In this stately obscurity did Wallenstein silently, but not inactively,

await the hour of revenge. The victorious career of Gustavus Adolphus

soon gave him a presentiment of its approach. Not one of his lofty

schemes had been abandoned; and the Emperor’s ingratitude had loosened

the curb of his ambition. The dazzling splendour of his private life

bespoke high soaring projects; and, lavish as a king, he seemed already

to reckon among his certain possessions those which he contemplated with

hope.

After Wallenstein’s dismissal, and the invasion of Gustavus Adolphus, a

new generalissimo was to be appointed; and it now appeared advisable to

unite both the imperial army and that of the League under one general.

Maximilian of Bavaria sought this appointment, which would have enabled

him to dictate to the Emperor, who, from a conviction of this, wished to

procure the command for his eldest son, the King of Hungary. At last,

in order to avoid offence to either of the competitors, the appointment

was given to Tilly, who now exchanged the Bavarian for the Austrian

service. The imperial army in Germany, after the retirement of

Wallenstein, amounted to about 40,000 men; that of the League to nearly

the same number, both commanded by excellent officers, trained by the

experience of several campaigns, and proud of a long series of

victories. With such a force, little apprehension was felt at the

invasion of the King of Sweden, and the less so as it commanded both

Pomerania and Mecklenburg, the only countries through which he could

enter Germany.

After the unsuccessful attempt of the King of Denmark to check the

Emperor’s progress, Gustavus Adolphus was the only prince in Europe from

whom oppressed liberty could look for protection--the only one who,

while he was personally qualified to conduct such an enterprise, had

both political motives to recommend and wrongs to justify it. Before

the commencement of the war in Lower Saxony, important political

interests induced him, as well as the King of Denmark, to offer his

services and his army for the defence of Germany; but the offer of the

latter had, to his own misfortune, been preferred. Since that time,

Wallenstein and the Emperor had adopted measures which must have been

equally offensive to him as a man and as a king. Imperial troops had

been despatched to the aid of the Polish king, Sigismund, to defend

Prussia against the Swedes. When the king complained to Wallenstein of

this act of hostility, he received for answer, “The Emperor has more

soldiers than he wants for himself, he must help his friends.” The

Swedish ambassadors had been insolently ordered by Wallenstein to

withdraw from the conference at Lubeck; and when, unawed by this

command, they were courageous enough to remain, contrary to the law of

nations, he had threatened them with violence. Ferdinand had also

insulted the Swedish flag, and intercepted the king’s despatches to

Transylvania. He also threw every obstacle in the way of a peace

betwixt Poland and Sweden, supported the pretensions of Sigismund to the

Swedish throne, and denied the right of Gustavus to the title of king.

Deigning no regard to the repeated remonstrances of Gustavus, he rather

aggravated the offence by new grievances, than acceded the required

satisfaction.

So many personal motives, supported by important considerations, both of

policy and religion, and seconded by pressing invitations from Germany,

had their full weight with a prince, who was naturally the more jealous

of his royal prerogative the more it was questioned, who was flattered

by the glory he hoped to gain as Protector of the Oppressed, and

passionately loved war as the element of his genius. But, until a truce

or peace with Poland should set his hands free, a new and dangerous war

was not to be thought of.

Cardinal Richelieu had the merit of effecting this truce with Poland.

This great statesman, who guided the helm of Europe, while in France he

repressed the rage of faction and the insolence of the nobles, pursued

steadily, amidst the cares of a stormy administration, his plan of

lowering the ascendancy of the House of Austria. But circumstances

opposed considerable obstacles to the execution of his designs; and even

the greatest minds cannot, with impunity, defy the prejudices of the

age. The minister of a Roman Catholic king, and a Cardinal, he was

prevented by the purple he bore from joining the enemies of that church

in an open attack on a power which had the address to sanctify its

ambitious encroachments under the name of religion. The external

deference which Richelieu was obliged to pay to the narrow views of his

contemporaries limited his exertions to secret negociations, by which he

endeavoured to gain the hand of others to accomplish the enlightened

projects of his own mind. After a fruitless attempt to prevent the

peace between Denmark and the Emperor, he had recourse to Gustavus

Adolphus, the hero of his age. No exertion was spared to bring this

monarch to a favourable decision, and at the same time to facilitate the

execution of it. Charnasse, an unsuspected agent of the Cardinal,

proceeded to Polish Prussia, where Gustavus Adolphus was conducting the

war against Sigismund, and alternately visited these princes, in order

to persuade them to a truce or peace. Gustavus had been long inclined

to it, and the French minister succeeded at last in opening the eyes of

Sigismund to his true interests, and to the deceitful policy of the

Emperor. A truce for six years was agreed on, Gustavus being allowed to

retain all his conquests. This treaty gave him also what he had so long

desired, the liberty of directing his arms against the Emperor. For

this the French ambassador offered him the alliance of his sovereign and

considerable subsidies. But Gustavus Adolphus was justly apprehensive

lest the acceptance of the assistance should make him dependent upon

France, and fetter him in his career of conquest, while an alliance with

a Roman Catholic power might excite distrust among the Protestants.

If the war was just and necessary, the circumstances under which it was

undertaken were not less promising. The name of the Emperor, it is

true, was formidable, his resources inexhaustible, his power hitherto

invincible. So dangerous a contest would have dismayed any other than

Gustavus. He saw all the obstacles and dangers which opposed his

undertaking, but he knew also the means by which, as he hoped, they

might be conquered. His army, though not numerous, was well

disciplined, inured to hardship by a severe climate and campaigns, and

trained to victory in the war with Poland. Sweden, though poor in men

and money, and overtaxed by an eight years’ war, was devoted to its

monarch with an enthusiasm which assured him of the ready support of his

subjects. In Germany, the name of the Emperor was at least as much

hated as feared. The Protestant princes only awaited the arrival of a

deliverer to throw off his intolerable yoke, and openly declare for the

Swedes. Even the Roman Catholic states would welcome an antagonist to

the Emperor, whose opposition might control his overwhelming influence.

The first victory gained on German ground would be decisive. It would

encourage those princes who still hesitated to declare themselves,

strengthen the cause of his adherents, augment his troops, and open

resources for the maintenance of the campaign. If the greater part of

the German states were impoverished by oppression, the flourishing Hanse

towns had escaped, and they could not hesitate, by a small voluntary

sacrifice, to avert the general ruin. As the imperialists should be

driven from the different provinces, their armies would diminish, since

they were subsisting on the countries in which they were encamped. The

strength, too, of the Emperor had been lessened by ill-timed detachments

to Italy and the Netherlands; while Spain, weakened by the loss of the

Manilla galleons, and engaged in a serious war in the Netherlands, could

afford him little support. Great Britain, on the other hand, gave the

King of Sweden hope of considerable subsidies; and France, now at peace

with itself, came forward with the most favourable offers.

But the strongest pledge for the success of his undertaking Gustavus

found--in himself. Prudence demanded that he should embrace all the

foreign assistance he could, in order to guard his enterprise from the

imputation of rashness; but all his confidence and courage were entirely

derived from himself. He was indisputably the greatest general of his

age, and the bravest soldier in the army which he had formed. Familiar

with the tactics of Greece and Rome, he had discovered a more effective

system of warfare, which was adopted as a model by the most eminent

commanders of subsequent times. He reduced the unwieldy squadrons of

cavalry, and rendered their movements more light and rapid; and, with

the same view, he widened the intervals between his battalions. Instead

of the usual array in a single line, he disposed his forces in two

lines, that the second might advance in the event of the first giving

way.

He made up for his want of cavalry, by placing infantry among the horse;

a practice which frequently decided the victory. Europe first learned

from him the importance of infantry. All Germany was astonished at the

strict discipline which, at the first, so creditably distinguished the

Swedish army within their territories; all disorders were punished with

the utmost severity, particularly impiety, theft, gambling, and

duelling. The Swedish articles of war enforced frugality. In the camp,

the King’s tent not excepted, neither silver nor gold was to be seen.

The general’s eye looked as vigilantly to the morals as to the martial

bravery of his soldiers; every regiment was ordered to form round its

chaplain for morning and evening prayers. In all these points the

lawgiver was also an example. A sincere and ardent piety exalted his

courage. Equally free from the coarse infidelity which leaves the

passions of the barbarian without a control,--and from the grovelling

superstition of Ferdinand, who humbled himself to the dust before the

Supreme Being, while he haughtily trampled on his fellow-creature--in

the height of his success he was ever a man and a Christian--in the

height of his devotion, a king and a hero. The hardships of war he

shared with the meanest soldier in his army; maintained a calm serenity

amidst the hottest fury of battle; his glance was omnipresent, and he

intrepidly forgot the danger while he exposed himself to the greatest

peril. His natural courage, indeed, too often made him forget the duty

of a general; and the life of a king ended in the death of a common

soldier. But such a leader was followed to victory alike by the coward

and the brave, and his eagle glance marked every heroic deed which his

example had inspired. The fame of their sovereign excited in the nation

an enthusiastic sense of their own importance; proud of their king, the

peasant in Finland and Gothland joyfully contributed his pittance; the

soldier willingly shed his blood; and the lofty energy which his single

mind had imparted to the nation long survived its creator.

The necessity of the war was acknowledged, but the best plan of

conducting it was a matter of much question. Even to the bold

Chancellor Oxenstiern, an offensive war appeared too daring a measure;

the resources of his poor and conscientious master, appeared to him too

slender to compete with those of a despotic sovereign, who held all

Germany at his command. But the minister’s timid scruples were

overruled by the hero’s penetrating prudence. “If we await the enemy in

Sweden,” said Gustavus, “in the event of a defeat every thing would be

lost, by a fortunate commencement in Germany everything would be gained.

The sea is wide, and we have a long line of coast in Sweden to defend.

If the enemy’s fleet should escape us, or our own be defeated, it would,

in either case, be impossible to prevent the enemy’s landing. Every

thing depends on the retention of Stralsund. So long as this harbour is

open to us, we shall both command the Baltic, and secure a retreat from

Germany. But to protect this port, we must not remain in Sweden, but

advance at once into Pomerania. Let us talk no more, then, of a

defensive war, by which we should sacrifice our greatest advantages.

Sweden must not be doomed to behold a hostile banner; if we are

vanquished in Germany, it will be time enough to follow your plan.”

