of the church, whose representative the Council gave itself out to be.
Could, then, a secular treaty, extorted moreover by force of arms,
afford them adequate protection against the ban of the church; a treaty, too,
based on a condition which the decision of the Council seemed entirely
to abolish? There was then a show of right for violating the peace,
if only the Romanists possessed the power; and henceforward the Protestants
were protected by nothing but the respect for their formidable array.

Other circumstances combined to augment this distrust. Spain,
on whose support the Romanists in Germany chiefly relied, was engaged in
a bloody conflict with the Flemings. By it, the flower of the Spanish troops
were drawn to the confines of Germany. With what ease might they be
introduced within the empire, if a decisive stroke should render
their presence necessary? Germany was at that time a magazine of war
for nearly all the powers of Europe. The religious war had crowded it
with soldiers, whom the peace left destitute; its many independent princes
found it easy to assemble armies, and afterwards, for the sake of gain,
or the interests of party, hire them out to other powers. With German troops,
Philip the Second waged war against the Netherlands, and with German troops
they defended themselves. Every such levy in Germany was a subject of alarm
to the one party or the other, since it might be intended
for their oppression. The arrival of an ambassador, an extraordinary legate
of the Pope, a conference of princes, every unusual incident, must,
it was thought, be pregnant with destruction to some party. Thus,
for nearly half a century, stood Germany, her hand upon the sword;
every rustle of a leaf alarmed her.

Ferdinand the First, King of Hungary, and his excellent son,
Maximilian the Second, held at this memorable epoch the reins of government.
With a heart full of sincerity, with a truly heroic patience,