The Diet of Ratisbon, to which the Protestants had looked forward with

the hope of obtaining a renewal of the Religious Peace, had broken

up without coming to a decision, and to the former grievances of the

Protestant party was now added the late oppression of Donauwerth. With

incredible speed, the union, so long attempted, was now brought to bear.

A conference took place at Anhausen, in Franconia, at which were

present the Elector Frederick IV., from the Palatinate, the Palsgrave

of Neuburg, two Margraves of Brandenburg, the Margrave of Baden, and the

Duke John Frederick of Wirtemburg, -- Lutherans as well as Calvinists,

-- who for themselves and their heirs entered into a close confederacy

under the title of the Evangelical Union. The purport of this union was,

that the allied princes should, in all matters relating to religion and

their civil rights, support each other with arms and counsel against

every aggressor, and should all stand as one man; that in case any

member of the alliance should be attacked, he should be assisted by the

rest with an armed force; that, if necessary, the territories, towns,

and castles of the allied states should be open to his troops; and

that, whatever conquests were made, should be divided among all the

confederates, in proportion to the contingent furnished by each.

The direction of the whole confederacy in time of peace was conferred

upon the Elector Palatine, but with a limited power. To meet the

necessary expenses, subsidies were demanded, and a common fund

established. Differences of religion (betwixt the Lutherans and the

Calvinists) were to have no effect on this alliance, which was to

subsist for ten years, every member of the union engaged at the same

time to procure new members to it. The Electorate of Brandenburg adopted

the alliance, that of Saxony rejected it. Hesse-Cashel could not be

prevailed upon to declare itself, the Dukes of Brunswick and Luneburg

also hesitated. But the three cities of the Empire, Strasburg,

Nuremburg, and Ulm, were no unimportant acquisition for the league,

which was in great want of their money, while their example, besides,

might be followed by other imperial cities.

After the formation of this alliance, the confederate states,

dispirited, and singly, little feared, adopted a bolder language.

Through Prince Christian of Anhalt, they laid their common grievances

and demands before the Emperor; among which the principal were the

restoration of Donauwerth, the abolition of the Imperial Court,

the reformation of the Emperor's own administration and that of his

counsellors. For these remonstrances, they chose the moment when

the Emperor had scarcely recovered breath from the troubles in his

hereditary dominions, -- when he had lost Hungary and Austria to

Matthias, and had barely preserved his Bohemian throne by the concession

of the Letter of Majesty, and finally, when through the succession of

Juliers he was already threatened with the distant prospect of a new

war. No wonder, then, that this dilatory prince was more irresolute than

ever in his decision, and that the confederates took up arms before he

could bethink himself.

The Roman Catholics regarded this confederacy with a jealous eye; the

Union viewed them and the Emperor with the like distrust; the Emperor

was equally suspicious of both; and thus, on all sides, alarm and

animosity had reached their climax. And, as if to crown the whole,

at this critical conjuncture by the death of the Duke John William of

Juliers, a highly disputable succession became vacant in the territories

of Juliers and Cleves.

Eight competitors laid claim to this territory, the indivisibility

of which had been guaranteed by solemn treaties; and the Emperor, who

seemed disposed to enter upon it as a vacant fief, might be considered

as the ninth. Four of these, the Elector of Brandenburg, the Count

Palatine of Neuburg, the Count Palatine of Deux Ponts, and the Margrave

of Burgau, an Austrian prince, claimed it as a female fief in name of

four princesses, sisters of the late duke. Two others, the Elector of

Saxony, of the line of Albert, and the Duke of Saxony, of the line of

Ernest, laid claim to it under a prior right of reversion granted to

them by the Emperor Frederick III., and confirmed to both Saxon houses

by Maximilian I. The pretensions of some foreign princes were little

regarded. The best right was perhaps on the side of Brandenburg and

Neuburg, and between the claims of these two it was not easy to decide.

Both courts, as soon as the succession was vacant, proceeded to take

possession; Brandenburg beginning, and Neuburg following the example.

Both commenced their dispute with the pen, and would probably have ended

it with the sword; but the interference of the Emperor, by proceeding to

bring the cause before his own cognizance, and, during the progress

of the suit, sequestrating the disputed countries, soon brought the

contending parties to an agreement, in order to avert the common danger.

