to the mercy of the conqueror. The next day the whole imperial army, under the Duke of Bavaria, with floating banners and exultant music, entered the streets of the capital, and took possession of the palaces. The tyrant Ferdinand was as vengeful and venomous as he was vigorous and unyielding. The city was immediately disarmed, and the government intrusted to a vigorous Roman Catholic prince, Charles of Lichtenstein. A strong garrison was left in the city to crush, with a bloody hand, any indications of insurrection, and then the Duke of Bavaria returned with most of his army to Munich, his capital, tottering beneath the burden of plunder.

There was a moment's lull before the tempest of imperial wrath burst upon doomed Bohemia. Ferdinand seemed to deliberate, and gather his strength, that he might strike a blow which would be felt forever. He did strike such a blow—one which has been remembered for two hundred years, and which will not be forgotten for ages to come—one which doomed parents and children to weary years of vagabondage, penury and woe which must have made life a burden.

On the night of the 21st of January, three months after the capitulation, and when the inhabitants of Prague had begun to hope that there might, after all, be some mercy in the bosom of Ferdinand, forty of the leading citizens of the place were simultaneously arrested. They were torn from their families and thrown into dungeons where they were kept in terrific suspense for four months. They were then brought before an imperial commission and condemned as guilty of high treason. All their property was confiscated, nothing whatever being left for their helpless families. Twenty-three were immediately executed upon the scaffold, and all the rest were either consigned to life-long imprisonment, or driven into banishment. Twenty-seven other nobles, who had escaped from the kingdom, were declared traitors. Their castles were seized, their property confiscated and presented as rewards to Roman Catholic nobles who were the friends of Ferdinand. An order was then issued for all the nobles and landholders throughout the kingdom to send in a confession of whatever aid they had rendered, or encouragement they had given to the insurrection. And the most terrible vengeance was threatened against any one who should afterward be proved guilty of any act whatever of which he had not made confession. The consternation which this decree excited was so great, that not only was every one anxious to confess the slightest act which could be construed as unfriendly to the emperor, but many, in their terror, were driven to accuse themselves of guilt, who had taken no share in the movement. Seven hundred nobles, and the whole body of Protestant landholders, placed their names on the list of those who confessed guilt and implored pardon.

The fiend-like emperor, then, in the mockery of mercy, declared that in view of his great clemency and their humble confession, he would spare their forfeited lives, and would only punish them by depriving them of their estates. He took their mansions, their estates, their property, and turned them adrift upon the world, with their wives and their children, fugitives and penniless. Thus between one and two thousand of the most ancient and noble families of the kingdom were rendered houseless and utterly beggared. Their friends, involved with them in the same woe, could render no assistance. They were denounced as traitors; no one dared befriend them, and their possessions were given to those who had rallied beneath the banners of the emperor. "To the victors belong the spoils." No pen can describe the ruin of these ancient families. No imagination can follow them in their steps of starvation and despair, until death came to their relief.

Ferdinand considered Protestantism and rebellion as synonymous terms. And well he might, for Protestantism has ever been arrayed as firmly against civil as against religious despotism. The doctrines of the reformers, from the days of Luther and Calvin, have always been associated with political liberty. Ferdinand was determined to crush Protestantism. The punishment of the Elector Palatine was to be a signal and an appalling warning to all who in future should think of disputing the imperial sway. The elector himself, having renounced the throne, had escaped beyond the emperor's reach. But Ferdinand took possession of his ancestral territories and divided them among his Roman Catholic allies. The electoral vote which he held in the diet of the empire, Ferdinand transferred to the Duke of Bavaria, thus reducing the Protestant vote to two, and securing an additional Catholic suffrage. The ban of the empire was also published against the Prince of Anhalt, the Count of Hohenloe, and the Duke Jaegendorf, who had been supporters of Frederic. This ban of the empire deprived them of their territories, of their rank, and of their possessions.

The Protestants throughout the empire were terrified by these fierce acts of vengeance, and were fearful of sharing the same fate. They now regretted bitterly that they had disbanded their organization. They dared not make any move against the emperor, who was flushed with pride and power, lest he should pounce at once upon them. The emperor consequently marched unimpeded in his stern chastisements. Frederic was thus deserted entirely by the Protestant union; and his father-in-law, James of England, in accordance with his threat, refused to lend him any aid. Various most heroic efforts were made by a few intrepid nobles but one after another they were crushed by the iron hand of the emperor.

