THE LAST and most important product of the Counter-Reformation was the
Thirty Years' War. In Germany the rights of the churches had been
defined by the Peace of Religion, and the principles of the
settlement were not seriously contested.
When, the Archbishop of Cologne married and became a Protestant, he
endeavoured to retain his political position as one of the electors;
but the Catholics were strong enough to prevent it, as a thing
foreseen and clearly provided against by law. There had been a
constant propaganda on both sides, each gaining ground in some
direction, the Lutherans losing much by the extension of Calvinism at
their expense. By operation of the accepted maxim that the civil
power shall determine which religion may be practised within its
territory, Lutheran governments becoming Calvinist carried their
subjects with them, weakening the Protestant cause, and presenting a
divided front to opponents. In this matter there was one significant
exception. The House of Brandenburg became Calvinist, the country
remained Lutheran, while the minister, Schwarzenberg, was a Catholic.
To this timely divergence from the ideas and customs of the sixteenth
century, to this fundamentally different view of the function and uses
of the State, the Hohenzollerns owe no small portion of their
greatness in history. The Protestants were in the majority, but the
Imperial government was still in Catholic hands.
In the hereditary dominions of the House of Habsburg the situation was
different. Under Maximilian II Austria had been the least intolerant
of European governments. Equal toleration prevailed at that time in
Poland, and led to the growth and prosperity of the Socinians; but the
Austrian policy aimed at a compromise between the churches, and at a
system of concessions which made them much alike.
Under Maximilian's inefficient son, the country went asunder. One
branch of the family carried out the Counter-Reformation in Styria;
while, north of the Danube, the majority of the inhabitants was
either Lutheran or Utraquist, that is, attached to Communion under
both kinds, which had been the germ of Hussitism, and was the residue
that remained after the fervour of the Hussite movement had burnt
itself out. In 1609 Bohemia and Silesia obtained entire freedom of
religious belief; while in the several provinces of Alpine Austria
unity was as vigorously enforced as the law permitted--that is, by the
use of patronage, expulsion of ministers, suppression of schools;
confiscation of books, and, generally, by administrative repression,
short of violence.
It was not stipulated in the Majestatsbrief, as the instrument of 1609
was called, which was the charter of toleration under the Bohemian
crown, that Protestants might build churches on the domains of the
Catholic clergy; but this they claimed to do, inasmuch as the right
was conceded to them on the crown lands, and in Bohemia these were
technically considered to include Church lands. Accordingly, one was
built at Braunau, and was stopped by authority; another at
Klostergrab, and was pulled down. At the same time, the intention to
reverse legislation and repress Protestant religion on both sides of
the tube alike was openly confessed.
The Styrian archduke, the head of the clerical party, became King of
Bohemia and Emperor-elect, the kinsmen who were nearer the succession
withdrawing in his favour. The Habsburgs felt strong enough to carry
forward the Counter-Reformation even in Bohemia and the dependent
lands, where nine-tenths of the people were Protestants, with rights
assured by a recent and solemn instrument. They had in their favour
the letter of the Peace of Religion, by which no prince could be
required to rule over subjects differing from him in religion, and the
more probable reading of the rule as to the building of places of
worship. Against them was the unquestioned text of the
Majestatsbrief, not yet nine years old. The new emperor did not
meditate a breach of faith. Real violence was unavailing where the
opponents were in a large majority. The Counter-Reformation had
produced in Central Europe a scheme of persecution, which stopped
short of tragedy, and laboured to accomplish, by infinite art and
trouble, what the readier methods of the Holy Office and the Penal Law
were expected to do. Ferdinand II was a slow, laborious, friendly
man, with a sense of duty and a certain strictness of private life,
but without initiative or imagination.
The Bohemian leaders saw the danger of submitting to a man who,
without being a persecutor like Henry VIII and Philip II, would know
how to oppress them wisely. Their crown had once been elective; and
the ceremony of election had been revived ten years before when the
last king ascended the throne. They resolved to resist Ferdinand, and
to call another in his place. War would inevitably follow; and in
order that the country might be committed to their quarrel, as there
was no strong popular movement at first, and no national or political
issue, they judged that they must begin by giving proof of their
deadly meaning. The conspirators, with Count Thurn at their head,
made their way into the Hradschin, the gloomy palace that overlooks
Prague, and deliberately threw two hostile members of the government,
Slavata and Martinitz, out of the window. It seems that there is a
contagious charm about that sort of exercise which is not evident to
those who have not practised it. For seeing an inoffensive secretary,
Fabricius, who was trying to make himself as small as possible in the
crowd, they threw him after the others. The victims had a fall of
fifty feet. None of the three was much the worse for it, or for the
shots that were fired at them; and it is difficult to account for
their escape.