They agreed to govern the duchy conjointly. In vain did the Emperor

prohibit the Estates from doing homage to their new masters; in vain

did he send his own relation, the Archduke Leopold, Bishop of Passau and

Strasburg, into the territory of Juliers, in order, by his presence, to

strengthen the imperial party. The whole country, with the exception

of Juliers itself, had submitted to the Protestant princes, and in that

capital the imperialists were besieged.

The dispute about the succession of Juliers was an important one to

the whole German empire, and also attracted the attention of several

European courts. It was not so much the question, who was or was not to

possess the Duchy of Juliers; -- the real question was, which of the two

religious parties in Germany, the Roman Catholic or the Protestant, was

to be strengthened by so important an accession -- for which of the two

RELIGIONS this territory was to be lost or won. The question in short

was, whether Austria was to be allowed to persevere in her usurpations,

and to gratify her lust of dominion by another robbery; or whether the

liberties of Germany, and the balance of power, were to be maintained

against her encroachments. The disputed succession of Juliers,

therefore, was matter which interested all who were favourable to

liberty, and hostile to Austria. The Evangelical Union, Holland,

England, and particularly Henry IV. of France, were drawn into the

strife.

This monarch, the flower of whose life had been spent in opposing

the House of Austria and Spain, and by persevering heroism alone had

surmounted the obstacles which this house had thrown between him and the

French throne, had been no idle spectator of the troubles in Germany.

This contest of the Estates with the Emperor was the means of giving

and securing peace to France. The Protestants and the Turks were the

two salutary weights which kept down the Austrian power in the East

and West; but it would rise again in all its terrors, if once it were

allowed to remove this pressure. Henry the Fourth had before his eyes

for half a lifetime, the uninterrupted spectacle of Austrian ambition

and Austrian lust of dominion, which neither adversity nor poverty

of talents, though generally they check all human passions, could

extinguish in a bosom wherein flowed one drop of the blood of Ferdinand

of Arragon. Austrian ambition had destroyed for a century the peace of

Europe, and effected the most violent changes in the heart of its most

considerable states. It had deprived the fields of husbandmen, the

workshops of artisans, to fill the land with enormous armies, and to

cover the commercial sea with hostile fleets. It had imposed upon the

princes of Europe the necessity of fettering the industry of their

subjects by unheard-of imposts; and of wasting in self-defence the best

strength of their states, which was thus lost to the prosperity of their

inhabitants. For Europe there was no peace, for its states no welfare,

for the people's happiness no security or permanence, so long as this

dangerous house was permitted to disturb at pleasure the repose of the

world.

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.

And when he now, yielding to the stern law of necessity, made overtures

to the Bohemian rebels, all his proposals for peace were insolently

rejected. Count Thurn, at the head of an army, entered Moravia to

bring this province, which alone continued to waver, to a decision. The

appearance of their friends is the signal of revolt for the Moravian

Protestants. Bruenn is taken, the remainder of the country yields with

free will, throughout the province government and religion are changed.

Swelling as it flows, the torrent of rebellion pours down upon Austria,

where a party, holding similar sentiments, receives it with a joyful

concurrence. Henceforth, there should be no more distinctions of

religion; equality of rights should be guaranteed to all Christian

churches. They hear that a foreign force has been invited into the

country to oppress the Bohemians. Let them be sought out, and the

enemies of liberty pursued to the ends of the earth. Not an arm is

raised in defence of the Archduke, and the rebels, at length, encamp

before Vienna to besiege their sovereign.

Ferdinand had sent his children from Gratz, where they were no longer

safe, to the Tyrol; he himself awaited the insurgents in his capital.