Ferdinand, having thus triumphed over all his foes, and having divided their domains among his own followers, called a meeting of the electors who were devoted to his cause, at Ratisbon, on the 25th of February, 1623, to confirm what he had done. In every portion of the empire, where the arm of the emperor could reach them, the Protestants were receiving heavy blows. They were now thoroughly alarmed and aroused. The Catholics all over Europe were renewing their league; all the Catholic powers were banded together, and Protestantism seemed on the eve of being destroyed by the sword of persecution.

Other parts of Europe also began to look with alarm upon the vast power acquired by Austria. There was but little of conciliation in the character of Ferdinand, and his unbounded success, while it rendered him more haughty, excited also the jealousy of the neighboring powers. In Lower Saxony, nearly all the nobles and men of influence were Protestants. The principal portion of the ecclesiastical property was in their hands. It was very evident that unless the despotism of Ferdinand was checked, he would soon wrest from them their titles and possessions, and none the less readily because he had succeeded in bribing the Elector of Saxony to remain neutral while he tore the crown of Bohemia from the Elector of the Palatine, and despoiled him of his wide-spread ancestral territories.

James I. of England had been negotiating a marriage of his son, the Prince of Wales, subsequently Charles I., with the daughter of the King of Spain. This would have been, in that day, a brilliant match for his son; and as the Spanish monarch was a member of the house of Austria, and a cooeperator with his cousin, the Emperor Ferdinand, in all his measures in Germany, it was an additional reason why James should not interfere in defense of his son-in-law, Frederic of the Palatine. But now this match was broken off by the influence of the haughty English minister Buckingham, who had the complete control of the feeble mind of the British monarch. A treaty of marriage was soon concluded between the Prince of Wales and Henrietta, a princess of France. There was hereditary hostility between France and Spain, and both England and France were now quite willing to humble the house of Austria. The nobles of Lower Saxony availed themselves of this new turn in the posture of affairs, and obtained promises of aid from them both, and, through their intercession, aid also from Denmark and Sweden.

Richelieu, the imperious French minister, was embarrassed by two antagonistic passions. He was eager to humble the house of Austria; and this he could only do by lending aid to the Protestants. On the other hand, it was the great object of his ambition to restore the royal authority to unlimited power, and this he could only accomplish by aiding the house of Austria to crush the Protestants, whose love of freedom all despots have abhorred. Impelled by these conflicting passions, he did all in his power to extirpate Protestantism from France, while he omitted neither lures nor intrigues to urge the Protestants in Germany to rise against the despotism of Austria. Gustavus Adolphus, of Sweden, was personally inimical to Ferdinand, in consequence of injuries he had received at his hands. Christian IV. of Denmark was cousin to Elizabeth, the mother of Frederic, and, in addition to this interest in the conflict which relationship gave him, he was also trembling lest some of his own possessions should soon be wrested from him by the all-grasping emperor. A year was employed, the year 1624, in innumerable secret intrigues, and plans of combination, for a general rising of the Protestant powers. It was necessary that the utmost secrecy should be observed in forming the coalition, and that all should be ready, at the same moment, to cooperate against a foe so able, so determined and so powerful.

Matters being thus essentially arranged, the States of Lower Saxony, who were to take the lead, held a meeting at Segeberg on the 25th of March, 1625. They formed a league for the preservation of their religion and liberties, settled the amount of money and men which each of the contracting parties was to furnish, and chose Christian IV., King of Denmark, their leader. The emperor had for some time suspected that a confederacy was in the process of formation, and had kept a watchful eye upon every movement. The vail was now laid aside, and Christian IV. issued a proclamation, stating the reasons why they had taken up arms against the emperor. This was the signal for a blaze of war, which wrapped all northern Europe in a wide conflagration. Victory ebbed and flowed. Bohemia, Hungary, Denmark, Austria—all the States of the empire, were swept and devastated by pursuing and retreating armies. But gradually the emperor gained. First he overwhelmed all opposition in Lower Saxony, and riveting anew the shackles of despotism, rewarded his followers with the spoils of the vanquished. Then he silenced every murmur in Austria, so that no foe dared lift up the voice or peep. Then he poured his legions into Hungary, swept back the tide of victory which had been following the Hungarian banners, and struck blow after blow, until Gabriel Bethlehem was compelled to cry for peace and mercy. Bohemia, previously disarmed and impoverished, was speedily struck down.