Gustavus resolved to cross the Baltic and attack the Emperor. His

preparations were made with the utmost expedition, and his precautionary

measures were not less prudent than the resolution itself was bold and

magnanimous. Before engaging in so distant a war, it was necessary to

secure Sweden against its neighbours. At a personal interview with the

King of Denmark at Markaroed, Gustavus assured himself of the friendship

of that monarch; his frontier on the side of Moscow was well guarded;

Poland might be held in check from Germany, if it betrayed any design of

infringing the truce. Falkenberg, a Swedish ambassador, who visited the

courts of Holland and Germany, obtained the most flattering promises

from several Protestant princes, though none of them yet possessed

courage or self-devotion enough to enter into a formal alliance with

him. Lubeck and Hamburg engaged to advance him money, and to accept

Swedish copper in return. Emissaries were also despatched to the Prince

of Transylvania, to excite that implacable enemy of Austria to arms.

In the mean time, Swedish levies were made in Germany and the

Netherlands, the regiments increased to their full complement, new ones

raised, transports provided, a fleet fitted out, provisions, military

stores, and money collected. Thirty ships of war were in a short time

prepared, 15,000 men equipped, and 200 transports were ready to convey

them across the Baltic. A greater force Gustavus Adolphus was unwilling

to carry into Germany, and even the maintenance of this exceeded the

revenues of his kingdom. But however small his army, it was admirable

in all points of discipline, courage, and experience, and might serve as

the nucleus of a more powerful armament, if it once gained the German

frontier, and its first attempts were attended with success.

Oxenstiern, at once general and chancellor, was posted with 10,000 men

in Prussia, to protect that province against Poland. Some regular

troops, and a considerable body of militia, which served as a nursery

for the main body, remained in Sweden, as a defence against a sudden

invasion by any treacherous neighbour.

These were the measures taken for the external defence of the kingdom.

Its internal administration was provided for with equal care. The

government was intrusted to the Council of State, and the finances to

the Palatine John Casimir, the brother-in-law of the King, while his

wife, tenderly as he was attached to her, was excluded from all share in

the government, for which her limited talents incapacitated her. He set

his house in order like a dying man. On the 20th May, 1630, when all

his measures were arranged, and all was ready for his departure, the

King appeared in the Diet at Stockholm, to bid the States a solemn

farewell. Taking in his arms his daughter Christina, then only four

years old, who, in the cradle, had been acknowledged as his successor,

he presented her to the States as the future sovereign, exacted from

them a renewal of the oath of allegiance to her, in case he should never

more return; and then read the ordinances for the government of the

kingdom during his absence, or the minority of his daughter. The whole

assembly was dissolved in tears, and the King himself was some time

before he could attain sufficient composure to deliver his farewell

address to the States.

“Not lightly or wantonly,” said he, “am I about to involve myself and

you in this new and dangerous war; God is my witness that _I_ do not

fight to gratify my own ambition. But the Emperor has wronged me most

shamefully in the person of my ambassadors. He has supported my

enemies, persecuted my friends and brethren, trampled my religion in the

dust, and even stretched his revengeful arm against my crown. The

oppressed states of Germany call loudly for aid, which, by God’s help,

we will give them.

“I am fully sensible of the dangers to which my life will be exposed. I

have never yet shrunk from them, nor is it likely that I shall escape

them all. Hitherto, Providence has wonderfully protected me, but I

shall at last fall in defence of my country. I commend you to the

protection of Heaven. Be just, be conscientious, act uprightly, and we

shall meet again in eternity.

“To you, my Counsellors of State, I address myself first. May God

enlighten you, and fill you with wisdom, to promote the welfare of my

people. You, too, my brave nobles, I commend to the divine protection.

Continue to prove yourselves the worthy successors of those Gothic

heroes, whose bravery humbled to the dust the pride of ancient Rome. To

you, ministers of religion, I recommend moderation and unity; be

yourselves examples of the virtues which you preach, and abuse not your

influence over the minds of my people. On you, deputies of the

burgesses, and the peasantry, I entreat the blessing of heaven; may your

industry be rewarded by a prosperous harvest; your stores plenteously

filled, and may you be crowned abundantly with all the blessings of this

life. For the prosperity of all my subjects, absent and present, I

offer my warmest prayers to Heaven. I bid you all a sincere--it may be

--an eternal farewell.”

The embarkation of the troops took place at Elfsknaben, where the fleet

lay at anchor. An immense concourse flocked thither to witness this

magnificent spectacle. The hearts of the spectators were agitated by

varied emotions, as they alternately considered the vastness of the

enterprise, and the greatness of the leader. Among the superior

officers who commanded in this army were Gustavus Horn, the Rhinegrave

Otto Lewis, Henry Matthias, Count Thurn, Ottenberg, Baudissen, Banner,

Teufel, Tott, Mutsenfahl, Falkenberg, Kniphausen, and other

distinguished names. Detained by contrary winds, the fleet did not sail

till June, and on the 24th of that month reached the Island of Rugen in

Pomerania.

Gustavus Adolphus was the first who landed. In the presence of his

suite, he knelt on the shore of Germany to return thanks to the Almighty

for the safe arrival of his fleet and his army. He landed his troops on

the Islands of Wollin and Usedom; upon his approach, the imperial

garrisons abandoned their entrenchments and fled. He advanced rapidly

on Stettin, to secure this important place before the appearance of the

Imperialists. Bogislaus XIV., Duke of Pomerania, a feeble and

superannuated prince, had been long tired out by the outrages committed

by the latter within his territories; but too weak to resist, he had

contented himself with murmurs. The appearance of his deliverer,

instead of animating his courage, increased his fear and anxiety.

Severely as his country had suffered from the Imperialists, the risk of

incurring the Emperor’s vengeance prevented him from declaring openly

for the Swedes. Gustavus Adolphus, who was encamped under the walls of

the town, summoned the city to receive a Swedish garrison. Bogislaus

appeared in person in the camp of Gustavus, to deprecate this condition.

“I come to you,” said Gustavus, “not as an enemy but a friend. I wage

no war against Pomerania, nor against the German empire, but against the

enemies of both. In my hands this duchy shall be sacred; and it shall

be restored to you at the conclusion of the campaign, by me, with more

certainty, than by any other. Look to the traces of the imperial force

within your territories, and to mine in Usedom; and decide whether you

will have the Emperor or me as your friend. What have you to expect, if

the Emperor should make himself master of your capital? Will he deal

with you more leniently than I? Or is it your intention to stop my

progress? The case is pressing: decide at once, and do not compel me

to have recourse to more violent measures.”

The alternative was a painful one. On the one side, the King of Sweden

was before his gates with a formidable army; on the other, he saw the

inevitable vengeance of the Emperor, and the fearful example of so many

German princes, who were now wandering in misery, the victims of that

revenge. The more immediate danger decided his resolution. The gates

of Stettin were opened to the king; the Swedish troops entered; and the

Austrians, who were advancing by rapid marches, anticipated. The

capture of this place procured for the king a firm footing in Pomerania,

the command of the Oder, and a magazine for his troops. To prevent a

charge of treachery, Bogislaus was careful to excuse this step to the

Emperor on the plea of necessity; but aware of Ferdinand’s implacable

disposition, he entered into a close alliance with his new protector.

By this league with Pomerania, Gustavus secured a powerful friend in

Germany, who covered his rear, and maintained his communication with

Sweden.

As Ferdinand was already the aggressor in Prussia, Gustavus Adolphus

thought himself absolved from the usual formalities, and commenced

hostilities without any declaration of war. To the other European

powers, he justified his conduct in a manifesto, in which he detailed

the grounds which had led him to take up arms. Meanwhile he continued

his progress in Pomerania, while he saw his army daily increasing. The

troops which had fought under Mansfeld, Duke Christian of Brunswick, the

King of Denmark, and Wallenstein, came in crowds, both officers and

soldiers, to join his victorious standard.

At the Imperial court, the invasion of the king of Sweden at first

excited far less attention than it merited. The pride of Austria,

extravagantly elated by its unheard-of successes, looked down with

contempt upon a prince, who, with a handful of men, came from an obscure

corner of Europe, and who owed his past successes, as they imagined,

entirely to the incapacity of a weak opponent. The depreciatory

representation which Wallenstein had artfully given of the Swedish

power, increased the Emperor’s security; for what had he to fear from an

enemy, whom his general undertook to drive with such ease from Germany?

Even the rapid progress of Gustavus Adolphus in Pomerania, could not

entirely dispel this prejudice, which the mockeries of the courtiers

continued to feed. He was called in Vienna the Snow King, whom the cold

of the north kept together, but who would infallibly melt as he advanced

southward. Even the electors, assembled in Ratisbon, disregarded his

representations; and, influenced by an abject complaisance to Ferdinand,

refused him even the title of king. But while they mocked him in

Ratisbon and Vienna, in Mecklenburg and Pomerania, one strong town after

another fell into his hands.

Notwithstanding this contempt, the Emperor thought it proper to offer to

adjust his differences with Sweden by negociation, and for that purpose

sent plenipotentiaries to Denmark. But their instructions showed how

little he was in earnest in these proposals, for he still continued to

refuse to Gustavus the title of king. He hoped by this means to throw

on the king of Sweden the odium of being the aggressor, and thereby to

ensure the support of the States of the empire. The conference at

Dantzic proved, as might be expected, fruitless, and the animosity of

both parties was increased to its utmost by an intemperate

correspondence.

An imperial general, Torquato Conti, who commanded in Pomerania, had, in

the mean time, made a vain attempt to wrest Stettin from the Swedes.

The Imperialists were driven out from one place after another; Damm,

Stargard, Camin, and Wolgast, soon fell into the hands of Gustavus. To

revenge himself upon the Duke of Pomerania, the imperial general

permitted his troops, upon his retreat, to exercise every barbarity on

the unfortunate inhabitants of Pomerania, who had already suffered but

too severely from his avarice. On pretence of cutting off the resources

of the Swedes, the whole country was laid waste and plundered; and often

when the Imperialists were unable any longer to maintain a place, it was

laid in ashes, in order to leave the enemy nothing but ruins. But these

barbarities only served to place in a more favourable light the opposite

conduct of the Swedes, and to win all hearts to their humane monarch.

The Swedish soldier paid for all he required; no private property was

injured on his march. The Swedes consequently were received with open

arms both in town and country, whilst every Imperialist that fell into

the hands of the Pomeranian peasantry was ruthlessly murdered. Many

Pomeranians entered into the service of Sweden, and the estates of this

exhausted country willingly voted the king a contribution of 100,000

florins.

Torquato Conti, who, with all his severity of character, was a

consummate general, endeavoured to render Stettin useless to the king of

Sweden, as he could not deprive him of it. He entrenched himself upon

the Oder, at Gartz, above Stettin, in order, by commanding that river,

to cut off the water communication of the town with the rest of Germany.