A handful of soldiers was all he could oppose to the enraged multitude;

these few were without pay or provisions, and therefore little to be

depended on. Vienna was unprepared for a long siege. The party of

the Protestants, ready at any moment to join the Bohemians, had the

preponderance in the city; those in the country had already begun

to levy troops against him. Already, in imagination, the Protestant

populace saw the Emperor shut up in a monastery, his territories

divided, and his children educated as Protestants. Confiding in secret,

and surrounded by public enemies, he saw the chasm every moment widening

to engulf his hopes and even himself. The Bohemian bullets were already

falling upon the imperial palace, when sixteen Austrian barons forcibly

entered his chamber, and inveighing against him with loud and bitter

reproaches, endeavoured to force him into a confederation with the

Bohemians. One of them, seizing him by the button of his doublet,

demanded, in a tone of menace, "Ferdinand, wilt thou sign it?"

Who would not be pardoned had he wavered in this frightful situation?

Yet Ferdinand still remembered the dignity of a Roman emperor. No

alternative seemed left to him but an immediate flight or submission;

laymen urged him to the one, priests to the other. If he abandoned the

city, it would fall into the enemy's hands; with Vienna, Austria was

lost; with Austria, the imperial throne. Ferdinand abandoned not his

capital, and as little would he hear of conditions.

The Archduke is still engaged in altercation with the deputed barons,

when all at once a sound of trumpets is heard in the palace square.

Terror and astonishment take possession of all present; a fearful report

pervades the palace; one deputy after another disappears. Many of the

nobility and the citizens hastily take refuge in the camp of Thurn. This

sudden change is effected by a regiment of Dampierre's cuirassiers, who

at that moment marched into the city to defend the Archduke. A body of

infantry soon followed; reassured by their appearance, several of the

Roman Catholic citizens, and even the students themselves, take up

arms. A report which arrived just at the same time from Bohemia made his

deliverance complete. The Flemish general, Bucquoi, had totally defeated

Count Mansfeld at Budweiss, and was marching upon Prague. The Bohemians

hastily broke up their camp before Vienna to protect their own capital.

And now also the passes were free which the enemy had taken possession

of, in order to obstruct Ferdinand's progress to his coronation at

Frankfort. If the accession to the imperial throne was important for the

plans of the King of Hungary, it was of still greater consequence at

the present moment, when his nomination as Emperor would afford the most

unsuspicious and decisive proof of the dignity of his person, and of the

justice of his cause, while, at the same time, it would give him a hope

of support from the Empire. But the same cabal which opposed him in his

hereditary dominions, laboured also to counteract him in his canvass

for the imperial dignity. No Austrian prince, they maintained, ought

to ascend the throne; least of all Ferdinand, the bigoted persecutor of

their religion, the slave of Spain and of the Jesuits. To prevent this,

the crown had been offered, even during the lifetime of Matthias, to

the Duke of Bavaria, and on his refusal, to the Duke of Savoy. As some

difficulty was experienced in settling with the latter the conditions

of acceptance, it was sought, at all events, to delay the election till

some decisive blow in Austria or Bohemia should annihilate all the

hopes of Ferdinand, and incapacitate him from any competition for this

dignity. The members of the Union left no stone unturned to gain over

from Ferdinand the Electorate of Saxony, which was bound to Austrian

interests; they represented to this court the dangers with which the

Protestant religion, and even the constitution of the empire, were

threatened by the principles of this prince and his Spanish alliance. By

the elevation of Ferdinand to the imperial throne, Germany, they further

asserted, would be involved in the private quarrels of this prince,

and bring upon itself the arms of Bohemia. But in spite of all opposing

influences, the day of election was fixed, Ferdinand summoned to it

as lawful king of Bohemia, and his electoral vote, after a fruitless

resistance on the part of the Bohemian Estates, acknowledged to be good.

The votes of the three ecclesiastical electorates were for him, Saxony

was favourable to him, Brandenburg made no opposition, and a decided

majority declared him Emperor in 1619. Thus he saw the most doubtful of

his crowns placed first of all on his head; but a few days after he lost

that which he had reckoned among the most certain of his possessions.

While he was thus elected Emperor in Frankfort, he was in Prague

deprived of the Bohemian throne.

