Upon a magnificent eminence called the White Mountain, which commanded the city and its most important approaches, the disheartened army of Frederic stopped in its flight, and made its last stand. The enemy were in hot pursuit. The Bohemians in breathless haste began to throw up intrenchments along the ravines, and to plant their batteries on the hills, when the banners of Ferdinand were seen approaching. The emperor was too energetic a warrior to allow his panic-stricken foes time to regain their courage. Without an hour's delay he urged his victorious columns to the charge. The Bohemians fought desperately, with far more spirit than could have been expected. But they were overpowered by numbers, and in one short hour the army of Frederic was annihilated. Four thousand were left dead upon the field, one thousand were drowned in the frantic attempt to swim the Moldau, and the rest were either dispersed as fugitives over hill and valley or taken captive. The victory of the emperor was complete, the hopes of Frederic crushed, and the fate of Bohemia sealed. The contemptible Frederic, while this fierce battle was raging beneath the very walls of his capital, instead of placing himself at the head of his troops, was in the heart of the city, in the banqueting-hall of his palace, bowing and smiling and feasting his friends. The Prince of Anhalt, who was in command of the Bohemian army, had sent a most urgent message to the king, intreating him to dispatch immediately to his aid all the troops in the city, and especially to repair himself to the camp to encourage the troops by his presence. Frederic was at the table when he received this message, and sent word back that he could not come until after dinner. As soon as the combat commenced, another still more urgent message was sent, to which he returned the same reply. _After dinner_ he mounted his horse and rode to the gate which led to the White Mountain. The thunders of the terrible battle filled the air; the whole city was in the wildest state of terror and confusion; the gates barred and barricaded. Even the king could not get out. He climbed one of the towers of the wall and looked out upon the gory field, strewn with corpses, where his army _had been_, but was no more. He returned hastily to his palace, and met there the Prince of Anhalt, who, with a few fugitives, had succeeded in entering the city by one of the gates. The city now could not defend itself for an hour. The batteries of Ferdinand were beginning to play upon the walls, when Frederic sent out a flag of truce soliciting a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, that they might negotiate respecting peace. The peremptory reply returned was, that there should not be truce for a single moment, unless Frederic would renounce all pretension to the crown of Bohemia. With such a renunciation truce would be granted for eight hours. Frederic acceded to the demand, and the noise of war was hushed. CHAPTER XVII. FERDINAND II.