Nothing could induce him to attack the King of Sweden, who was his

superior in numbers, while the latter was equally cautious not to storm

the strong entrenchments of the Imperialists. Torquato, too deficient

in troops and money to act upon the offensive against the king, hoped by

this plan of operations to give time for Tilly to hasten to the defence

of Pomerania, and then, in conjunction with that general, to attack the

Swedes. Seizing the opportunity of the temporary absence of Gustavus,

he made a sudden attempt upon Stettin, but the Swedes were not

unprepared for him. A vigorous attack of the Imperialists was firmly

repulsed, and Torquato was forced to retire with great loss. For this

auspicious commencement of the war, however, Gustavus was, it must be

owned, as much indebted to his good fortune as to his military talents.

The imperial troops in Pomerania had been greatly reduced since

Wallenstein’s dismissal; moreover, the outrages they had committed were

now severely revenged upon them; wasted and exhausted, the country no

longer afforded them a subsistence. All discipline was at an end; the

orders of the officers were disregarded, while their numbers daily

decreased by desertion, and by a general mortality, which the piercing

cold of a strange climate had produced among them.

Under these circumstances, the imperial general was anxious to allow his

troops the repose of winter quarters, but he had to do with an enemy to

whom the climate of Germany had no winter. Gustavus had taken the

precaution of providing his soldiers with dresses of sheep-skin, to

enable them to keep the field even in the most inclement season. The

imperial plenipotentiaries, who came to treat with him for a cessation

of hostilities, received this discouraging answer: “The Swedes are

soldiers in winter as well as in summer, and not disposed to oppress the

unfortunate peasantry. The Imperialists may act as they think proper,

but they need not expect to remain undisturbed.” Torquato Conti soon

after resigned a command, in which neither riches nor reputation were to

be gained.

In this inequality of the two armies, the advantage was necessarily on

the side of the Swedes. The Imperialists were incessantly harassed in

their winter quarters; Greifenhagan, an important place upon the Oder,

taken by storm, and the towns of Gartz and Piritz were at last abandoned

by the enemy. In the whole of Pomerania, Greifswald, Demmin, and

Colberg alone remained in their hands, and these the king made great

preparations to besiege. The enemy directed their retreat towards

Brandenburg, in which much of their artillery and baggage, and many

prisoners fell into the hands of the pursuers.

By seizing the passes of Riebnitz and Damgarden, Gustavus had opened a

passage into Mecklenburg, whose inhabitants were invited to return to

their allegiance under their legitimate sovereigns, and to expel the

adherents of Wallenstein. The Imperialists, however, gained the

important town of Rostock by stratagem, and thus prevented the farther

advance of the king, who was unwilling to divide his forces. The exiled

dukes of Mecklenburg had ineffectually employed the princes assembled at

Ratisbon to intercede with the Emperor: in vain they had endeavoured to

soften Ferdinand, by renouncing the alliance of the king, and every idea

of resistance. But, driven to despair by the Emperor’s inflexibility,

they openly espoused the side of Sweden, and raising troops, gave the

command of them to Francis Charles Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg. That general

made himself master of several strong places on the Elbe, but lost them

afterwards to the Imperial General Pappenheim, who was despatched to

oppose him. Soon afterwards, besieged by the latter in the town of

Ratzeburg, he was compelled to surrender with all his troops. Thus

ended the attempt which these unfortunate princes made to recover their

territories; and it was reserved for the victorious arm of Gustavus

Adolphus to render them that brilliant service.

The Imperialists had thrown themselves into Brandenburg, which now

became the theatre of the most barbarous atrocities. These outrages

were inflicted upon the subjects of a prince who had never injured the

Emperor, and whom, moreover, he was at the very time inciting to take up

arms against the King of Sweden. The sight of the disorders of their

soldiers, which want of money compelled them to wink at, and of

authority over their troops, excited the disgust even of the imperial

generals; and, from very shame, their commander-in-chief, Count

Schaumburg, wished to resign.

Without a sufficient force to protect his territories, and left by the

Emperor, in spite of the most pressing remonstrances, without

assistance, the Elector of Brandenburg at last issued an edict, ordering

his subjects to repel force by force, and to put to death without mercy

every Imperial soldier who should henceforth be detected in plundering.

To such a height had the violence of outrage and the misery of the

government risen, that nothing was left to the sovereign, but the

desperate extremity of sanctioning private vengeance by a formal law.

The Swedes had pursued the Imperialists into Brandenburg; and only the

Elector’s refusal to open to him the fortress of Custrin for his march,

obliged the king to lay aside his design of besieging Frankfort on the

Oder. He therefore returned to complete the conquest of Pomerania, by

the capture of Demmin and Colberg. In the mean time, Field-Marshal

Tilly was advancing to the defence of Brandenburg.

This general, who could boast as yet of never having suffered a defeat,

the conqueror of Mansfeld, of Duke Christian of Brunswick, of the

Margrave of Baden, and the King of Denmark, was now in the Swedish

monarch to meet an opponent worthy of his fame. Descended of a noble

family in Liege, Tilly had formed his military talents in the wars of

the Netherlands, which was then the great school for generals. He soon

found an opportunity of distinguishing himself under Rodolph II. in

Hungary, where he rapidly rose from one step to another. After the

peace, he entered into the service of Maximilian of Bavaria, who made

him commander-in-chief with absolute powers. Here, by his excellent

regulations, he was the founder of the Bavarian army; and to him,

chiefly, Maximilian was indebted for his superiority in the field. Upon

the termination of the Bohemian war, he was appointed commander of the

troops of the League; and, after Wallenstein’s dismissal, generalissimo

of the imperial armies. Equally stern towards his soldiers and

implacable towards his enemies, and as gloomy and impenetrable as

Wallenstein, he was greatly his superior in probity and

disinterestedness. A bigoted zeal for religion, and a bloody spirit of

persecution, co-operated, with the natural ferocity of his character, to

make him the terror of the Protestants. A strange and terrific aspect

bespoke his character: of low stature, thin, with hollow cheeks, a long

nose, a broad and wrinkled forehead, large whiskers, and a pointed chin;

he was generally attired in a Spanish doublet of green satin, with

slashed sleeves, with a small high peaked hat upon his head, surmounted

by a red feather which hung down to his back. His whole aspect recalled

to recollection the Duke of Alva, the scourge of the Flemings, and his

actions were far from effacing the impression. Such was the general who

was now to be opposed to the hero of the north.

Tilly was far from undervaluing his antagonist, “The King of Sweden,”

said he in the Diet at Ratisbon, “is an enemy both prudent and brave,

inured to war, and in the flower of his age. His plans are excellent,

his resources considerable; his subjects enthusiastically attached to

him. His army, composed of Swedes, Germans, Livonians, Finlanders,

Scots and English, by its devoted obedience to their leader, is blended

into one nation: he is a gamester in playing with whom not to have lost

is to have won a great deal.”

The progress of the King of Sweden in Brandenburg and Pomerania, left

the new generalissimo no time to lose; and his presence was now urgently

called for by those who commanded in that quarter. With all expedition,

he collected the imperial troops which were dispersed over the empire;

but it required time to obtain from the exhausted and impoverished

provinces the necessary supplies. At last, about the middle of winter,

he appeared at the head of 20,000 men, before Frankfort on the Oder,

where he was joined by Schaumburg. Leaving to this general the defence

of Frankfort, with a sufficient garrison, he hastened to Pomerania, with

a view of saving Demmin, and relieving Colberg, which was already hard

pressed by the Swedes. But even before he had left Brandenburg, Demmin,

which was but poorly defended by the Duke of Savelli, had surrendered to

the king, and Colberg, after a five months’ siege, was starved into a

capitulation. As the passes in Upper Pomerania were well guarded, and

the king’s camp near Schwedt defied attack, Tilly abandoned his

offensive plan of operations, and retreated towards the Elbe to besiege

Magdeburg.

The capture of Demmin opened to the king a free passage into

Mecklenburg; but a more important enterprise drew his arms into another

quarter. Scarcely had Tilly commenced his retrograde movement, when

suddenly breaking up his camp at Schwedt, the king marched his whole

force against Frankfort on the Oder. This town, badly fortified, was

defended by a garrison of 8,000 men, mostly composed of those ferocious

bands who had so cruelly ravaged Pomerania and Brandenburg. It was now

attacked with such impetuosity, that on the third day it was taken by

storm. The Swedes, assured of victory, rejected every offer of

capitulation, as they were resolved to exercise the dreadful right of

retaliation. For Tilly, soon after his arrival, had surrounded a

Swedish detachment, and, irritated by their obstinate resistance, had

cut them in pieces to a man. This cruelty was not forgotten by the

Swedes. “New Brandenburg Quarter”, they replied to the Imperialists who

begged their lives, and slaughtered them without mercy. Several

thousands were either killed or taken, and many were drowned in the

Oder, the rest fled to Silesia. All their artillery fell into the hands

of the Swedes. To satisfy the rage of his troops, Gustavus Adolphus was

under the necessity of giving up the town for three hours to plunder.

While the king was thus advancing from one conquest to another, and, by

his success, encouraging the Protestants to active resistance, the

Emperor proceeded to enforce the Edict of Restitution, and, by his

exorbitant pretensions, to exhaust the patience of the states.

Compelled by necessity, he continued the violent course which he had

begun with such arrogant confidence; the difficulties into which his

arbitrary conduct had plunged him, he could only extricate himself from

by measures still more arbitrary. But in so complicated a body as the

German empire, despotism must always create the most dangerous

convulsions. With astonishment, the princes beheld the constitution of

the empire overthrown, and the state of nature to which matters were

again verging, suggested to them the idea of self-defence, the only

means of protection in such a state of things. The steps openly taken

by the Emperor against the Lutheran church, had at last removed the veil

from the eyes of John George, who had been so long the dupe of his

artful policy. Ferdinand, too, had personally offended him by the

exclusion of his son from the archbishopric of Magdeburg; and

field-marshal Arnheim, his new favourite and minister, spared no pains

to increase the resentment of his master. Arnheim had formerly been an

imperial general under Wallenstein, and being still zealously attached

to him, he was eager to avenge his old benefactor and himself on the

Emperor, by detaching Saxony from the Austrian interests. Gustavus

Adolphus, supported by the Protestant states, would be invincible; a

consideration which already filled the Emperor with alarm. The example

of Saxony would probably influence others, and the Emperor’s fate seemed

now in a manner to depend upon the Elector’s decision. The artful

favourite impressed upon his master this idea of his own importance, and

advised him to terrify the Emperor, by threatening an alliance with

Sweden, and thus to extort from his fears, what he had sought in vain

from his gratitude. The favourite, however, was far from wishing him

actually to enter into the Swedish alliance, but, by holding aloof from

both parties, to maintain his own importance and independence.

