archbishop made himself busy in translating that wholesome production into German, and in dispersing it “all Germany over.”  The work, setting duly forth “that the executions of priests in England were not for religion but for treason,” was “marvellously liked” in the Netherlands.  “In uttering the truth,” said Herle, “’tis likely to do great good;” and he added, that Duke Augustus of Saxony “did now see so far into the sect of Jesuits, and to their inward mischiefs, as to become their open enemy, and to make friends against them in the Empire.”

The love of Truchsess for Agnes Mansfeld had created disaster not only for himself but for Germany.  The whole electorate of Cologne had become the constant seat of partisan warfare, and the resort of organised bands of brigands.  Villages were burned and rifled, highways infested, cities threatened, and the whole country subjected to perpetual black mail (brandschatzung)—­fire-insurance levied by the incendiaries in person—­by the supporters of the rival bishops.  Truchsess had fled to Delft, where he had been countenanced and supported by Orange.  Two cities still held for him, Rheinberg and Neuss.  On the other hand, his rival, Ernest of Bavaria; supported by Philip ii., and the occasional guest of Alexander of Parma, had not yet succeeded in establishing a strong foothold in the territory.  Two pauper archbishops, without men or means of their own, were thus pushed forward and back, like puppets, by the contending highwaymen on either side; while robbery and murder, under the name of Protestantism or Catholicism, were for a time the only motive or result of the contest.

Thus along the Rhine, as well as the Maas and the Scheldt, the fires of civil war were ever burning.  Deeper within the heart of Germany, there was more tranquillity; but it was the tranquillity rather of paralysis than of health.  A fearful account was slowly accumulating, which was evidently to be settled only by one of the most horrible wars which history has ever recorded.  Meantime there was apathy where there should have been enthusiasm; parsimony and cowardice where generous and combined effort were more necessary than ever; sloth without security.  The Protestant princes, growing fat and contented on the spoils of the church, lent but a deaf ear to the moans of Truchsess, forgetting that their neighbour’s blazing roof was likely soon to fire their own.  “They understand better, ’proximus sum egomet mild’,” wrote Lord Willoughby from Kronenburg, “than they have learned, ’humani nihid a me alienum puto’.  These German princes continue still in their lethargy, careless of the state of others, and dreaming of their ubiquity, and some of them, it is thought, inclining to be Spanish or Popish more of late than heretofore.”