(1632)
At last the fateful morning dawned; but an impenetrable fog which
spread over the plain delayed the attack till noon. Kneeling in front
of his lines, the King offered up his devotions; and the whole army,
at the same moment dropping on their knees, burst into a moving hymn,
accompanied by the military music. The King then mounted his horse,
and, clad only in a leather doublet and surtout (for a wound he had
formerly received prevented his wearing armor), rode along the ranks,
to animate the courage of his troops with a joyful confidence, which,
however, the foreboding presentiment of his own bosom contradicted.
"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.
[Footnote 18: From the "History of the Thirty Years' War." Translated
by A. J. W. Morrison. Schiller's work had already been translated by
Captain Blaqurelle in 1799 and by J. M. Duncan in 1828. Another
version is by G. Moir. The battle of Lutzen was fought between Swedes,
numbering 18,000, led by Gustavus Adolphus, and Imperialists,
numbering about 30,000, under Wallenstein. Gustavus Adolphus was
killed in this battle. On the same field in 1813, Napoleon defeated
the combined armies of Russia and Prussia.]
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 prest
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 sufficient to
stop the flight of the fugitives. Supported by three regiments of
cavalry, the vanquished brigades, forming anew, faced the enemy, and
prest vigorously into the broken ranks of the Swedes. A murderous
conflict ensued. The nearness of the enemy left no room for firearms,
the fury of the attack no time for loading; man was matched to man,
the useless musket exchanged for the sword and pike, and science gave
way to desperation. Overpowered by numbers, the wearied Swedes at last
retire beyond the trenches, and the captured battery is again lost by
the retreat. A thousand mangled bodies already strewed the plain, and
as yet not a single step of ground had been won.
In the mean time 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 the
King that his infantry were 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 Steinbock, 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-Lauenburg, were
able to keep up with the King. He rode directly to the place where his
infantry were most closely prest, and while he was reconnoitering the
enemy's line for an exposed point of attack, the shortness of his
sight unfortunately led him too close to their ranks.
An imperial Gefreiter 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 Lauenburg, in French to lead
him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded toward the
right wing with the King, making a long circuit 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.
The mournful tidings soon ran through the Swedish army; but, instead
of destroying the courage of these brave troops, it but excited it
into a new, a wild and consuming flame. Life had lessened in value,
now that the most sacred life of all was gone; death had no terrors
for the lowly since the anointed head was not spared. With the fury of
lions the Upland, Smaland, Finland, East and West Gothland regiments
rushed a second time upon the left wing of the enemy, which, already
making but feeble resistance to General Horn, was now entirely beaten
from the field. 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 left wing quickly formed again
and vigorously prest the right of the Imperialists. The artillery at
the windmills, which had maintained so murderous a fire upon the
Swedes, was captured and turned against the enemy. The center, also,
of the Swedish infantry, commanded by the duke and Knyphausen,
advanced a second time against the trenches, which they successfully
passed, and retook the battery of seven cannons. The attack was now
renewed with redoubled fury upon the heavy battalions of the enemy's
center; their resistance became gradually less, and chance conspired
with Swedish valor to complete the defeat. The imperial powder-wagons
took fire, and, with a tremendous explosion, grenades and bombs filled
the air. The enemy, now in confusion, thought they were attacked in
the rear, while the Swedish brigades prest them in front. Their
courage began to fail them. Their left wing was already beaten, their
right wavering, and their artillery in the enemy's hands. The battle
seemed to be almost decided; another moment would decide the fate of
the day, when Pappenheim appeared on the field, with his cuirassiers
and dragoons: all the advantages already gained were lost, and the
battle was to be fought anew.
The order which recalled that general to Lutzen had reached him in
Halle, while his troops were still plundering that town. It was
impossible to collect the scattered infantry with that rapidity which
the urgency of the order and Pappenheim's impatience required. Without
waiting for it, therefore, he ordered eight regiments of cavalry to
mount, and at their head he galloped at full speed for Lutzen, to
share in the battle. He arrived in time to witness the flight of the
Imperial right wing, which Gustavus Horn was driving from the field,
and to be at first involved in their rout. But with rapid presence of
mind he rallied the flying troops, and led them once more against the
enemy. Carried away by his wild bravery, and impatient to encounter
the King, who he supposed was at the head of this wing, he burst
furiously upon the Swedish ranks, which, exhausted by victory and
inferior in numbers were after a noble resistance, overpowered by this
fresh body of enemies. Pappenheim's unexpected appearance revived the
drooping courage of the Imperialists, and the Duke of Friedland
quickly availed himself of the favorable moment to reform his line.