And now the emperor turned his energies against the panic-stricken King of Denmark. He pursued him from fortress to fortress; attacked him in the open field, and beat him; attacked him behind his intrenchments, and drove him from them through the valleys, and over the hills, across rivers, and into forests; bombarded his cities, plundered his provinces, shot down his subjects, till the king, reduced almost to the last extremity, implored peace. The emperor repelled his advances with scorn, demanding conditions of debasement more to be dreaded than death. The King of Denmark fled to the isles of the Baltic. Ferdinand took possession of the shores of this northern sea, and immediately commenced with vigor creating a fleet, that he might have sea as well as land forces, that he might pursue the Danish monarch over the water, and that he might more effectually punish Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. He had determined to dethrone this monarch, and to transfer the crown of Sweden to Sigismond, his brother-in-law, King of Poland, who was almost as zealous a Roman Catholic as was the emperor himself.

He drove the two Dukes of Mecklenburg from their territory, and gave the rich and beautiful duchy, extending along the south-eastern shore of the Baltic, to his renowned general, Wallenstein. This fierce, ambitious warrior was made generalissimo of all the imperial troops by land, and admiral of the Baltic sea. Ferdinand took possession of all the ports, from the mouth of the Keil, to Kolberg, at the mouth of the Persante. Wismar, on the magnificent bay bearing the same name, was made the great naval depot; and, by building, buying, hiring and robbing, the emperor soon collected quite a formidable fleet. The immense duchy of Pomerania was just north-east of Mecklenburg, extending along the eastern shore of the Baltic sea some hundred and eighty miles, and about sixty miles in breadth. Though the duke had in no way displeased Ferdinand, the emperor grasped the magnificent duchy, and held it by the power of his resistless armies. Crossing a narrow arm of the sea, he took the rich and populous islands of Rugen and Usedom, and laid siege to the city of Stralsund, which almost commanded the Baltic sea.

The kings of Sweden and Denmark, appalled by the rapid strides of the imperial general, united all their strength to resist him. They threw a strong garrison into Stralsund, and sent the fleets of both kingdoms to aid in repelling the attack, and succeeded in baffling all the attempts of Wallenstein, and finally in driving him off, though he had boasted that "he would reduce Stralsund, even if it were bound to heaven with chains of adamant." Though frustrated in this attempt, the armies of Ferdinand had swept along so resistlessly, that the King of Denmark was ready to make almost any sacrifice for peace. A congress was accordingly held at Lubec in May, 1629, when peace was made; Ferdinand retaining a large portion of his conquests, and the King of Denmark engaging no longer to interfere in the affairs of the empire.

Ferdinand was now triumphant over all his foes. The Protestants throughout the empire were crushed, and all their allies vanquished. He now deemed himself omnipotent, and with wild ambition contemplated the utter extirpation of Protestantism, and the subjugation of nearly all of Europe to his sway. He formed the most intimate alliance with the branch of his house ruling over Spain, hoping that thus the house of Austria might be the arbiter of the fate of Europe. The condition of Europe at that time was peculiarly favorable for the designs of the emperor. Charles I. of England was struggling against that Parliament which soon deprived him both of his crown and his head. France was agitated, from the Rhine to the Pyrenees, by civil war, the Catholics striving to exterminate the Protestants. Insurrections in Turkey absorbed all the energies of the Ottoman court, leaving them no time to think of interfering with the affairs of Europe. The King of Denmark was humiliated and prostrate. Sweden was too far distant and too feeble to excite alarm. Sigismond of Poland was in intimate alliance with the emperor. Gabriel Bethlehem of Hungary was languishing on a bed of disease and pain, and only asked permission to die in peace.