Accordingly, he laid before him a plan, which only wanted a more able

hand to carry it into execution, and recommended him, by heading the

Protestant party, to erect a third power in Germany, and thereby

maintain the balance between Sweden and Austria.

This project was peculiarly flattering to the Saxon Elector, to whom the

idea of being dependent upon Sweden, or of longer submitting to the

tyranny of the Emperor, was equally hateful. He could not, with

indifference, see the control of German affairs wrested from him by a

foreign prince; and incapable as he was of taking a principal part, his

vanity would not condescend to act a subordinate one. He resolved,

therefore, to draw every possible advantage from the progress of

Gustavus, but to pursue, independently, his own separate plans. With

this view, he consulted with the Elector of Brandenburg, who, from

similar causes, was ready to act against the Emperor, but, at the same

time, was jealous of Sweden. In a Diet at Torgau, having assured

himself of the support of his Estates, he invited the Protestant States

of the empire to a general convention, which took place at Leipzig, on

the 6th February 1631. Brandenburg, Hesse Cassel, with several princes,

counts, estates of the empire, and Protestant bishops were present,

either personally or by deputy, at this assembly, which the chaplain to

the Saxon Court, Dr. Hoe von Hohenegg, opened with a vehement discourse

from the pulpit. The Emperor had, in vain, endeavoured to prevent this

self-appointed convention, whose object was evidently to provide for its

own defence, and which the presence of the Swedes in the empire,

rendered more than usually alarming. Emboldened by the progress of

Gustavus Adolphus, the assembled princes asserted their rights, and

after a session of two months broke up, with adopting a resolution which

placed the Emperor in no slight embarrassment. Its import was to demand

of the Emperor, in a general address, the revocation of the Edict of

Restitution, the withdrawal of his troops from their capitals and

fortresses, the suspension of all existing proceedings, and the

abolition of abuses; and, in the mean time, to raise an army of 40,000

men, to enable them to redress their own grievances, if the Emperor

should still refuse satisfaction.

A further incident contributed not a little to increase the firmness of

the Protestant princes. The King of Sweden had, at last, overcome the

scruples which had deterred him from a closer alliance with France, and,

on the 13th January 1631, concluded a formal treaty with this crown.

After a serious dispute respecting the treatment of the Roman Catholic

princes of the empire, whom France took under her protection, and

against whom Gustavus claimed the right of retaliation, and after some

less important differences with regard to the title of majesty, which

the pride of France was loth to concede to the King of Sweden, Richelieu

yielded the second, and Gustavus Adolphus the first point, and the

treaty was signed at Beerwald in Neumark. The contracting parties

mutually covenanted to defend each other with a military force, to

protect their common friends, to restore to their dominions the deposed

princes of the empire, and to replace every thing, both on the frontier

and in the interior of Germany, on the same footing on which it stood

before the commencement of the war. For this end, Sweden engaged to

maintain an army of 30,000 men in Germany, and France agreed to furnish

the Swedes with an annual subsidy of 400,000 dollars. If the arms of

Gustavus were successful, he was to respect the Roman Catholic religion

and the constitution of the empire in all the conquered places, and to

make no attempt against either. All Estates and princes whether

Protestant or Roman Catholic, either in Germany or in other countries,

were to be invited to become parties to the treaty; neither France nor

Sweden was to conclude a separate peace without the knowledge and

consent of the other; and the treaty itself was to continue in force for

five years.

Great as was the struggle to the King of Sweden to receive subsidies

from France, and sacrifice his independence in the conduct of the war,

this alliance with France decided his cause in Germany. Protected, as

he now was, by the greatest power in Europe, the German states began to

feel confidence in his undertaking, for the issue of which they had

hitherto good reason to tremble. He became truly formidable to the

Emperor. The Roman Catholic princes too, who, though they were anxious

to humble Austria, had witnessed his progress with distrust, were less

alarmed now that an alliance with a Roman Catholic power ensured his

respect for their religion. And thus, while Gustavus Adolphus protected

the Protestant religion and the liberties of Germany against the

aggression of Ferdinand, France secured those liberties, and the Roman

Catholic religion, against Gustavus himself, if the intoxication of

success should hurry him beyond the bounds of moderation.

The King of Sweden lost no time in apprizing the members of the

confederacy of Leipzig of the treaty concluded with France, and inviting

them to a closer union with himself. The application was seconded by

France, who spared no pains to win over the Elector of Saxony. Gustavus

was willing to be content with secret support, if the princes should

deem it too bold a step as yet to declare openly in his favour. Several

princes gave him hopes of his proposals being accepted on the first

favourable opportunity; but the Saxon Elector, full of jealousy and

distrust towards the King of Sweden, and true to the selfish policy he

had pursued, could not be prevailed upon to give a decisive answer.

The resolution of the confederacy of Leipzig, and the alliance betwixt

France and Sweden, were news equally disagreeable to the Emperor.

Against them he employed the thunder of imperial ordinances, and the

want of an army saved France from the full weight of his displeasure.

Remonstrances were addressed to all the members of the confederacy,

strongly prohibiting them from enlisting troops. They retorted with

explanations equally vehement, justified their conduct upon the

principles of natural right, and continued their preparations.

Meantime, the imperial generals, deficient both in troops and money,

found themselves reduced to the disagreeable alternative of losing sight

either of the King of Sweden, or of the Estates of the empire, since

with a divided force they were not a match for either. The movements of

the Protestants called their attention to the interior of the empire,

while the progress of the king in Brandenburg, by threatening the

hereditary possessions of Austria, required them to turn their arms to

that quarter. After the conquest of Frankfort, the king had advanced

upon Landsberg on the Warta, and Tilly, after a fruitless attempt to

relieve it, had again returned to Magdeburg, to prosecute with vigour

the siege of that town.

The rich archbishopric, of which Magdeburg was the capital, had long

been in the possession of princes of the house of Brandenburg, who

introduced the Protestant religion into the province. Christian

William, the last administrator, had, by his alliance with Denmark,

incurred the ban of the empire, on which account the chapter, to avoid

the Emperor’s displeasure, had formally deposed him. In his place they

had elected Prince John Augustus, the second son of the Elector of

Saxony, whom the Emperor rejected, in order to confer the archbishopric

on his son Leopold. The Elector of Saxony complained ineffectually to

the imperial court; but Christian William of Brandenburg took more

active measures. Relying on the attachment of the magistracy and

inhabitants of Brandenburg, and excited by chimerical hopes, he thought

himself able to surmount all the obstacles which the vote of the

chapter, the competition of two powerful rivals, and the Edict of

Restitution opposed to his restoration. He went to Sweden, and, by the

promise of a diversion in Germany, sought to obtain assistance from

Gustavus. He was dismissed by that monarch not without hopes of

effectual protection, but with the advice to act with caution.

Scarcely had Christian William been informed of the landing of his

protector in Pomerania, than he entered Magdeburg in disguise.

Appearing suddenly in the town council, he reminded the magistrates of

the ravages which both town and country had suffered from the imperial

troops, of the pernicious designs of Ferdinand, and the danger of the

Protestant church. He then informed them that the moment of deliverance

was at hand, and that Gustavus Adolphus offered them his alliance and

assistance. Magdeburg, one of the most flourishing towns in Germany,

enjoyed under the government of its magistrates a republican freedom,

which inspired its citizens with a brave heroism. Of this they had

already given proofs, in the bold defence of their rights against

Wallenstein, who, tempted by their wealth, made on them the most

extravagant demands. Their territory had been given up to the fury of

his troops, though Magdeburg itself had escaped his vengeance. It was

not difficult, therefore, for the Administrator to gain the concurrence

of men in whose minds the rememberance of these outrages was still

recent. An alliance was formed between the city and the Swedish king,

by which Magdeburg granted to the king a free passage through its gates

and territories, with liberty of enlisting soldiers within its

boundaries, and on the other hand, obtained promises of effectual

protection for its religion and its privileges.

The Administrator immediately collected troops and commenced

hostilities, before Gustavus Adolphus was near enough to co-operate with

him. He defeated some imperial detachments in the neighbourhood, made a

few conquests, and even surprised Halle. But the approach of an

imperial army obliged him to retreat hastily, and not without loss, to

Magdeburg. Gustavus Adolphus, though displeased with his premature

measures, sent Dietrich Falkenberg, an experienced officer, to direct

the Administrator’s military operations, and to assist him with his

counsel. Falkenberg was named by the magistrates governor of the town

during the war. The Prince’s army was daily augmented by recruits from

the neighbouring towns; and he was able for some months to maintain a

petty warfare with success.

At length Count Pappenheim, having brought his expedition against the

Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg to a close, approached the town. Driving the

troops of the Administrator from their entrenchments, he cut off his

communication with Saxony, and closely invested the place. He was soon

followed by Tilly, who haughtily summoned the Elector forthwith to

comply with the Edict of Restitution, to submit to the Emperor’s orders,

and surrender Magdeburg. The Prince’s answer was spirited and resolute,

and obliged Tilly at once to have recourse to arms.

In the meanwhile, the siege was prolonged, by the progress of the King

of Sweden, which called the Austrian general from before the place; and

the jealousy of the officers, who conducted the operations in his

absence, delayed, for some months, the fall of Magdeburg. On the 30th

March 1631, Tilly returned, to push the siege with vigour.

The outworks were soon carried, and Falkenberg, after withdrawing the

garrisons from the points which he could no longer hold, destroyed the

bridge over the Elbe. As his troops were barely sufficient to defend

the extensive fortifications, the suburbs of Sudenburg and Neustadt were

abandoned to the enemy, who immediately laid them in ashes. Pappenheim,

now separated from Tilly, crossed the Elbe at Schonenbeck, and attacked

the town from the opposite side.

The garrison, reduced by the defence of the outworks, scarcely exceeded

2000 infantry and a few hundred horse; a small number for so extensive

and irregular a fortress. To supply this deficiency, the citizens were

armed--a desperate expedient, which produced more evils than those it

prevented. The citizens, at best but indifferent soldiers, by their

disunion threw the town into confusion. The poor complained that they

were exposed to every hardship and danger, while the rich, by hiring

substitutes, remained at home in safety. These rumours broke out at

last in an open mutiny; indifference succeeded to zeal; weariness and

negligence took the place of vigilance and foresight. Dissension,

combined with growing scarcity, gradually produced a feeling of

despondence, many began to tremble at the desperate nature of their

undertaking, and the magnitude of the power to which they were opposed.