Ferdinand, who possessed no army, and was not safe in his palace at
Vienna from the insurgents who sympathised with Prague, had no means
of coping with the insurrection. He turned for aid to his friends in
Germany. There, defensive confederacies had been formed both by
Protestants and Catholics. The Catholics, consisting chiefly of
ecclesiastical princes with the Duke of Bavaria at their head,
composed what was known as the League, to protect their interests
against more aggressive adversaries. And the aggressive adversaries,
chiefly Calvinists, for Lutherans combined more easily with Catholics,
constituted what was called the Union. For some time they had
expected hostilities, and were preparing recruits. There was no lack
of fighting material; but the nation was poor in organisation, and ill
supplied with money, and was therefore insufficiently armed. They
looked abroad for auxiliaries--the Union, to Savoy and Venice, Holland
and England; the League, to Spain. Henry IV had been on the point of
seizing the occasion of this open rivalry, and of a disputed
succession, to invade the Empire in the summer of 1610. After his
death France dropped for a time out of European complications, and
thereby helped to postpone the outbreak of expected war. After the
insane and stupid outrage at Prague it became an immediate certainty,
and Maximilian of Bavaria, the ablest prince who ever reigned in that
country, came to the aid of his cousin the emperor, with his own
statesmanship, the forces of the League, and an ever-victorious
general. The Bohemians had the support of the Union; and the chief of
the Union, the elector Palatine, was elected to be their king. As his
wife was the Princess Elizabeth, King James's only daughter, there was
hope of English aid. Without waiting to verify that expectation, the
elector quitted his castle at Heidelberg, and assumed the proffered
crown. But the coalition between Rhenish Calvinists and the Lutherans
of Prague did not work. The new subjects exhibited none of the
warlike vigour which, under Ziska, had made the Empire tremble; and
the Scottish father-in-law was too good a conservative and professor
of kingcraft to abet revolution.
When the army of the League, under Tilly, appeared before Prague, on
the slopes of what is called the White Mountain, there was no real
resistance, and the new king became a fugitive and an exile, dependent
on friends. As he spent but one winter in his capital, he is
remembered as the Winter King. For us, he is the father of Rupert and
of the Electress Sophia, from whom the king has his crown. Bohemia
was treated as a conquered country. The Protestant religion was
gradually suppressed, and the insurgents punished by immense
confiscations. The country, which had been civilised and prosperous,
was the first portion of the empire ruined by the outbreak of
hostilities. Ferdinand made the most of the Catholic triumph. Tilly
led his victorious army across Germany, from the Moldau to the Rhine.
The Palatinate was conquered. Frederic was outlawed, and Maximilian
of Bavaria became an Elector in his stead, so that the Catholic
Electors, who had been four to three, were now five to two. The
Heidelberg Library was removed from the castle, then the finest in
Germany, and was sent as a present to the Pope.
Tilly was a Belgian, born in the town of that name, near Waterloo, to
which Blucher retreated after Ligny. He had learnt war under Farnese,
and served with the League at Ivry. He fought against the Turks on
the Danube, and became a marshal in 1605. He was a soldier of the
Spanish school, rigid and severe; but he was no criminal, like Alva
and Farnese, and was the best and most trustworthy servant of the
Catholic cause in Germany. For ten years, from the White Mountain, he
carried all before him. The Union was dissolved. But German princes
and adventurers took arms one after the other, and dashed themselves
to pieces against him. When he was master of the valley of the Rhine,
foreign Powers, alarmed at his progress, began to intervene. France,
England, Holland, advanced funds, and Christian IV of Denmark led an
army into Northern Germany. Tilly defeated him, as he had defeated
every other enemy. His incessant success strengthened the Catholics,
the League, the Duke of Bavaria, more than the emperor.
Ferdinand's allies served him so well that they threw him into the
shade. The losses of the Protestants were not directly his gains.
For that, in order that he might reap the full harvest which others
had sown, he needed a great army commanded by a general of his own.
In due time he acquired both one and the other. He commissioned
Wallenstein to raise an Imperial force, independent of the League,
and to complete the conquest of Germany.
Wallenstein was a Bohemian noble, a convert and pupil of the Jesuits,
better known for his success in finance than in war. When the
confiscations were going on, he speculated in land. Having thriven
greatly, he lent large sums to the emperor. He gave valuable
assistance in debasing the coinage, and became by far the richest man
in the country. Watching the moment, he was able to offer Ferdinand
an army of 24,000 men, to be raised by himself, paid by himself,
commanded by himself, and by officers appointed by him. The object of
the armament was not to save the empire from the foe, for the foe was
being perpetually defeated; but to save the emperor from the League,
and the oppressive superiority of Bavaria.