The first step which the emperor now took was to revoke all the concessions which had been granted to the Protestants. In Upper Austria, where he felt especially strong, he abolished the Protestant worship utterly. In Lower Austria he was slightly embarrassed by engagements which he had so solemnly made, and dared not trample upon them without some little show of moderation. First he prohibited the circulation of all Protestant books; he then annulled all baptisms and marriages performed by Protestants; then all Protestants were excluded from holding any civil or military office; then he issued a decree that all the children, without exception, should be educated by Catholic priests, and that every individual should attend Catholic worship. Thus coil by coil he wound around his subjects the chain of unrelenting intolerance.

In Bohemia he was especially severe, apparently delighting to punish those who had made a struggle for civil and religious liberty. Every school teacher, university professor and Christian minister, was ejected from office, and their places in schools, universities and churches were supplied by Catholic monks. No person was allowed to exercise any mechanical trade whatever, unless he professed the Roman Catholic faith. A very severe fine was inflicted upon any one who should be detected worshiping at any time, even in family prayer, according to the doctrines and customs of the Protestant church. Protestant marriages were pronounced illegal, their children illegitimate, their wills invalid. The Protestant poor were driven from the hospitals and the alms-houses. No Protestant was allowed to reside in the capital city of Prague, but, whatever his wealth or rank, he was driven ignominiously from the metropolis.

In the smaller towns and remote provinces of the kingdom, a military force, accompanied by Jesuits and Capuchin friars, sought out the Protestants, and they were exposed to every conceivable insult and indignity. Their houses were pillaged, their wives and children surrendered to all the outrages of a cruel soldiery; many were massacred; many, hunted like wild beasts, were driven into the forest; many were put to the torture, and as their bones were crushed and quivering nerves were torn, they were required to give in their adhesion to the Catholic faith. The persecution to which the Bohemians were subjected has perhaps never been exceeded in severity.

While Bohemia was writhing beneath these woes, the emperor, to secure the succession, repaired in regal pomp to Prague, and crowned his son King of Bohemia. He then issued a decree abolishing the right which the Bohemians had claimed, to elect their king, forbade the use of the Bohemian language in the court and in all public transactions, and annulled all past edicts of toleration. He proclaimed that no religion but the Roman Catholic should henceforth be tolerated in Bohemia, and that all who did not immediately return to the bosom of the Church should be banished from the kingdom. This cruel edict drove into banishment thirty thousand families. These Protestant families composed the best portion of the community, including the most illustrious in rank, the most intelligent, the most industrious and the most virtuous, No State could meet with such a loss without feeling it deeply, and Bohemia has never yet recovered from the blow. One of the Bohemian historians, himself a Roman Catholic, thus describes the change which persecution wrought in Bohemia:

"The records of history scarcely furnish a similar example of such a change as Bohemia underwent during the reign of Ferdinand II. In 1620, the monks and a few of the nobility only excepted, the whole country was entirely Protestant. At the death of Ferdinand it was, in appearance at least, Catholic. Till the battle of the White Mountain the States enjoyed more exclusive privileges than the Parliament of England. They enacted laws, imposed taxes, contracted alliances, declared war and peace, and chose or confirmed their kings. But all these they now lost.

"Till this fatal period the Bohemians were daring, undaunted, enterprising, emulous of fame; now they have lost all their courage, their national pride, their enterprising spirit. Their courage lay buried in the White Mountain. Individuals still possessed personal valor, military ardor and a thirst of glory, but, blended with other nations, they resembled the waters of the Moldau which join those of the Elbe. These united streams bear ships, overflow lands and overturn rocks; yet the Elbe is only mentioned, and the Moldau forgotten.

"The Bohemian language, which had been used in all the courts of justice, and which was in high estimation among the nobles, fell into contempt. The German was introduced, became the general language among the nobles and citizens, and was used by the monks in their sermons. The inhabitants of the towns began to be ashamed of their native tongue, which was confined to the villages and called the language of peasants. The arts and sciences, so highly cultivated and esteemed under Rhodolph, sunk beyond recovery. During the period which immediately followed the banishment of the Protestants, Bohemia scarcely produced one man who became eminent in any branch of learning. The greater part of the schools were conducted by Jesuits and other monkish orders, and nothing taught therein but bad Latin.