Almost all of his German hereditary dominions had in the meantime

entered into a formidable league with the Bohemians, whose insolence

now exceeded all bounds. In a general Diet, the latter, on the 17th of

August, 1619, proclaimed the Emperor an enemy to the Bohemian religion

and liberties, who by his pernicious counsels had alienated from them

the affections of the late Emperor, had furnished troops to oppress

them, had given their country as a prey to foreigners, and finally, in

contravention of the national rights, had bequeathed the crown, by a

secret compact, to Spain: they therefore declared that he had forfeited

whatever title he might otherwise have had to the crown, and immediately

proceeded to a new election. As this sentence was pronounced by

Protestants, their choice could not well fall upon a Roman Catholic

prince, though, to save appearances, some voices were raised for Bavaria

and Savoy. But the violent religious animosities which divided the

evangelical and the reformed parties among the Protestants, impeded

for some time the election even of a Protestant king; till at last

the address and activity of the Calvinists carried the day from the

numerical superiority of the Lutherans.

Among all the princes who were competitors for this dignity, the Elector

Palatine Frederick V. had the best grounded claims on the confidence

and gratitude of the Bohemians; and among them all, there was no one

in whose case the private interests of particular Estates, and

the attachment of the people, seemed to be justified by so many

considerations of state. Frederick V. was of a free and lively spirit,

of great goodness of heart, and regal liberality. He was the head of the

Calvinistic party in Germany, the leader of the Union, whose resources

were at his disposal, a near relation of the Duke of Bavaria, and a

son-in-law of the King of Great Britain, who might lend him his powerful

support. All these considerations were prominently and successfully

brought forward by the Calvinists, and Frederick V. was chosen king by

the Assembly at Prague, amidst prayers and tears of joy.

The whole proceedings of the Diet at Prague had been premeditated, and

Frederick himself had taken too active a share in the matter to feel

at all surprised at the offer made to him by the Bohemians. But now the

immediate glitter of this throne dazzled him, and the magnitude both of

his elevation and his delinquency made his weak mind to tremble. After

the usual manner of pusillanimous spirits, he sought to confirm himself

in his purpose by the opinions of others; but these opinions had no

weight with him when they ran counter to his own cherished wishes.

Saxony and Bavaria, of whom he sought advice, all his brother electors,

all who compared the magnitude of the design with his capacities and

resources, warned him of the danger into which he was about to rush.

Even King James of England preferred to see his son-in-law deprived of

this crown, than that the sacred majesty of kings should be outraged by

so dangerous a precedent. But of what avail was the voice of prudence

against the seductive glitter of a crown? In the moment of boldest

determination, when they are indignantly rejecting the consecrated

branch of a race which had governed them for two centuries, a free

people throws itself into his arms. Confiding in his courage, they

choose him as their leader in the dangerous career of glory and liberty.

To him, as to its born champion, an oppressed religion looks for shelter

and support against its persecutors. Could he have the weakness to

listen to his fears, and to betray the cause of religion and liberty?

This religion proclaims to him its own preponderance, and the weakness

of its rival, -- two-thirds of the power of Austria are now in arms

against Austria itself, while a formidable confederacy, already formed

in Transylvania, would, by a hostile attack, further distract even

the weak remnant of its power. Could inducements such as these fail

to awaken his ambition, or such hopes to animate and inflame his

resolution?

A few moments of calm consideration would have sufficed to show the

danger of the undertaking, and the comparative worthlessness of the

prize. But the temptation spoke to his feelings; the warning only to

his reason. It was his misfortune that his nearest and most influential

counsellors espoused the side of his passions. The aggrandizement of

their master's power opened to the ambition and avarice of his Palatine

servants an unlimited field for their gratification; this anticipated

triumph of their church kindled the ardour of the Calvinistic fanatic.

Could a mind so weak as that of Ferdinand resist the delusions of his

counsellors, who exaggerated his resources and his strength, as much

as they underrated those of his enemies; or the exhortations of his

preachers, who announced the effusions of their fanatical zeal as the

immediate inspiration of heaven? The dreams of astrology filled his

mind with visionary hopes; even love conspired, with its irresistible

fascination, to complete the seduction. "Had you," demanded the

Electress, "confidence enough in yourself to accept the hand of a

king's daughter, and have you misgivings about taking a crown which is

voluntarily offered you? I would rather eat bread at thy kingly table,

than feast at thy electoral board."