But religious zeal, an ardent love of liberty, an invincible hatred to

the Austrian yoke, and the expectation of speedy relief, banished as yet

the idea of a surrender; and divided as they were in every thing else,

they were united in the resolve to defend themselves to the last

extremity.

Their hopes of succour were apparently well founded. They knew that the

confederacy of Leipzig was arming; they were aware of the near approach

of Gustavus Adolphus. Both were alike interested in the preservation of

Magdeburg; and a few days might bring the King of Sweden before its

walls. All this was also known to Tilly, who, therefore, was anxious to

make himself speedily master of the place. With this view, he had

despatched a trumpeter with letters to the Administrator, the

commandant, and the magistrates, offering terms of capitulation; but he

received for answer, that they would rather die than surrender. A

spirited sally of the citizens, also convinced him that their courage

was as earnest as their words, while the king’s arrival at Potsdam, with

the incursions of the Swedes as far as Zerbst, filled him with

uneasiness, but raised the hopes of the garrison. A second trumpeter

was now despatched; but the more moderate tone of his demands increased

the confidence of the besieged, and unfortunately their negligence also.

The besiegers had now pushed their approaches as far as the ditch, and

vigorously cannonaded the fortifications from the abandoned batteries.

One tower was entirely overthrown, but this did not facilitate an

assault, as it fell sidewise upon the wall, and not into the ditch.

Notwithstanding the continual bombardment, the walls had not suffered

much; and the fire balls, which were intended to set the town in flames,

were deprived of their effect by the excellent precautions adopted

against them. But the ammunition of the besieged was nearly expended,

and the cannon of the town gradually ceased to answer the fire of the

Imperialists. Before a new supply could be obtained, Magdeburg would be

either relieved, or taken. The hopes of the besieged were on the

stretch, and all eyes anxiously directed towards the quarter in which

the Swedish banners were expected to appear. Gustavus Adolphus was near

enough to reach Magdeburg within three days; security grew with hope,

which all things contributed to augment. On the 9th of May, the fire of

the Imperialists was suddenly stopped, and the cannon withdrawn from

several of the batteries. A deathlike stillness reigned in the Imperial

camp. The besieged were convinced that deliverance was at hand. Both

citizens and soldiers left their posts upon the ramparts early in the

morning, to indulge themselves, after their long toils, with the

refreshment of sleep, but it was indeed a dear sleep, and a frightful

awakening.

Tilly had abandoned the hope of taking the town, before the arrival of

the Swedes, by the means which he had hitherto adopted; he therefore

determined to raise the siege, but first to hazard a general assault.

This plan, however, was attended with great difficulties, as no breach

had been effected, and the works were scarcely injured. But the council

of war assembled on this occasion, declared for an assault, citing the

example of Maestricht, which had been taken early in the morning, while

the citizens and soldiers were reposing themselves. The attack was to

be made simultaneously on four points; the night betwixt the 9th and

10th of May, was employed in the necessary preparations. Every thing

was ready and awaiting the signal, which was to be given by cannon at

five o’clock in the morning. The signal, however, was not given for two

hours later, during which Tilly, who was still doubtful of success,

again consulted the council of war. Pappenheim was ordered to attack

the works of the new town, where the attempt was favoured by a sloping

rampart, and a dry ditch of moderate depth. The citizens and soldiers

had mostly left the walls, and the few who remained were overcome with

sleep. This general, therefore, found little difficulty in mounting the

wall at the head of his troops.

Falkenberg, roused by the report of musketry, hastened from the

town-house, where he was employed in despatching Tilly’s second

trumpeter, and hurried with all the force he could hastily assemble

towards the gate of the new town, which was already in the possession of

the enemy. Beaten back, this intrepid general flew to another quarter,

where a second party of the enemy were preparing to scale the walls.

After an ineffectual resistance he fell in the commencement of the

action. The roaring of musketry, the pealing of the alarm-bells, and

the growing tumult apprised the awakening citizens of their danger.

Hastily arming themselves, they rushed in blind confusion against the

enemy. Still some hope of repulsing the besiegers remained; but the

governor being killed, their efforts were without plan and co-operation,

and at last their ammunition began to fail them. In the meanwhile, two

other gates, hitherto unattacked, were stripped of their defenders, to

meet the urgent danger within the town. The enemy quickly availed

themselves of this confusion to attack these posts. The resistance was

nevertheless spirited and obstinate, until four imperial regiments, at

length, masters of the ramparts, fell upon the garrison in the rear, and

completed their rout. Amidst the general tumult, a brave captain, named

Schmidt, who still headed a few of the more resolute against the enemy,

succeeded in driving them to the gates; here he fell mortally wounded,

and with him expired the hopes of Magdeburg. Before noon, all the works

were carried, and the town was in the enemy’s hands.

Two gates were now opened by the storming party for the main body, and

Tilly marched in with part of his infantry. Immediately occupying the

principal streets, he drove the citizens with pointed cannon into their

dwellings, there to await their destiny. They were not long held in

suspense; a word from Tilly decided the fate of Magdeburg.

Even a more humane general would in vain have recommended mercy to such

soldiers; but Tilly never made the attempt. Left by their general’s

silence masters of the lives of all the citizens, the soldiery broke

into the houses to satiate their most brutal appetites. The prayers of

innocence excited some compassion in the hearts of the Germans, but none

in the rude breasts of Pappenheim’s Walloons. Scarcely had the savage

cruelty commenced, when the other gates were thrown open, and the

cavalry, with the fearful hordes of the Croats, poured in upon the

devoted inhabitants.

Here commenced a scene of horrors for which history has no language--

poetry no pencil. Neither innocent childhood, nor helpless old age;

neither youth, sex, rank, nor beauty, could disarm the fury of the

conquerors. Wives were abused in the arms of their husbands, daughters

at the feet of their parents; and the defenceless sex exposed to the

double sacrifice of virtue and life. No situation, however obscure, or

however sacred, escaped the rapacity of the enemy. In a single church

fifty-three women were found beheaded. The Croats amused themselves

with throwing children into the flames; Pappenheim’s Walloons with

stabbing infants at the mother’s breast. Some officers of the League,

horror-struck at this dreadful scene, ventured to remind Tilly that he

had it in his power to stop the carnage. “Return in an hour,” was his

answer; “I will see what I can do; the soldier must have some reward for

his danger and toils.” These horrors lasted with unabated fury, till at

last the smoke and flames proved a check to the plunderers. To augment

the confusion and to divert the resistance of the inhabitants, the

Imperialists had, in the commencement of the assault, fired the town in

several places. The wind rising rapidly, spread the flames, till the

blaze became universal. Fearful, indeed, was the tumult amid clouds of

smoke, heaps of dead bodies, the clash of swords, the crash of falling

ruins, and streams of blood. The atmosphere glowed; and the intolerable

heat forced at last even the murderers to take refuge in their camp. In

less than twelve hours, this strong, populous, and flourishing city, one

of the finest in Germany, was reduced to ashes, with the exception of

two churches and a few houses. The Administrator, Christian William,

after receiving several wounds, was taken prisoner, with three of the

burgomasters; most of the officers and magistrates had already met an

enviable death. The avarice of the officers had saved 400 of the

richest citizens, in the hope of extorting from them an exorbitant

ransom. But this humanity was confined to the officers of the League,

whom the ruthless barbarity of the Imperialists caused to be regarded as

guardian angels.

Scarcely had the fury of the flames abated, when the Imperialists

returned to renew the pillage amid the ruins and ashes of the town.

Many were suffocated by the smoke; many found rich booty in the cellars,

where the citizens had concealed their more valuable effects. On the

13th of May, Tilly himself appeared in the town, after the streets had

been cleared of ashes and dead bodies. Horrible and revolting to

humanity was the scene that presented itself. The living crawling from

under the dead, children wandering about with heart-rending cries,

calling for their parents; and infants still sucking the breasts of

their lifeless mothers. More than 6,000 bodies were thrown into the

Elbe to clear the streets; a much greater number had been consumed by

the flames. The whole number of the slain was reckoned at not less than

30,000.

The entrance of the general, which took place on the 14th, put a stop to

the plunder, and saved the few who had hitherto contrived to escape.

About a thousand people were taken out of the cathedral, where they had

remained three days and two nights, without food, and in momentary fear

of death. Tilly promised them quarter, and commanded bread to be

distributed among them. The next day, a solemn mass was performed in

the cathedral, and ‘Te Deum’ sung amidst the discharge of artillery.

The imperial general rode through the streets, that he might be able, as

an eyewitness, to inform his master that no such conquest had been made

since the destruction of Troy and Jerusalem. Nor was this an

exaggeration, whether we consider the greatness, importance, and

prosperity of the city razed, or the fury of its ravagers.

In Germany, the tidings of the dreadful fate of Magdeburg caused

triumphant joy to the Roman Catholics, while it spread terror and

consternation among the Protestants. Loudly and generally they

complained against the king of Sweden, who, with so strong a force, and

in the very neighbourhood, had left an allied city to its fate. Even

the most reasonable deemed his inaction inexplicable; and lest he should

lose irretrievably the good will of the people, for whose deliverance he

had engaged in this war, Gustavus was under the necessity of publishing

to the world a justification of his own conduct.

He had attacked, and on the 16th April, carried Landsberg, when he was

apprised of the danger of Magdeburg. He resolved immediately to march

to the relief of that town; and he moved with all his cavalry, and ten

regiments of infantry towards the Spree. But the position which he held

in Germany, made it necessary that he should not move forward without

securing his rear. In traversing a country where he was surrounded by

suspicious friends and dangerous enemies, and where a single premature

movement might cut off his communication with his own kingdom, the

utmost vigilance and caution were necessary. The Elector of Brandenburg

had already opened the fortress of Custrin to the flying Imperialists,

and closed the gates against their pursuers. If now Gustavus should

fail in his attack upon Tilly, the Elector might again open his

fortresses to the Imperialists, and the king, with an enemy both in

front and rear, would be irrecoverably lost. In order to prevent this

contingency, he demanded that the Elector should allow him to hold the

fortresses of Custrin and Spandau, till the siege of Magdeburg should be

raised.