"It can not be denied that several of the Jesuits were men of great learning and science; but their system was to keep the people in ignorance. Agreeably to this principle they gave their scholars only the rind, and kept to themselves the pulp of literature. With this view they traveled from town to town as missionaries, and went from house to house, examining all books, which the landlord was compelled under pain of eternal damnation to produce. The greater part they confiscated and burnt. They thus endeavored to extinguish the ancient literature of the country, labored to persuade the students that before the introduction of their order into Bohemia nothing but ignorance prevailed, and carefully concealed the learned labors and even the names of our ancestors."

Ferdinand, having thus bound Bohemia hand and foot, and having accomplished all his purpose in that kingdom, now endeavored, by cautious but very decisive steps, to expel Protestant doctrines from all parts of the German empire. Decree succeeded decree, depriving Protestants of their rights and conferring upon the Roman Catholics wealth and station. He had a powerful and triumphant standing army at his control, under the energetic and bigoted Wallenstein, ready and able to enforce his ordinances. No Protestant prince dared to make any show of resistance. All the church property was torn from the Protestants, and this vast sum, together with the confiscated territories of those Protestant princes or nobles who had ventured to resist the emperor, placed at his disposal a large fund from which to reward his followers. The emperor kept, however, a large portion of the spoils in his own hands for the enriching of his own family.

This state of things soon alarmed even the Catholics. The emperor was growing too powerful, and his power was bearing profusely its natural fruit of pride and arrogance. The army was insolent, trampling alike upon friend and foe. As there was no longer any war, the army had become merely the sword of the emperor to maintain his despotism. Wallenstein had become so essential to the emperor, and possessed such power at the head of the army, that he assumed all the air and state of a sovereign, and insulted the highest nobles and the most powerful bishops by his assumptions of superiority. The electors of the empire perceiving that the emperor was centralizing power in his own hands, and that they would soon become merely provincial governors, compelled to obey his laws and subject to his appointment and removal, began to whisper to each other their alarm.

The Duke of Bavaria was one of the most powerful princes of the German empire. He had been the rival of Count Wallenstein, and was now exceedingly annoyed by the arrogance of this haughty military chief. Wallenstein was the emperor's right arm of strength. Inflamed by as intense an ambition as ever burned in a human bosom, every thought and energy was devoted to self-aggrandizement. He had been educated a Protestant, but abandoned those views for the Catholic faith which opened a more alluring field to ambition. Sacrificing the passions of youth he married a widow, infirm and of advanced age, but of great wealth. The death of his wrinkled bride soon left him the vast property without incumbrance. He then entered into a matrimonial alliance which favored his political prospects, marrying Isabella, the daughter of Count Harruch, who was one of the emperor's greatest favorites.

When Ferdinand's fortunes were at a low ebb, and he knew not in which way to find either money or an army, Wallenstein offered to raise fifty thousand men at his own expense, to pay their wages, supply them with arms and all the munitions of war, and to call upon the emperor for no pecuniary assistance whatever, if the emperor would allow him to retain the plunder he could extort from the conquered. Upon this majestic scale Wallenstein planned to act the part of a highwayman. Ferdinand's necessities were so great that he gladly availed himself of this infamous offer. Wallenstein made money by the bargain. Wherever he marched he compelled the people to support his army, and to support it luxuriously. The emperor had now constituted him admiral of the Baltic fleet, and had conferred upon him the title of duke, with the splendid duchy of Mecklenburg, and the principality of Sagan in Silesia. His overbearing conduct and his enormous extortions—he having, in seven years, wrested from the German princes more than four hundred million of dollars—excited a general feeling of discontent, in which the powerful Duke of Bavaria took the lead.

Envy is a stronger passion than political religion. Zealous as the Duke of Bavaria had been in the cause of the papal church, he now forgot that church in his zeal to abase an arrogant and insulting rival. Richelieu, the prime minister of France, was eagerly watching for opportunities to humiliate the house of Austria, and he, with alacrity, met the advances of the Duke of Bavaria, and conspired with him to form a Catholic league, to check the ambition of Wallenstein, and to arrest the enormous strides of the emperor. With this object in view, a large number of the most powerful Catholic princes met at Heidelberg, in March, 1629, and passed resolutions soliciting Ferdinand to summon a diet of the German empire to take into consideration the evils occasioned by the army of Wallenstein, and to propose a remedy. The emperor had, in his arrogance, commanded the princes of the various States in the departments of Suabia and Franconia, to disband their troops. To this demand they returned the bold and spirited reply,

"Till we have received an indemnification, or a pledge for the payment of our expenses, we will neither disband a single soldier, nor relinquish a foot of territory, ecclesiastical or secular, demand it who will."