Frederick accepted the Bohemian crown. The coronation was celebrated

with unexampled pomp at Prague, for the nation displayed all its riches

in honour of its own work. Silesia and Moravia, the adjoining provinces

to Bohemia, followed their example, and did homage to Frederick. The

reformed faith was enthroned in all the churches of the kingdom; the

rejoicings were unbounded, their attachment to their new king bordered

on adoration. Denmark and Sweden, Holland and Venice, and several of the

Dutch states, acknowledged him as lawful sovereign, and Frederick now

prepared to maintain his new acquisition.

His principal hopes rested on Prince Bethlen Gabor of Transylvania.

This formidable enemy of Austria, and of the Roman Catholic church, not

content with the principality which, with the assistance of the Turks,

he had wrested from his legitimate prince, Gabriel Bathori, gladly

seized this opportunity of aggrandizing himself at the expense of

Austria, which had hesitated to acknowledge him as sovereign of

Transylvania. An attack upon Hungary and Austria was concerted with

the Bohemian rebels, and both armies were to unite before the capital.

Meantime, Bethlen Gabor, under the mask of friendship, disguised the

true object of his warlike preparations, artfully promising the

Emperor to lure the Bohemians into the toils, by a pretended offer

of assistance, and to deliver up to him alive the leaders of the

insurrection. All at once, however, he appeared in a hostile attitude

in Upper Hungary. Before him went terror, and devastation behind; all

opposition yielded, and at Presburg he received the Hungarian crown. The

Emperor's brother, who governed in Vienna, trembled for the capital. He

hastily summoned General Bucquoi to his assistance, and the retreat of

the Imperialists drew the Bohemians, a second time, before the walls

of Vienna. Reinforced by twelve thousand Transylvanians, and soon after

joined by the victorious army of Bethlen Gabor, they again menaced the

capital with assault; all the country round Vienna was laid waste, the

navigation of the Danube closed, all supplies cut off, and the horrors

of famine were threatened. Ferdinand, hastily recalled to his capital by

this urgent danger, saw himself a second time on the brink of ruin. But

want of provisions, and the inclement weather, finally compelled the

Bohemians to go into quarters, a defeat in Hungary recalled Bethlen

Gabor, and thus once more had fortune rescued the Emperor.

In a few weeks the scene was changed, and by his prudence and activity

Ferdinand improved his position as rapidly as Frederick, by indolence

and impolicy, ruined his. The Estates of Lower Austria were regained to

their allegiance by a confirmation of their privileges; and the few who

still held out were declared guilty of `lese-majeste' and high treason.

During the election of Frankfort, he had contrived, by personal

representations, to win over to his cause the ecclesiastical electors,

and also Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, at Munich. The whole issue of the

war, the fate of Frederick and the Emperor, were now dependent on the

part which the Union and the League should take in the troubles of

Bohemia. It was evidently of importance to all the Protestants of

Germany that the King of Bohemia should be supported, while it was

equally the interest of the Roman Catholics to prevent the ruin of the

Emperor. If the Protestants succeeded in Bohemia, all the Roman Catholic

princes in Germany might tremble for their possessions; if they failed,

the Emperor would give laws to Protestant Germany. Thus Ferdinand put

the League, Frederick the Union, in motion. The ties of relationship and

a personal attachment to the Emperor, his brother-in-law, with whom he

had been educated at Ingolstadt, zeal for the Roman Catholic religion,

which seemed to be in the most imminent peril, and the suggestions of

the Jesuits, combined with the suspicious movements of the Union, moved

the Duke of Bavaria, and all the princes of the League, to make the

cause of Ferdinand their own.

According to the terms of a treaty with the Emperor, which assured to

the Duke of Bavaria compensation for all the expenses of the war, or the

losses he might sustain, Maximilian took, with full powers, the

command of the troops of the League, which were ordered to march to the

assistance of the Emperor against the Bohemian rebels. The leaders of

the Union, instead of delaying by every means this dangerous coalition

of the League with the Emperor, did every thing in their power to

accelerate it. Could they, they thought, but once drive the Roman

Catholic League to take an open part in the Bohemian war, they might

reckon on similar measures from all the members and allies of the Union.

