long and unjust imprisonment.  The King of France and other princes issued similar declarations.  The smothered disaffection with the emperor instantly blazed forth all over the German empire.  The cause of Maurice was extremely popular.  The Protestants in a mass, and many others, flocked to his standard.  As by magic and in a day, all was changed.  The imperial towns Augsburg, Nuremberg and others, threw open their gates joyfully to Maurice.  Whole provinces rushed to his standard.  He was everywhere received as the guardian of civil and religious liberty.  The ejected Protestant rulers and magistrates were reinstated, the Protestant churches opened, the Protestant preachers restored.  In one month the Protestant party was predominant in the German empire, and the Catholic party either neutral or secretly favoring one who was humbling that haughty emperor whom even the Catholics had begun to fear.  The prelates who were assembling at Trent, alarmed by so sudden and astounding a revolution, dissolved the assembly and hastened to their homes.

The emperor was at Innspruck seated in his arm chair, with his limbs bandaged in flannel, enfeebled and suffering from a severe attack of the gout, when the intelligence of this sudden and overwhelming reverse reached him.  He was astonished and utterly confounded.  In weakness and pain, unable to leave his couch, with his treasury exhausted, his armies widely scattered, and so pressed by their foes that they could not be concentrated from their wide dispersion, there was nothing left for him but to endeavor to beguile Maurice into a truce.  But Maurice was as much at home in all the arts of cunning as the emperor, and instead of being beguiled, contrived to entrap his antagonist.  This was a new and a very salutary experience for Charles.  It is a very novel sensation for a successful rogue to be the dupe of roguery.

Maurice pressed on, his army gathering force at every step.  He entered the Tyrol, swept through all its valleys, took possession of all its castles and its sublime fastnesses, and the blasts of his bugles reverberated among the cliffs of the Alps, ever sounding the charge and announcing victory, never signaling a defeat.  The emperor was reduced to the terrible humiliation of saving himself from capture only by flight.  The emperor could hardly credit his senses when told that his conquering foes were within two days’ march of Innspruck, and that a squadron of horse might at any hour appear and cut off his retreat.  It was in the night when these appalling tidings were brought to him.  The tortures of the gout would not allow him to mount on horseback, neither could he bear the jolting in a carriage over the rough roads.  It was a dark and stormy night, the 20th of May, 1552.  The rain fell in torrents, and the wind howled through the fir-trees and around the crags of the Alps.  Some attendants wrapped the monarch in blankets, took him out into the court-yard of the palace, and placed him in a litter.  Attendants