Nothing could be more reasonable than this demand. The services which

Gustavus had lately rendered the Elector, by expelling the Imperialists

from Brandenburg, claimed his gratitude, while the past conduct of the

Swedes in Germany entitled them to confidence. But by the surrender of

his fortresses, the Elector would in some measure make the King of

Sweden master of his country; besides that, by such a step, he must at

once break with the Emperor, and expose his States to his future

vengeance. The Elector’s struggle with himself was long and violent,

but pusillanimity and self-interest for awhile prevailed. Unmoved by

the fate of Magdeburg, cold in the cause of religion and the liberties

of Germany, he saw nothing but his own danger; and this anxiety was

greatly stimulated by his minister Von Schwartzenburgh, who was secretly

in the pay of Austria. In the mean time, the Swedish troops approached

Berlin, and the king took up his residence with the Elector. When he

witnessed the timorous hesitation of that prince, he could not restrain

his indignation: “My road is to Magdeburg,” said he; “not for my own

advantage, but for that of the Protestant religion. If no one will

stand by me, I shall immediately retreat, conclude a peace with the

Emperor, and return to Stockholm. I am convinced that Ferdinand will

readily grant me whatever conditions I may require. But if Magdeburg is

once lost, and the Emperor relieved from all fear of me, then it is for

you to look to yourselves and the consequences.” This timely threat, and

perhaps, too, the aspect of the Swedish army, which was strong enough to

obtain by force what was refused to entreaty, brought at last the

Elector to his senses, and Spandau was delivered into the hands of the

Swedes.

The king had now two routes to Magdeburg; one westward led through an

exhausted country, and filled with the enemy’s troops, who might dispute

with him the passage of the Elbe; the other more to the southward, by

Dessau and Wittenberg, where bridges were to be found for crossing the

Elbe, and where supplies could easily be drawn from Saxony. But he

could not avail himself of the latter without the consent of the

Elector, whom Gustavus had good reason to distrust. Before setting out

on his march, therefore, he demanded from that prince a free passage and

liberty for purchasing provisions for his troops. His application was

refused, and no remonstrances could prevail on the Elector to abandon

his system of neutrality. While the point was still in dispute, the

news of the dreadful fate of Magdeburg arrived.

Tilly announced its fall to the Protestant princes in the tone of a

conqueror, and lost no time in making the most of the general

consternation. The influence of the Emperor, which had sensibly

declined during the rapid progress of Gustavus, after this decisive blow

rose higher than ever; and the change was speedily visible in the

imperious tone he adopted towards the Protestant states. The decrees of

the Confederation of Leipzig were annulled by a proclamation, the

Convention itself suppressed by an imperial decree, and all the

refractory states threatened with the fate of Magdeburg. As the

executor of this imperial mandate, Tilly immediately ordered troops to

march against the Bishop of Bremen, who was a member of the Confederacy,

and had himself enlisted soldiers. The terrified bishop immediately

gave up his forces to Tilly, and signed the revocation of the acts of

the Confederation. An imperial army, which had lately returned from

Italy, under the command of Count Furstenberg, acted in the same manner

towards the Administrator of Wirtemberg. The duke was compelled to

submit to the Edict of Restitution, and all the decrees of the Emperor,

and even to pay a monthly subsidy of 100,000 dollars, for the

maintenance of the imperial troops. Similar burdens were inflicted upon

Ulm and Nuremberg, and the entire circles of Franconia and Swabia. The

hand of the Emperor was stretched in terror over all Germany. The

sudden preponderance, more in appearance, perhaps, than in reality,

which he had obtained by this blow, carried him beyond the bounds even

of the moderation which he had hitherto observed, and misled him into

hasty and violent measures, which at last turned the wavering resolution

of the German princes in favour of Gustavus Adolphus. Injurious as the

immediate consequences of the fall of Magdeburg were to the Protestant

cause, its remoter effects were most advantageous. The past surprise

made way for active resentment, despair inspired courage, and the German

freedom rose, like a phoenix, from the ashes of Magdeburg.

Among the princes of the Leipzig Confederation, the Elector of Saxony

and the Landgrave of Hesse were the most powerful; and, until they were

disarmed, the universal authority of the Emperor was unconfirmed.

Against the Landgrave, therefore, Tilly first directed his attack, and

marched straight from Magdeburg into Thuringia. During this march, the

territories of Saxe Ernest and Schwartzburg were laid waste, and

Frankenhausen plundered before the very eyes of Tilly, and laid in ashes

with impunity. The unfortunate peasant paid dear for his master’s

attachment to the interests of Sweden. Erfurt, the key of Saxony and

Franconia, was threatened with a siege, but redeemed itself by a

voluntary contribution of money and provisions. From thence, Tilly

despatched his emissaries to the Landgrave, demanding of him the

immediate disbanding of his army, a renunciation of the league of

Leipzig, the reception of imperial garrisons into his territories and

fortresses, with the necessary contributions, and the declaration of

friendship or hostility. Such was the treatment which a prince of the

Empire was compelled to submit to from a servant of the Emperor. But

these extravagant demands acquired a formidable weight from the power

which supported them; and the dreadful fate of Magdeburg, still fresh in

the memory of the Landgrave, tended still farther to enforce them.

Admirable, therefore, was the intrepidity of the Landgrave’s answer:

“To admit foreign troops into his capital and fortresses, the Landgrave

is not disposed; his troops he requires for his own purposes; as for an

attack, he can defend himself. If General Tilly wants money or

provisions, let him go to Munich, where there is plenty of both.” The

irruption of two bodies of imperial troops into Hesse Cassel was the

immediate result of this spirited reply, but the Landgrave gave them so

warm a reception that they could effect nothing; and just as Tilly was

preparing to follow with his whole army, to punish the unfortunate

country for the firmness of its sovereign, the movements of the King of

Sweden recalled him to another quarter.

Gustavus Adolphus had learned the fall of Magdeburg with deep regret;

and the demand now made by the Elector, George William, in terms of

their agreement, for the restoration of Spandau, greatly increased this

feeling. The loss of Magdeburg had rather augmented than lessened the

reasons which made the possession of this fortress so desirable; and the

nearer became the necessity of a decisive battle between himself and

Tilly, the more unwilling he felt to abandon the only place which, in

the event of a defeat, could ensure him a refuge. After a vain

endeavour, by entreaties and representations, to bring over the Elector

to his views, whose coldness and lukewarmness daily increased, he gave

orders to his general to evacuate Spandau, but at the same time declared

to the Elector that he would henceforth regard him as an enemy.

To give weight to this declaration, he appeared with his whole force

before Berlin. “I will not be worse treated than the imperial

generals,” was his reply to the ambassadors whom the bewildered Elector

despatched to his camp. “Your master has received them into his

territories, furnished them with all necessary supplies, ceded to them

every place which they required, and yet, by all these concessions, he

could not prevail upon them to treat his subjects with common humanity.

All that I require of him is security, a moderate sum of money, and

provisions for my troops; in return, I promise to protect his country,

and to keep the war at a distance from him. On these points, however, I

must insist; and my brother, the Elector, must instantly determine to

have me as a friend, or to see his capital plundered.” This decisive

tone produced a due impression; and the cannon pointed against the town

put an end to the doubts of George William. In a few days, a treaty was

signed, by which the Elector engaged to furnish a monthly subsidy of

30,000 dollars, to leave Spandau in the king’s hands, and to open

Custrin at all times to the Swedish troops. This now open alliance of

the Elector of Brandenburg with the Swedes, excited no less displeasure

at Vienna, than did formerly the similar procedure of the Duke of

Pomerania; but the changed fortune which now attended his arms, obliged

the Emperor to confine his resentment to words.

The king’s satisfaction, on this favourable event, was increased by the

agreeable intelligence that Griefswald, the only fortress which the

Imperialists still held in Pomerania, had surrendered, and that the

whole country was now free of the enemy. He appeared once more in this

duchy, and was gratified at the sight of the general joy which he had

caused to the people. A year had elapsed since Gustavus first entered

Germany, and this event was now celebrated by all Pomerania as a

national festival. Shortly before, the Czar of Moscow had sent

ambassadors to congratulate him, to renew his alliance, and even to

offer him troops. He had great reason to rejoice at the friendly

disposition of Russia, as it was indispensable to his interests that

Sweden itself should remain undisturbed by any dangerous neighbour

during the war in which he himself was engaged. Soon after, his queen,

Maria Eleonora, landed in Pomerania, with a reinforcement of 8000

Swedes; and the arrival of 6000 English, under the Marquis of Hamilton,

requires more particular notice because this is all that history

mentions of the English during the Thirty Years’ War.

During Tilly’s expedition into Thuringia, Pappenheim commanded in

Magdeburg; but was unable to prevent the Swedes from crossing the Elbe

at various points, routing some imperial detachments, and seizing

several posts. He himself, alarmed at the approach of the King of

Sweden, anxiously recalled Tilly, and prevailed upon him to return by

rapid marches to Magdeburg. Tilly encamped on this side of the river at

Wolmerstadt; Gustavus on the same side, near Werben, not far from the

confluence of the Havel and the Elbe. His very arrival portended no

good to Tilly. The Swedes routed three of his regiments, which were

posted in villages at some distance from the main body, carried off half

their baggage, and burned the remainder. Tilly in vain advanced within

cannon shot of the king’s camp, and offered him battle. Gustavus,

weaker by one-half than his adversary, prudently declined it; and his

position was too strong for an attack. Nothing more ensued but a

distant cannonade, and a few skirmishes, in which the Swedes had

invariably the advantage. In his retreat to Wolmerstadt, Tilly’s army

was weakened by numerous desertions. Fortune seemed to have forsaken

him since the carnage of Magdeburg.

The King of Sweden, on the contrary, was followed by uninterrupted

success. While he himself was encamped in Werben, the whole of

Mecklenburg, with the exception of a few towns, was conquered by his

General Tott and the Duke Adolphus Frederick; and he enjoyed the

satisfaction of reinstating both dukes in their dominions. He proceeded

in person to Gustrow, where the reinstatement was solemnly to take

place, to give additional dignity to the ceremony by his presence. The

two dukes, with their deliverer between them, and attended by a splendid

train of princes, made a public entry into the city, which the joy of

their subjects converted into an affecting solemnity. Soon after his

return to Werben, the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel appeared in his camp, to

conclude an offensive and defensive alliance; the first sovereign prince

in Germany, who voluntarily and openly declared against the Emperor,

though not wholly uninfluenced by strong motives. The Landgrave bound

himself to act against the king’s enemies as his own, to open to him his

towns and territory, and to furnish his army with provisions and

necessaries. The king, on the other hand, declared himself his ally and

protector; and engaged to conclude no peace with the Emperor without

first obtaining for the Landgrave a full redress of grievances. Both

parties honourably performed their agreement. Hesse Cassel adhered to

the Swedish alliance during the whole of this tedious war; and at the

peace of Westphalia had no reason to regret the friendship of Sweden.