The closely-serried battalions of the Swedes were, after a tremendous
conflict, again driven across the trenches, and the battery, which had
been twice lost, again rescued from their hands. The whole yellow
regiment, the finest o£ all that distinguished themselves in this
dreadful day, lay dead on the field, covering the ground almost in the
same excellent order which, when alive, they maintained with such
unyielding courage. The same fate befell another regiment of Blues,
which Count Piccolomini attacked with the imperial cavalry and cut
down after a desperate contest. Seven times did this intrepid general
renew the attack; seven horses were shot under him, and he himself was
pierced with six musket-balls; yet he would not leave the field until
he was carried along in the general rout of the whole army.
Wallenstein himself was seen riding through his ranks with cool
intrepidity, amidst a shower of balls, assisting the distrest,
encouraging the valiant with praise and the wavering by his fearful
glance. Around and close by him his men were falling thick, and his
own mantle was perforated by several shots. But avenging destiny this
day protected that breast for which another weapon was reserved; on
the same field where the noble Gustavus expired, Wallenstein was not
allowed to terminate his guilty career.
Less fortunate was Pappenheim, the Telamon of the army, the bravest
soldier of Austria and the Church. An ardent desire to encounter the
King in person carried this daring leader into the thickest of the
fight, where he thought his noble opponent was most surely to be met.
Gustavus had also exprest a wish to meet his brave antagonist, but
these hostile wishes remained ungratified; death first brought
together these two great heroes. Two musket-balls pierced the breast
of Pappenheim, and his men forcibly carried him from the field. While
they were conveying him to the rear, a murmur reached him that he whom
he had sought lay dead upon the plain. When the truth of the report
was confirmed to him, his look became brighter, his dying eye sparkled
with a last gleam of joy. "Tell the Duke of Friedland," said he, "that
I lie without hope of life, but that I die happy, since I know that
the implacable enemy of my religion has fallen on the same day."
With Pappenheim the good fortune of the Imperialists departed. The
cavalry of the left wing, already beaten, and only rallied by his
exertions, no sooner missed their victorious leader than they gave up
everything for lost and abandoned the field of battle in spiritless
despair. The right field fell into the same confusion, with the
exception of a few regiments which the bravery of their colonels,
Gotz, Terzky, Colloredo, and Piccolomini, compelled to keep their
ground. The Swedish infantry, with prompt determination, profited by
the enemy's confusion. To fill up the gaps which death had made in the
front line, they formed both lines into one, and with it made the
final and decisive charge. A third time they crossed the trenches, and
a third time they captured the battery.
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 those
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....
The Duke of Friedland[19] had retreated thither, and was followed on
the morrow by the scattered remains of his army, without artillery,
without colors, and almost without arms. The Duke of Weimar, it
appears, after the toils of this bloody day, allowed the Swedish army
some repose, between Lutzen and Weissenfels, near enough to the field
of battle to oppose any attempt the enemy might make to recover it. Of
the two armies more than nine thousand men lay dead; a still greater
number were wounded, and among the Imperialists scarcely a man escaped
from the field uninjured. The entire plain from Lutzen to the Canal
was strewed with the wounded, the dying, and the dead. History says
nothing of prisoners; a further proof of the animosity of the
combatants, who neither gave nor took quarter....
[Footnote 19: Wallenstein.]
Duke Bernard, by keeping possession of the field, and soon after by
the capture of Leipsic, maintained indisputably his claim to the title
of victor. But it was a dear conquest, a dearer triumph! It was not
till the fury of the contest was over that the full weight of the loss
sustained was felt, and the shout of triumph died away into a silent
gloom of despair. He who had led them to the charge returned not with
them: there he lay upon the field which he had won, mingled with the
dead bodies of the common crowd. After a long and almost fruitless
search, the corpse of the King was discovered not very far from the
great stone which, for a hundred years before, had stood between
Lutzen and the Canal, and which, from the memorable disaster of that
day, still bears the name of the "Stone of the Swede." Covered with
blood and wounds, so as scarcely to be recognized, trampled beneath
the horses' hoofs, stript by the rude hands of plunderers of its
ornaments and clothes, his body was drawn from beneath a heap of dead,
conveyed to Weissenfels, and there delivered up to the lamentations of
his soldiers and the last embraces of his Queen. The first tribute had
been paid to revenge, and blood had atoned for the blood of the
monarch; but now affection assumed its rights, and tears of grief must
flow for the man. The universal sorrow absorbs all individual woes.
The generals, still stupefied by the unexpected blow, stood speechless
and motionless around his bier, and no one trusted himself enough to
contemplate the full extent of their loss.