the Thirty Years' War. A century had passed
since the Diet of Worms, in which Protestantism first boldly lifted its
head against Catholicism. During that period the new religious doctrines
had gained a firm footing in Germany. Charles V. had done his utmost to
put them down, and, discouraged by his failure, had abdicated the
throne. In his retreat he is said to have amused his leisure in seeking
to make two watches go precisely alike. The effort proved as vain as
that to make two people think alike, and he exclaimed, "Not even two
watches, with similar works, can I make to agree, and yet, fool that I
was, I thought I should be able to control like the works of a watch
different nations, living under diverse skies, in different climes, and
speaking varied languages." Those who followed him were to meet with a
similar result.

The second effort to put down Protestantism by arms began in 1618, and
led to that frightful outbreak of human virulence, the Thirty Years'
War, which made Germany a desert, but left religion as it found it. The
emperor, Ferdinand II., a rigid Catholic, bitterly opposed to the spread
of Protestantism, had ordered the demolition of two new churches built
by the Bohemian Protestants. His order led to instant hostilities. Count
Thurn, a fierce Bohemian nobleman, had the emperor's representatives,
Slawata and Martinitz by name, flung out of the window of the
council-chamber in Prague, a height of seventy or more feet, and their
secretary Fabricius flung after them. It was a terrible fall, but they
escaped, for a pile of litter and old papers lay below. Fabricius fell
on Martinitz, and, polite to the last, begged his pardon for coming down
upon him so rudely. This act of violence, which occurred on May 23,
1618, is looked upon as the true beginning of the dreadful war.

Matters moved rapidly. Bohemia was conquered by the imperial armies, its
nobles exiled or executed, its religion suppressed. This victory gained,
an effort was made to suppress Lutheranism in Upper Austria. It led to a
revolt, and soon the whole country was in a flame of war. Tilly and
Pappenheim, the imperial commanders, swept all before them, until they
suddenly found themselves opposed by a man their equal in ability, Count
Mansfeld, who had played an active part in the Bohemian wars.

A diminutive, deformed, sickly-looking man was Mansfeld, but he had the
soul of a soldier in his small frame. No sooner was his standard raised
than