Tilly, from whom this bold step on the part of the Landgrave was not

long concealed, despatched Count Fugger with several regiments against

him; and at the same time endeavoured to excite his subjects to

rebellion by inflammatory letters. But these made as little impression

as his troops, which subsequently failed him so decidedly at the battle

of Breitenfield. The Estates of Hesse could not for a moment hesitate

between their oppressor and their protector.

But the imperial general was far more disturbed by the equivocal conduct

of the Elector of Saxony, who, in defiance of the imperial prohibition,

continued his preparations, and adhered to the confederation of Leipzig.

At this conjuncture, when the proximity of the King of Sweden made a

decisive battle ere long inevitable, it appeared extremely dangerous to

leave Saxony in arms, and ready in a moment to declare for the enemy.

Tilly had just received a reinforcement of 25,000 veteran troops under

Furstenberg, and, confident in his strength, he hoped either to disarm

the Elector by the mere terror of his arrival, or at least to conquer

him with little difficulty. Before quitting his camp at Wolmerstadt, he

commanded the Elector, by a special messenger, to open his territories

to the imperial troops; either to disband his own, or to join them to

the imperial army; and to assist, in conjunction with himself, in

driving the King of Sweden out of Germany. While he reminded him that,

of all the German states, Saxony had hitherto been most respected, he

threatened it, in case of refusal, with the most destructive ravages.

But Tilly had chosen an unfavourable moment for so imperious a

requisition. The ill-treatment of his religious and political

confederates, the destruction of Magdeburg, the excesses of the

Imperialists in Lusatia, all combined to incense the Elector against the

Emperor. The approach, too, of Gustavus Adolphus, (however slender his

claims were to the protection of that prince,) tended to fortify his

resolution. He accordingly forbade the quartering of the imperial

soldiers in his territories, and announced his firm determination to

persist in his warlike preparations. However surprised he should be, he

added, “to see an imperial army on its march against his territories,

when that army had enough to do in watching the operations of the King

of Sweden, nevertheless he did not expect, instead of the promised and

well merited rewards, to be repaid with ingratitude and the ruin of his

country.” To Tilly’s deputies, who were entertained in a princely

style, he gave a still plainer answer on the occasion. “Gentlemen,”

said he, “I perceive that the Saxon confectionery, which has been so

long kept back, is at length to be set upon the table. But as it is

usual to mix with it nuts and garnish of all kinds, take care of your

teeth.”

Tilly instantly broke up his camp, and, with the most frightful

devastation, advanced upon Halle; from this place he renewed his demands

on the Elector, in a tone still more urgent and threatening. The

previous policy of this prince, both from his own inclination, and the

persuasions of his corrupt ministers had been to promote the interests

of the Emperor, even at the expense of his own sacred obligations, and

but very little tact had hitherto kept him inactive. All this but

renders more astonishing the infatuation of the Emperor or his ministers

in abandoning, at so critical a moment, the policy they had hitherto

adopted, and by extreme measures, incensing a prince so easily led. Was

this the very object which Tilly had in view? Was it his purpose to

convert an equivocal friend into an open enemy, and thus to relieve

himself from the necessity of that indulgence in the treatment of this

prince, which the secret instructions of the Emperor had hitherto

imposed upon him? Or was it the Emperor’s wish, by driving the Elector

to open hostilities, to get quit of his obligations to him, and so

cleverly to break off at once the difficulty of a reckoning? In either

case, we must be equally surprised at the daring presumption of Tilly,

who hesitated not, in presence of one formidable enemy, to provoke

another; and at his negligence in permitting, without opposition, the

union of the two.

The Saxon Elector, rendered desperate by the entrance of Tilly into his

territories, threw himself, though not without a violent struggle, under

the protection of Sweden.

Immediately after dismissing Tilly’s first embassy, he had despatched

his field-marshal Arnheim in all haste to the camp of Gustavus, to

solicit the prompt assistance of that monarch whom he had so long

neglected. The king concealed the inward satisfaction he felt at this

long wished for result. “I am sorry for the Elector,” said he, with

dissembled coldness, to the ambassador; “had he heeded my repeated

remonstrances, his country would never have seen the face of an enemy,

and Magdeburg would not have fallen. Now, when necessity leaves him no

alternative, he has recourse to my assistance. But tell him, that I

cannot, for the sake of the Elector of Saxony, ruin my own cause, and

that of my confederates. What pledge have I for the sincerity of a

prince whose minister is in the pay of Austria, and who will abandon me

as soon as the Emperor flatters him, and withdraws his troops from his

frontiers? Tilly, it is true, has received a strong reinforcement; but

this shall not prevent me from meeting him with confidence, as soon as I

have covered my rear.”

The Saxon minister could make no other reply to these reproaches, than

that it was best to bury the past in oblivion.

He pressed the king to name the conditions, on which he would afford

assistance to Saxony, and offered to guarantee their acceptance. “I

require,” said Gustavus, “that the Elector shall cede to me the fortress

of Wittenberg, deliver to me his eldest sons as hostages, furnish my

troops with three months’ pay, and deliver up to me the traitors among

his ministry.”

“Not Wittenberg alone,” said the Elector, when he received this answer,

and hurried back his minister to the Swedish camp, “not Wittenberg

alone, but Torgau, and all Saxony, shall be open to him; my whole family

shall be his hostages, and if that is insufficient, I will place myself

in his hands. Return and inform him I am ready to deliver to him any

traitors he shall name, to furnish his army with the money he requires,

and to venture my life and fortune in the good cause.”

The king had only desired to test the sincerity of the Elector’s new

sentiments. Convinced of it, he now retracted these harsh demands.

“The distrust,” said he, “which was shown to myself when advancing to

the relief of Magdeburg, had naturally excited mine; the Elector’s

present confidence demands a return. I am satisfied, provided he grants

my army one month’s pay, and even for this advance I hope to indemnify

him.”

Immediately upon the conclusion of the treaty, the king crossed the

Elbe, and next day joined the Saxons. Instead of preventing this

junction, Tilly had advanced against Leipzig, which he summoned to

receive an imperial garrison. In hopes of speedy relief, Hans Von der

Pforta, the commandant, made preparations for his defence, and laid the

suburb towards Halle in ashes. But the ill condition of the

fortifications made resistance vain, and on the second day the gates

were opened. Tilly had fixed his head quarters in the house of a

grave-digger, the only one still standing in the suburb of Halle: here

he signed the capitulation, and here, too, he arranged his attack on the

King of Sweden. Tilly grew pale at the representation of the death’s

head and cross bones, with which the proprietor had decorated his house;

and, contrary to all expectation, Leipzig experienced moderate

treatment.

Meanwhile, a council of war was held at Torgau, between the King of

Sweden and the Elector of Saxony, at which the Elector of Brandenburg

was also present. The resolution which should now be adopted, was to

decide irrevocably the fate of Germany and the Protestant religion, the

happiness of nations and the destiny of their princes. The anxiety of

suspense which, before every decisive resolve, oppresses even the hearts

of heroes, appeared now for a moment to overshadow the great mind of

Gustavus Adolphus. “If we decide upon battle,” said he, “the stake will

be nothing less than a crown and two electorates. Fortune is

changeable, and the inscrutable decrees of Heaven may, for our sins,

give the victory to our enemies. My kingdom, it is true, even after the

loss of my life and my army, would still have a hope left. Far removed

from the scene of action, defended by a powerful fleet, a well-guarded

frontier, and a warlike population, it would at least be safe from the

worst consequences of a defeat. But what chances of escape are there

for you, with an enemy so close at hand?” Gustavus Adolphus displayed

the modest diffidence of a hero, whom an overweening belief of his own

strength did not blind to the greatness of his danger; John George, the

confidence of a weak man, who knows that he has a hero by his side.

Impatient to rid his territories as soon as possible of the oppressive

presence of two armies, he burned for a battle, in which he had no

former laurels to lose. He was ready to march with his Saxons alone

against Leipzig, and attack Tilly. At last Gustavus acceded to his

opinion; and it was resolved that the attack should be made without

delay, before the arrival of the reinforcements, which were on their

way, under Altringer and Tiefenbach. The united Swedish and Saxon

armies now crossed the Mulda, while the Elector returned homeward.

Early on the morning of the 7th September, 1631, the hostile armies came

in sight of each other. Tilly, who, since he had neglected the

opportunity of overpowering the Saxons before their union with the

Swedes, was disposed to await the arrival of the reinforcements, had

taken up a strong and advantageous position not far from Leipzig, where

he expected he should be able to avoid the battle. But the impetuosity

of Pappenheim obliged him, as soon as the enemy were in motion, to alter

his plans, and to move to the left, in the direction of the hills which

run from the village of Wahren towards Lindenthal. At the foot of these

heights, his army was drawn up in a single line, and his artillery

placed upon the heights behind, from which it could sweep the whole

extensive plain of Breitenfeld. The Swedish and Saxon army advanced in

two columns, having to pass the Lober near Podelwitz, in Tilly’s front.

To defend the passage of this rivulet, Pappenheim advanced at the head

of 2000 cuirassiers, though after great reluctance on the part of Tilly,

and with express orders not to commence a battle. But, in disobedience

to this command, Pappenheim attacked the vanguard of the Swedes, and

after a brief struggle was driven to retreat. To check the progress of

the enemy, he set fire to Podelwitz, which, however, did not prevent the

two columns from advancing and forming in order of battle.

On the right, the Swedes drew up in a double line, the infantry in the

centre, divided into such small battalions as could be easily and

rapidly manoeuvred without breaking their order; the cavalry upon their

wings, divided in the same manner into small squadrons, interspersed

with bodies of musqueteers, so as both to give an appearance of greater

numerical force, and to annoy the enemy’s horse. Colonel Teufel

commanded the centre, Gustavus Horn the left, while the right was led by

the king in person, opposed to Count Pappenheim.

On the left, the Saxons formed at a considerable distance from the

Swedes,--by the advice of Gustavus, which was justified by the event.

The order of battle had been arranged between the Elector and his

field-marshal, and the king was content with merely signifying his

approval. He was anxious apparently to separate the Swedish prowess

from that of the Saxons, and fortune did not confound them.