Without some open step taken by the Roman Catholics against the Union,

no effectual confederacy of the Protestant powers was to be looked for.

They seized, therefore, the present emergency of the troubles in

Bohemia to demand from the Roman Catholics the abolition of their past

grievances, and full security for the future exercise of their religion.

They addressed this demand, which was moreover couched in threatening

language, to the Duke of Bavaria, as the head of the Roman Catholics,

and they insisted on an immediate and categorical answer. Maximilian

might decide for or against them, still their point was gained; his

concession, if he yielded, would deprive the Roman Catholic party of

its most powerful protector; his refusal would arm the whole Protestant

party, and render inevitable a war in which they hoped to be the

conquerors. Maximilian, firmly attached to the opposite party from so

many other considerations, took the demands of the Union as a formal

declaration of hostilities, and quickened his preparations. While

Bavaria and the League were thus arming in the Emperor's cause,

negotiations for a subsidy were opened with the Spanish court. All the

difficulties with which the indolent policy of that ministry met this

demand were happily surmounted by the imperial ambassador at Madrid,

Count Khevenhuller. In addition to a subsidy of a million of florins,

which from time to time were doled out by this court, an attack upon the

Lower Palatinate, from the side of the Spanish Netherlands, was at the

same time agreed upon.

During these attempts to draw all the Roman Catholic powers into the

League, every exertion was made against the counter-league of the

Protestants. To this end, it was important to alarm the Elector of

Saxony and the other Evangelical powers, and accordingly the Union were

diligent in propagating a rumour that the preparations of the League had

for their object to deprive them of the ecclesiastical foundations they

had secularized. A written assurance to the contrary calmed the fears of

the Duke of Saxony, whom moreover private jealousy of the Palatine, and

the insinuations of his chaplain, who was in the pay of Austria,

and mortification at having been passed over by the Bohemians in the

election to the throne, strongly inclined to the side of Austria. The

fanaticism of the Lutherans could never forgive the reformed party for

having drawn, as they expressed it, so many fair provinces into the gulf

of Calvinism, and rejecting the Roman Antichrist only to make way for an

Helvetian one.

While Ferdinand used every effort to improve the unfavourable situation

of his affairs, Frederick was daily injuring his good cause. By his

close and questionable connexion with the Prince of Transylvania, the

open ally of the Porte, he gave offence to weak minds; and a general

rumour accused him of furthering his own ambition at the expense of

Christendom, and arming the Turks against Germany. His inconsiderate

zeal for the Calvinistic scheme irritated the Lutherans of Bohemia, his

attacks on image-worship incensed the Papists of this kingdom against

him. New and oppressive imposts alienated the affections of all his

subjects. The disappointed hopes of the Bohemian nobles cooled their

zeal; the absence of foreign succours abated their confidence. Instead

of devoting himself with untiring energies to the affairs of his

kingdom, Frederick wasted his time in amusements; instead of filling

his treasury by a wise economy, he squandered his revenues by a needless

theatrical pomp, and a misplaced munificence. With a light-minded

carelessness, he did but gaze at himself in his new dignity, and in the

ill-timed desire to enjoy his crown, he forgot the more pressing duty of

securing it on his head.

But greatly as men had erred in their opinion of him, Frederick himself

had not less miscalculated his foreign resources. Most of the members

of the Union considered the affairs of Bohemia as foreign to the real

object of their confederacy; others, who were devoted to him, were

overawed by fear of the Emperor. Saxony and Hesse Darmstadt had already

been gained over by Ferdinand; Lower Austria, on which side a powerful

diversion had been looked for, had made its submission to the Emperor;

and Bethlen Gabor had concluded a truce with him. By its embassies, the

court of Vienna had induced Denmark to remain inactive, and to occupy

Sweden in a war with the Poles. The republic of Holland had enough to

do to defend itself against the arms of the Spaniards; Venice and Saxony

remained inactive; King James of England was overreached by the artifice

of Spain. One friend after another withdrew; one hope vanished after

another -- so rapidly in a few months was every thing changed.