It was the beginning of the Austrian army. The regiments that
followed Wallenstein to the sea still subsist, and are the same that
fought under Eugene and the archduke Charles. They were quickly
victorious; they overran Silesia, and at the bridge of Dessau they
gained a victory over Mansfeld.
Mansfeld was one of the mere adventurers who disgrace the war. But he
was a born soldier. Repulsed on the Elbe, he made his way through the
hereditary provinces, intending to embark at Venice for England. In a
Bosnian village his strength gave out. His death was nobler than his
life, and is a legendary reminiscence in Germany. For he buckled on
his armour, made his companions hold him upright, and met death
standing, with his drawn sword.
Wallenstein was rewarded by being made Duke of Mecklenburg and admiral
of the Baltic. He governed his principality well; but his fleet and
his docks were destroyed by the Danes, and he was forced to raise the
siege of Stralsund. He was unable to act in combination with Tilly
and the League. They wished to make their religion dominate, without
detriment to their position in the empire. Wallenstein meant that the
emperor should dominate, at the expense of the princes, whether
Catholic or Protestant, between whom he made no distinction. The very
existence of the force under his command implied that the purpose and
policy of the Habsburgs were not those of their allies, and that,
after profiting by their services, he meant to rob them of their
results. His imperialism was so dazzling, his success so unbroken,
that Ferdinand would not check him, but strove to appease the League
with fair assurances, and to induce its efficient leader Maximilian to
trust the commander-in-chief.
Ferdinand had now reached a degree of power that Charles V never
enjoyed. He had crushed the revolution at home, the opposition in
Germany, and Lutheran loyalty was still unshaken. In his desire to
conciliate the League, while he made their conquests serve his power,
in March 1629 he published an edict restoring to the clergy all the
Church property in Protestant hands. The Lutherans would have to give
back two archbishoprics, twelve bishoprics, innumerable abbeys; while
the Calvinists were to lose the benefit of the Peace of Religion. The
Edict of Restitution gave up the immediate purposes of the empire for
those of the Church, and drove all Protestant forces to unite in
resistance to it. And it extended the rights of conquest over princes
who had taken no part in the war. It was the repudiation of
Wallenstein's policy, and of his schemes for regenerating the Empire,
and he caused it to be known that he would not execute the new orders.
Ferdinand had to choose between Wallenstein and the League. By the
advice of France, represented by a Capuchin, who was the ablest
diplomatist then living, he dismissed his generalissimo, and accepted
the dictation of the Catholic League. He had to face the consequences
of his Edict of Restitution at the moment when he disarmed.
Just then, when all the Protestants were roused to anger and alarm,
and when Wallenstein had laid down his sword, Gustavus landed in
Rugen. He had been fighting in Poland for the Baltic coast, and
there he had encountered an imperial force. Richelieu aided him in
making peace with the Poles, and he went forth with a trained army,
assured that he would unite all the Protestants of Germany against the
Habsburgs. He spent many months in securing his base of operations,
by onerous alliances imposed on Pomerania, and on his reluctant
brother-in-law, the elector of Brandenburg.
When at length the way through Silesia to the heart of Austria lay
open before him, Tilly arrested his march by laying siege to
Magdeburg, which commanded the Elbe, and was a Protestant stronghold
in the North. The King of Sweden made no attempt to relieve the
besieged city; and in May 1631 Pappenheim, the hardest hitter among
the German commanders, took the place by storm. The defenders
deprived him of the fruits of victory by setting fire to Magdeburg,
and burning it to the ground. Tilly, with difficulty, saved the
Cathedral, and handed it over to the Catholics. He then took Leipzig
without resistance, hoping to coerce Saxony; but the Elector, in this
extremity, abandoned the neutrality he had maintained throughout the
war, and went over to the Swedes. At Breitenfeld, a few miles out of
Leipzig, Gustavus, feebly aided by the Saxons, defeated the
Imperialists in the greatest battle of the war. It was a victory of
the musket over the pike, and the beginning of the long struggle
between line and column. Tilly's ranks were ten deep, and the Swedes
only three, so that every musketeer fired. The world now perceived
that the tardy, patient soldier, who had seemed too cautious about his
retreat to prepare his advance, was a mighty conqueror, full of
invention and resource and untold design.