The enemy was drawn up under the heights towards the west, in one

immense line, long enough to outflank the Swedish army,--the infantry

being divided in large battalions, the cavalry in equally unwieldy

squadrons. The artillery being on the heights behind, the range of its

fire was over the heads of his men. From this position of his

artillery, it was evident that Tilly’s purpose was to await rather than

to attack the enemy; since this arrangement rendered it impossible for

him to do so without exposing his men to the fire of his own cannons.

Tilly himself commanded the centre, Count Furstenberg the right wing,

and Pappenheim the left. The united troops of the Emperor and the

League on this day did not amount to 34,000 or 35,000 men; the Swedes

and Saxons were about the same number. But had a million been

confronted with a million it could only have rendered the action more

bloody, certainly not more important and decisive. For this day

Gustavus had crossed the Baltic, to court danger in a distant country,

and expose his crown and life to the caprice of fortune. The two

greatest generals of the time, both hitherto invincible, were now to be

matched against each other in a contest which both had long avoided; and

on this field of battle the hitherto untarnished laurels of one leader

must droop for ever. The two parties in Germany had beheld the approach

of this day with fear and trembling; and the whole age awaited with deep

anxiety its issue, and posterity was either to bless or deplore it for

ever.

Tilly’s usual intrepidity and resolution seemed to forsake him on this

eventful day. He had formed no regular plan for giving battle to the

King, and he displayed as little firmness in avoiding it. Contrary to

his own judgment, Pappenheim had forced him to action. Doubts which he

had never before felt, struggled in his bosom; gloomy forebodings

clouded his ever-open brow; the shade of Magdeburg seemed to hover over

him.

A cannonade of two hours commenced the battle; the wind, which was from

the west, blew thick clouds of smoke and dust from the newly-ploughed

and parched fields into the faces of the Swedes. This compelled the

king insensibly to wheel northwards, and the rapidity with which this

movement was executed left no time to the enemy to prevent it.

Tilly at last left his heights, and began the first attack upon the

Swedes; but to avoid their hot fire, he filed off towards the right, and

fell upon the Saxons with such impetuosity that their line was broken,

and the whole army thrown into confusion. The Elector himself retired

to Eilenburg, though a few regiments still maintained their ground upon

the field, and by a bold stand saved the honour of Saxony. Scarcely had

the confusion began ere the Croats commenced plundering, and messengers

were despatched to Munich and Vienna with the news of the victory.

Pappenheim had thrown himself with the whole force of his cavalry upon

the right wing of the Swedes, but without being able to make it waver.

The king commanded here in person, and under him General Banner. Seven

times did Pappenheim renew the attack, and seven times was he repulsed.

He fled at last with great loss, and abandoned the field to his

conqueror.

In the mean time, Tilly, having routed the remainder of the Saxons,

attacked with his victorious troops the left wing of the Swedes. To

this wing the king, as soon as he perceived that the Saxons were thrown

into disorder, had, with a ready foresight, detached a reinforcement of

three regiments to cover its flank, which the flight of the Saxons had

left exposed. Gustavus Horn, who commanded here, showed the enemy’s

cuirassiers a spirited resistance, which the infantry, interspersed

among the squadrons of horse, materially assisted. The enemy were

already beginning to relax the vigour of their attack, when Gustavus

Adolphus appeared to terminate the contest. The left wing of the

Imperialists had been routed; and the king’s division, having no longer

any enemy to oppose, could now turn their arms wherever it would be to

the most advantage. Wheeling, therefore, with his right wing and main

body to the left, he attacked the heights on which the enemy’s artillery

was planted. Gaining possession of them in a short time, he turned upon

the enemy the full fire of their own cannon.

The play of artillery upon their flank, and the terrible onslaught of

the Swedes in front, threw this hitherto invincible army into confusion.

A sudden retreat was the only course left to Tilly, but even this was to

be made through the midst of the enemy. The whole army was in disorder,

with the exception of four regiments of veteran soldiers, who never as

yet had fled from the field, and were resolved not to do so now.

Closing their ranks, they broke through the thickest of the victorious

army, and gained a small thicket, where they opposed a new front to the

Swedes, and maintained their resistance till night, when their number

was reduced to six hundred men. With them fled the wreck of Tilly’s

army, and the battle was decided.

Amid the dead and the wounded, Gustavus Adolphus threw himself on his

knees; and the first joy of his victory gushed forth in fervent prayer.

He ordered his cavalry to pursue the enemy as long as the darkness of

the night would permit. The pealing of the alarm-bells set the

inhabitants of all the neighbouring villages in motion, and utterly lost

was the unhappy fugitive who fell into their hands. The king encamped

with the rest of his army between the field of battle and Leipzig, as it

was impossible to attack the town the same night. Seven thousand of the

enemy were killed in the field, and more than 5,000 either wounded or

taken prisoners. Their whole artillery and camp fell into the hands of

the Swedes, and more than a hundred standards and colours were taken.

Of the Saxons about 2,000 had fallen, while the loss of the Swedes did

not exceed 700. The rout of the Imperialists was so complete, that

Tilly, on his retreat to Halle and Halberstadt, could not rally above

600 men, or Pappenheim more than 1,400--so rapidly was this formidable

army dispersed, which so lately was the terror of Italy and Germany.

Tilly himself owed his escape merely to chance. Exhausted by his

wounds, he still refused to surrender to a Swedish captain of horse, who

summoned him to yield; but who, when he was on the point of putting him

to death, was himself stretched on the ground by a timely pistol-shot.

But more grievous than danger or wounds was the pain of surviving his

reputation, and of losing in a single day the fruits of a long life.

All former victories were as nothing, since he had failed in gaining the

one that should have crowned them all. Nothing remained of all his past

exploits, but the general execration which had followed them. From this

period, he never recovered his cheerfulness or his good fortune. Even

his last consolation, the hope of revenge, was denied to him, by the

express command of the Emperor not to risk a decisive battle.

The disgrace of this day is to be ascribed principally to three

mistakes; his planting the cannon on the hills behind him, his

afterwards abandoning these heights, and his allowing the enemy, without

opposition, to form in order of battle. But how easily might those

mistakes have been rectified, had it not been for the cool presence of

mind and superior genius of his adversary!

Tilly fled from Halle to Halberstadt, where he scarcely allowed time for

the cure of his wounds, before he hurried towards the Weser to recruit

his force by the imperial garrisons in Lower Saxony.

The Elector of Saxony had not failed, after the danger was over, to

appear in Gustavus’s camp. The king thanked him for having advised a

battle; and the Elector, charmed at his friendly reception, promised

him, in the first transports of joy, the Roman crown. Gustavus set out

next day for Merseburg, leaving the Elector to recover Leipzig. Five

thousand Imperialists, who had collected together after the defeat, and

whom he met on his march, were either cut in pieces or taken prisoners,

of whom again the greater part entered into his service. Merseburg

quickly surrendered; Halle was soon after taken, whither the Elector of

Saxony, after making himself master of Leipzig, repaired to meet the

king, and to concert their future plan of operations.

The victory was gained, but only a prudent use of it could render it

decisive. The imperial armies were totally routed, Saxony free from the

enemy, and Tilly had retired into Brunswick. To have followed him

thither would have been to renew the war in Lower Saxony, which had

scarcely recovered from the ravages of the last. It was therefore

determined to carry the war into the enemy’s country, which, open and

defenceless as far as Vienna, invited attack. On their right, they

might fall upon the territories of the Roman Catholic princes, or

penetrate, on the left, into the hereditary dominions of Austria, and

make the Emperor tremble in his palace. Both plans were resolved on;

and the question that now remained was to assign its respective parts.

Gustavus Adolphus, at the head of a victorious army, had little

resistance to apprehend in his progress from Leipzig to Prague, Vienna,

and Presburg. As to Bohemia, Moravia, Austria, and Hungary, they had

been stripped of their defenders, while the oppressed Protestants in

these countries were ripe for a revolt. Ferdinand was no longer secure

in his capital: Vienna, on the first terror of surprise, would at once

open its gates. The loss of his territories would deprive the enemy of

the resources by which alone the war could be maintained; and Ferdinand

would, in all probability, gladly accede, on the hardest conditions, to

a peace which would remove a formidable enemy from the heart of his

dominions. This bold plan of operations was flattering to a conqueror,

and success perhaps might have justified it. But Gustavus Adolphus, as

prudent as he was brave, and more a statesman than a conqueror, rejected

it, because he had a higher end in view, and would not trust the issue

either to bravery or good fortune alone.

By marching towards Bohemia, Franconia and the Upper Rhine would be left

to the Elector of Saxony. But Tilly had already begun to recruit his

shattered army from the garrisons in Lower Saxony, and was likely to be

at the head of a formidable force upon the Weser, and to lose no time in

marching against the enemy. To so experienced a general, it would not

do to oppose an Arnheim, of whose military skill the battle of Leipzig

had afforded but equivocal proof; and of what avail would be the rapid

and brilliant career of the king in Bohemia and Austria, if Tilly should

recover his superiority in the Empire, animating the courage of the

Roman Catholics, and disarming, by a new series of victories, the allies

and confederates of the king? What would he gain by expelling the

Emperor from his hereditary dominions, if Tilly succeeded in conquering

for that Emperor the rest of Germany? Could he hope to reduce the

Emperor more than had been done, twelve years before, by the

insurrection of Bohemia, which had failed to shake the firmness or

exhaust the resources of that prince, and from which he had risen more

formidable than ever?

Less brilliant, but more solid, were the advantages which he had to

expect from an incursion into the territories of the League. In this

quarter, his appearance in arms would be decisive. At this very

conjuncture, the princes were assembled in a Diet at Frankfort, to

deliberate upon the Edict of Restitution, where Ferdinand employed all

his artful policy to persuade the intimidated Protestants to accede to a

speedy and disadvantageous arrangement. The advance of their protector

could alone encourage them to a bold resistance, and disappoint the

Emperor’s designs. Gustavus Adolphus hoped, by his presence, to unite

the discontented princes, or by the terror of his arms to detach them

from the Emperor’s party. Here, in the centre of Germany, he could

paralyse the nerves of the imperial power, which, without the aid of the

League, must soon fall--here, in the neighbourhood of France, he could

watch the movements of a suspicious ally; and however important to his

secret views it was to cultivate the friendship of the Roman Catholic

electors, he saw the necessity of making himself first of all master of

their fate, in order to establish, by his magnanimous forbearance, a

claim to their gratitude.

He accordingly chose the route to Franconia and the Rhine; and left the

conquest of Bohemia to the Elector of Saxony.