In the mean time, the leaders of the Union assembled an army; -- the

Emperor and the League did the same. The troops of the latter were

assembled under the banners of Maximilian at Donauwerth, those of the

Union at Ulm, under the Margrave of Anspach. The decisive moment seemed

at length to have arrived which was to end these long dissensions by

a vigorous blow, and irrevocably to settle the relation of the two

churches in Germany. Anxiously on the stretch was the expectation of

both parties. How great then was their astonishment when suddenly

the intelligence of peace arrived, and both armies separated without

striking a blow!

The intervention of France effected this peace, which was equally

acceptable to both parties. The French cabinet, no longer swayed by the

counsels of Henry the Great, and whose maxims of state were perhaps not

applicable to the present condition of that kingdom, was now far less

alarmed at the preponderance of Austria, than of the increase which

would accrue to the strength of the Calvinists, if the Palatine house

should be able to retain the throne of Bohemia. Involved at the time in

a dangerous conflict with its own Calvinistic subjects, it was of the

utmost importance to France that the Protestant faction in Bohemia

should be suppressed before the Huguenots could copy their dangerous

example. In order therefore to facilitate the Emperor's operations

against the Bohemians, she offered her mediation to the Union and the

League, and effected this unexpected treaty, of which the main article

was, "That the Union should abandon all interference in the affairs of

Bohemia, and confine the aid which they might afford to Frederick the

Fifth, to his Palatine territories." To this disgraceful treaty, the

Union were moved by the firmness of Maximilian, and the fear of being

pressed at once by the troops of the League, and a new Imperial army

which was on its march from the Netherlands.

The whole force of Bavaria and the League was now at the disposal of the

Emperor to be employed against the Bohemians, who by the pacification

of Ulm were abandoned to their fate. With a rapid movement, and before a

rumour of the proceedings at Ulm could reach there, Maximilian appeared

in Upper Austria, when the Estates, surprised and unprepared for an

enemy, purchased the Emperor's pardon by an immediate and unconditional

submission. In Lower Austria, the duke formed a junction with the troops

from the Low Countries under Bucquoi, and without loss of time the

united Imperial and Bavarian forces, amounting to 50,000 men, entered

Bohemia. All the Bohemian troops, which were dispersed over Lower

Austria and Moravia, were driven before them; every town which attempted

resistance was quickly taken by storm; others, terrified by the report

of the punishment inflicted on these, voluntarily opened their gates;

nothing in short interrupted the impetuous career of Maximilian. The

Bohemian army, commanded by the brave Prince Christian of Anhalt,

retreated to the neighbourhood of Prague; where, under the walls of the

city, Maximilian offered him battle.

The wretched condition in which he hoped to surprise the insurgents,

justified the rapidity of the duke's movements, and secured him the

victory. Frederick's army did not amount to 30,000 men. Eight thousand

of these were furnished by the Prince of Anhalt; 10,000 were Hungarians,

whom Bethlen Gabor had despatched to his assistance. An inroad of the

Elector of Saxony upon Lusatia, had cut off all succours from that

country, and from Silesia; the pacification of Austria put an end to

all his expectations from that quarter; Bethlen Gabor, his most powerful

ally, remained inactive in Transylvania; the Union had betrayed his

cause to the Emperor. Nothing remained to him but his Bohemians; and

they were without goodwill to his cause, and without unity and courage.

The Bohemian magnates were indignant that German generals should be put

over their heads; Count Mansfeld remained in Pilsen, at a distance

from the camp, to avoid the mortification of serving under Anhalt and

Hohenlohe. The soldiers, in want of necessaries, became dispirited;

and the little discipline that was observed, gave occasion to bitter

complaints from the peasantry. It was in vain that Frederick made his

appearance in the camp, in the hope of reviving the courage of the

soldiers by his presence, and of kindling the emulation of the nobles by

his example.

The Bohemians had begun to entrench themselves on the White Mountain

near Prague, when they were attacked by the Imperial and Bavarian

armies, on the 8th November, 1620. In the beginning of the action, some

advantages were gained by the cavalry of the Prince of Anhalt; but the

superior numbers of the enemy soon neutralized them. The charge of the

Bavarians and Walloons was irresistible. The Hungarian cavalry was the

first to retreat. The Bohemian infantry soon followed their example; and

the Germans were at last carried along with them in the general flight.

