villages to be burned, churches to be plundered, cities to be sacked,
nuns and other women to be outraged, dangerous political intrigues to be
managed. A man in the prime of his age, fair-haired, prematurely
wrinkled, battered, and hideous of visage, with a hare-lip and a
humpback; slovenly of dress, and always wearing an old grey hat without a
band to it; audacious, cruel, crafty, and licentious--such was Ernest
Mansfeld, whom some of his contemporaries spoke of as Ulysses Germanicus,
others as the new Attila, all as a scourge to the human race. The
cockneys of Paris called him "Machefer," and nurses long kept children
quiet by threatening them with that word. He was now enrolled on the
Protestant side, although at the moment serving Savoy against Spain in a
question purely personal. His armies, whether in Italy or in Germany,
were a miscellaneous collection of adventurers of high and low degree, of
all religions, of all countries, unfrocked priests and students, ruined
nobles, bankrupt citizens, street vagabonds--earliest type perhaps of the
horrible military vermin which were destined to feed so many years long
on the unfortunate dismembered carcass of Germany.

Many demands had been made upon the States for assistance to Savoy,--as
if they and they alone were to bear the brunt and pay the expense of all
the initiatory campaigns against Spain.

"We are much importuned," said the Advocate, "to do something for the
help of Savoy . . . . We wish and we implore that France, Great Britain,
the German princes, the Venetians, and the Swiss would join us in some
scheme of effective assistance. But we have enough on our shoulders at
this moment."

They had hardly money enough in their exchequer, admirably ordered as it
was, for enterprises so far from home when great Spanish armies were