“At last the fateful morning dawned, but an impenetrable fog, which
spread over the plain, delayed the attack till noon.… ‘God with us!’ was
the war cry of the Swedes; ‘Jesus Maria!’ that of the Imperialists. About
eleven the fog began to disperse, and the enemy became visible. At the
same moment Lutzen was seen in flames, having been set on fire by command
of the duke, to prevent his being outflanked on that side. The charge was
now sounded; the cavalry rushed upon the enemy, and the infantry advanced
against the trenches.
“Received by a tremendous fire of musketry and heavy artillery, these
intrepid battalions maintained the attack with undaunted courage, till
the enemy’s musketeers abandoned their posts, the trenches were passed,
the battery carried and turned against the enemy. They pressed forward
with irresistible impetuosity; the first of the five imperial brigades
was immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to
flight. But here the genius of Wallenstein opposed itself to their
progress. With the rapidity of lightning he was on the spot to rally his
discomfited troops; and his powerful word was itself sufficient to stop
the flight of the fugitives. Supported by three regiments of cavalry,
the vanquished brigades, forming anew, faced the enemy, and pressed
vigorously into the broken ranks of the Swedes. A murderous conflict
ensued.… In the meantime the king’s right wing, led by himself, had
fallen upon the enemy’s left. The first impetuous shock of the heavy
Finland cuirassiers dispersed the lightly mounted Poles and Croats,
who were posted here, and their disorderly flight spread terror and
confusion among the rest of the cavalry. At this moment notice was
brought to the king, that his infantry was retreating over the trenches,
and also that his left wing, exposed to a severe fire from the enemy’s
cannon posted at the windmills, was beginning to give way. With rapid
decision he committed to General Horn the pursuit of the enemy’s left,
while he flew, at the head of the regiment of Steinback, to repair the
disorder of his right wing. His noble charger bore him with the velocity
of lightning across the trenches, but the squadrons that followed could
not come on with the same speed, and only a few horsemen, among whom
was Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenberg, were able to keep up with
the king. He rode directly to the place where his infantry were most
closely pressed, and while he was reconnoitering the enemy’s line for
an exposed point to attack, the shortness of his sight unfortunately
led him too close to their ranks. An imperial Gefreyter, remarking that
every one respectfully made way for him as he rode along, immediately
ordered a musketeer to take aim at him. ‘Fire at him yonder,’ said he,
‘that must be a man of consequence.’ The soldier fired, and the king’s
left arm was shattered. At that moment his squadron came hurrying up,
and a confused cry of ‘the king bleeds! the king is shot!’ spread terror
and consternation through all the ranks. ‘It is nothing, follow me,’
cried the king, collecting his whole strength; but overcome by pain,
and nearly fainting, he requested the Duke of Lauenberg, in French, to
lead him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded toward
the right wing with the king, to keep this discouraging sight from the
disordered infantry, his majesty received a second shot through the
back, which deprived him of his remaining strength. ‘Brother,’ said he,
with a dying voice, ‘I have enough! look only to your own life.’ At
the same moment he fell from his horse, pierced by several more shots;
and abandoned by all his attendants, he breathed his last amidst the
plundering bands of the Croats. His charger flying without its rider, and
covered with blood, soon made known to the Swedish cavalry the fall of
their king. They rushed madly forward to rescue his sacred remains from
the hands of the enemy. A murderous conflict ensued over the body, till
his mangled remains were buried beneath a heap of slain. Bernard, Duke
of Saxe-Weimar, gave to the bereaved Swedes a noble leader in his own
person; and the spirit of Gustavus led his victorious squadrons anew.
“The sun was setting when the two lines closed. The strife grew hotter as
it drew to an end; the last efforts of strength were mutually exerted,
and skill and courage did their utmost to repair in these precious
moments the fortune of the day. It was in vain; despair endows every one
with superhuman strength; no one can conquer, no one will give way. The
art of war seemed to exhaust its powers on one side, only to unfold some
new and untried masterpiece of skill on the other. Night and darkness
at last put an end to the fight, before the fury of the combatants was
exhausted; and the contest only ceased, when no one could any longer
find an antagonist. Both armies separated, as if by tacit agreement; the
trumpets sounded, and each party claiming the victory, quitted the field.”
[End of German History.]