The emperor did not venture to disregard the request for him to summon a diet. Indeed he was anxious, on his own account, to convene the electors, for he wished to secure the election of his son to the throne of the empire, and he needed succors to aid him in the ambitious wars which he was waging in various and distant parts of Europe. The diet was assembled at Ratisbon: the emperor presided in person. As he had important favors to solicit, he assumed a very conciliatory tone. He expressed his regret that the troops had been guilty of such disorders, and promised immediate redress. He then, supposing that his promise would be an ample satisfaction, very graciously solicited of them the succession of the imperial throne for his son, and supplies for his army.

But the electors were not at all in a pliant mood. Some were resolved that, at all hazards, the imperial army, which threatened Germany, should be reduced, and that Wallenstein should be dismissed from the command. Others were equally determined that the crown of the empire should not descend to the son of Ferdinand. The Duke of Bavaria headed the party who would debase Wallenstein; and Cardinal Richelieu, with all the potent influences of intrigue and bribery at the command of the French court, was the soul of the party resolved to wrest the crown of the empire from the house of Austria. Richelieu sent two of the most accomplished diplomatists France could furnish, as ambassadors to the diet, who, while maintaining, as far as possible, the guise of friendship, were to do every thing in their power to thwart the election of Ferdinand's son. These were supplied with inexhaustible means for the purchase of votes, and were authorized to make any promises, however extravagant, which should be deemed essential for the attainment of their object.

Ferdinand, long accustomed to have his own way, was not anticipating any serious resistance. He was therefore amazed and confounded, when the diet returned to him, instead of their humble submission and congratulations, a long, detailed, emphatic remonstrance against the enormities perpetrated by the imperial army, and demanding the immediate reduction of the army, now one hundred and fifty thousand strong, and the dismission of Wallenstein, before they could proceed to any other business whatever. This bold stand animated the Protestant princes of the empire, and they began to be clamorous for their rights. Some of the Catholics even espoused their cause, warning Ferdinand that, unless he granted the Protestants some degree of toleration, they would seek redress by joining the enemies of the empire.

It would have been impossible to frame three demands more obnoxious to the emperor. To crush the Protestants had absorbed the energies of his life; and now that they were utterly prostrate, to lift them up and place them on their feet again, was an idea he could not endure. The imperial army had been his supple tool. By its instrumentality he had gained all his power, and by its energies alone he retained that power. To disband the army was to leave himself defenseless. Wallenstein had been every thing to the emperor, and Ferdinand still needed the support of his inflexible and unscrupulous energies. Wallenstein was in the cabinet of the emperor advising him in this hour of perplexity. His counsel was characteristic of his impetuous, headlong spirit. He advised the emperor to pour his army into the territory of the Duke of Bavaria; chastise him and all his associates for their insolence, and thus overawe the rest. But the Duke of Bavaria was in favor of electing the emperor's son as his successor on the throne of the empire; and Ferdinand's heart was fixed upon this object.

"Dismiss Wallenstein, and reduce the army," said the Duke of Bavaria, "and the Catholic electors will vote for your son; grant the required toleration to the Protestants, and they will vote for him likewise."

The emperor yielded, deciding in his own mind, aided by the Jesuitical suggestions of a monk, that he could afterwards recall Wallenstein, and assemble anew his dispersed battalions. He dismissed sixteen thousand of his best cavalry; suspended some of the most obnoxious edicts against the Protestants, and implored Wallenstein to resign his post. The emperor was terribly afraid that this proud general would refuse, and would lead the army to mutiny. The emperor accordingly accompanied his request with every expression of gratitude and regret, and assured the general of his continued favor. Wallenstein, well aware that the disgrace would be but temporary, quietly yielded. He dismissed the envoys of the emperor with presents, wrote a very submissive letter, and, with much ostentation of obedience, retired to private life.