Ten cannons, composing the whole of Frederick's artillery, were taken by

the enemy; four thousand Bohemians fell in the flight and on the field;

while of the Imperialists and soldiers of the League only a few hundred

were killed. In less than an hour this decisive action was over.

Frederick was seated at table in Prague, while his army was thus cut to

pieces. It is probable that he had not expected the attack on this day,

since he had ordered an entertainment for it. A messenger summoned him

from table, to show him from the walls the whole frightful scene.

He requested a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours for

deliberation; but eight was all the Duke of Bavaria would allow him.

Frederick availed himself of these to fly by night from the capital,

with his wife, and the chief officers of his army. This flight was so

hurried, that the Prince of Anhalt left behind him his most private

papers, and Frederick his crown. "I know now what I am," said this

unfortunate prince to those who endeavoured to comfort him; "there are

virtues which misfortune only can teach us, and it is in adversity alone

that princes learn to know themselves."

Prague was not irretrievably lost when Frederick's pusillanimity

abandoned it. The light troops of Mansfeld were still in Pilsen, and

were not engaged in the action. Bethlen Gabor might at any moment have

assumed an offensive attitude, and drawn off the Emperor's army to

the Hungarian frontier. The defeated Bohemians might rally. Sickness,

famine, and the inclement weather, might wear out the enemy; but all

these hopes disappeared before the immediate alarm. Frederick dreaded

the fickleness of the Bohemians, who might probably yield to the

temptation to purchase, by the surrender of his person, the pardon of

the Emperor.

Thurn, and those of this party who were in the same condemnation with

him, found it equally inexpedient to await their destiny within the

walls of Prague. They retired towards Moravia, with a view of seeking

refuge in Transylvania. Frederick fled to Breslau, where, however, he

only remained a short time. He removed from thence to the court of the

Elector of Brandenburg, and finally took shelter in Holland.

The battle of Prague had decided the fate of Bohemia. Prague surrendered

the next day to the victors; the other towns followed the example of

the capital. The Estates did homage without conditions, and the same was

done by those of Silesia and Moravia. The Emperor allowed three months

to elapse, before instituting any inquiry into the past. Reassured by

this apparent clemency, many who, at first, had fled in terror appeared

again in the capital. All at once, however, the storm burst forth;

forty-eight of the most active among the insurgents were arrested on the

same day and hour, and tried by an extraordinary commission, composed

of native Bohemians and Austrians. Of these, twenty-seven, and of the

common people an immense number, expired on the scaffold. The absenting

offenders were summoned to appear to their trial, and failing to do

so, condemned to death, as traitors and offenders against his Catholic

Majesty, their estates confiscated, and their names affixed to the

gallows. The property also of the rebels who had fallen in the field was

seized. This tyranny might have been borne, as it affected individuals

only, and while the ruin of one enriched another; but more intolerable

was the oppression which extended to the whole kingdom, without

exception. All the Protestant preachers were banished from the country;

the Bohemians first, and afterwards those of Germany. The `Letter of

Majesty', Ferdinand tore with his own hand, and burnt the seal. Seven

years after the battle of Prague, the toleration of the Protestant

religion within the kingdom was entirely revoked. But whatever violence

the Emperor allowed himself against the religious privileges of his

subjects, he carefully abstained from interfering with their political

constitution; and while he deprived them of the liberty of thought, he

magnanimously left them the prerogative of taxing themselves.

The victory of the White Mountain put Ferdinand in possession of all his

dominions. It even invested him with greater authority over them

than his predecessors enjoyed, since their allegiance had been

unconditionally pledged to him, and no Letter of Majesty now existed to

limit his sovereignty. All his wishes were now gratified, to a degree

surpassing his most sanguine expectations.

It was now in his power to dismiss his allies, and disband his army. If

he was just, there was an end of the war -- if he was both magnanimous

and just, punishment was also at an end. The fate of Germany was in his

hands; the happiness and misery of millions depended on the resolution

he should take. Never was so great a decision resting on a single mind;

never did the blindness of one man produce so much ruin.