princes. There was fear among the Imperialists, Catholics, and
Spaniards, lest the baleful constellation of the Seven Provinces might be
increased by an eighth star. And this was a project not to be tolerated.
It was much already that the upstart confederacy had defied Pope,
Emperor, and King, as it were, on their own domains, had dictated
arrangements in Germany directly in the teeth of its emperor, using
France as her subordinate, and compelling the British king to acquiesce
in what he most hated.

But it was not merely to surprise Julich, and to get a foothold in the
duchies, that Leopold had gone forth on his adventure. His campaign, as
already intimated, was part of a wide scheme in which he had persuaded
his emperor-cousin to acquiesce. Poor Rudolph had been at last goaded
into a feeble attempt at revolt against his three brothers and his cousin
Ferdinand. Peace-loving, inert, fond of his dinner, fonder of his
magnificent collections of gems and intagli, liking to look out of window
at his splendid collection of horses, he was willing to pass a quiet
life, afar from the din of battles and the turmoil of affairs. As he
happened to be emperor of half Europe, these harmless tastes could not
well be indulged. Moon-faced and fat, silent and slow, he was not
imperial of aspect on canvas or coin, even when his brows were decorated
with the conventional laurel wreath. He had been stripped of his
authority and all but discrowned by his more bustling brothers Matthias
and Max, while the sombre figure of Styrian Ferdinand, pupil of the
Jesuits, and passionate admirer of Philip II., stood ever in the
background, casting a prophetic shadow over the throne and over Germany.

The brothers were endeavouring to persuade Rudolph that he would find
more comfort in Innsbruck than in Prague; that he required repose after
the strenuous labours of government. They told him, too, that it would