He struck at once for the heart of the empire, made himself master of
Wurzburg, and overran the ecclesiastical principalities of the Rhine,
which were the basis of Catholic power. At Mentz Gustavus held his
court, treating the princes as his inferiors, endeavouring to
conciliate the population. He did not live to declare his schemes of
policy; but all men knew that he meant to be the head of a great
Protestant Confederation, and to disarm their adversaries by
secularising the dominions of the clergy. He had made no settlement
for the future when he marched against Bavaria, the other stronghold
of the League. Below Augsburg Gustavus forced the passage of the
Lech, which Tilly disputed, and where the latter received the wound
of which he died soon after, in the impregnable fortress of
Ingolstadt. For more than two centuries his remains were so perfectly
preserved that I have looked on his austere features. Down to the
last months of his life he had been victorious over every foe, and was
the most dangerous enemy of the Protestant cause. Legend took
possession of him, and down to the last generation he was accused of
being the destroyer of Magdeburg, and of having, from mere fanaticism,
deprived himself of his prize. All that he had achieved in incessant
triumph fell to pieces at his first defeat; and the armies of the
League no longer stood between Gustavus, now at the head of 100,000
men, and the Austrian capital. But his career of success ended with
the fall of his great rival.
When Tilly was defeated, the despairing emperor appealed once more to
Wallenstein, who was living in great splendour, aloof from affairs,
and showing as much capacity in the administration of his domains as
he had shown in war. It was not two years since he had been deposed
in disgrace, at the instance of the German princes. Therefore when,
in their extremity, they turned to him for protection, they placed
themselves in the power of an enemy on whom they had inflicted a
mortal injury. He had felt it so deeply that he was in actual treaty,
at the time, with Gustavus, for an expedition against Vienna. As Duke
of Mecklenburg he was an independent potentate, and he regarded
himself as released from the allegiance of a subject. Before breaking
off his negotiation with the Swede, he beheld his enemies at his feet.
Wallenstein was able to dictate his terms, and to make himself secure
against a second dismissal. His army was his own. He meant to obey
while obedience suited his purpose, and to act for himself when it did
not. Unlike Tilly, the aims of his life were political, not
ecclesiastical. With so many reasons for distrust on one side and
resentment on the other, a catastrophe could hardly be averted. With
Saxony and the Saxon general Arnim, who had been one of his colonels,
he kept up an understanding; and they evacuated Bohemia, which they
had occupied after Breitenfeld.
Wallenstein's new battalions came into line, and he took up a strong
fortified position near Nuremberg, with 60,000 men; while Gustavus
stood at the foot of the Alps, and his adherents wondered whether he
meant to cross them, and to attack Catholicism in its centre. When
the king knew that the imperial army had risen again, and threatened
his communications on the road through Franconia, he hurried to
measure swords with Wallenstein. He was heavily repulsed, and moved
once more towards the Danube, expecting to be followed. He was still
the dominating force in Germany, supported, if not trusted, by
Lutheran and Calvinist alike. At that moment Gustavus committed a
fatal mistake. If, as Oxenstiern advised, he had descended the valley
of the Danube into the hereditary provinces, the Imperialists must
have pursued him at a disadvantage, and could not have reached Vienna
before him. But Gustavus turned westward, towards Suabia, and
Wallenstein disregarded his movements. Gathering his forces, he threw
them upon Saxony, which had refused to give up the Swedish alliance.
The King of Sweden hastened to the rescue, while the Saxon army
stood apart, waiting the event. Pappenheim had been detached, and
the Swedes, in superior force, found a great opportunity before
them. But Wallenstein sent an order in good time to his famous
Lieutenant-divisionnaire, telling him to give up everything and
join at once. That paper, which saved the empire, one of the most
memorable autographs in the world, can still be seen, darkened with
Pappenheim's blood, in the Museum of the Austrian army. He rode into
battle at Lutzen with eight regiments of horse, seeking Gustavus.
They never met, for they were both killed, and as the king's charger
flew in terror along the line, the empty saddle told his soldiers of
their loss. It was an indecisive day, leaving the balance of forces
nearly as they remained, until Moltke, in one pitched battle,
succeeding where Gustavus, Turenne, Frederic, and even Napoleon
failed, overthrew for ever the military power of Austria.
Neither the Duke of Weimar nor Oxenstiern enjoyed the personal
ascendency of Gustavus Adolphus. The minister could not deal as he
did with German princes, nor the German prince with German territory.
The Swedish cause was very seriously weakened, and as the emperor gave
up the idea of restitution, which was hopeless, and which had done so
much to intensify animosities, and as Wallenstein commanded and Tilly
was dead, it became possible to discuss terms of peace with the
Saxons, who dreaded the moderated emperor less than the formidable
Swedes. That situation gives the basis of the tragedy that followed.
Wallenstein enjoyed undivided command. If the enemy accepted his
proposals, he thought himself strong enough to compel their acceptance
at Vienna. He opened two negotiations, one with the Saxons, to get
rid of the Swedes, the other with the Swedes themselves. The latter
was promoted by his friends, the Bohemian exiles; but Oxenstiern was
reluctant, and required that Wallenstein should declare against his
master. If he would do that, he should have the crown of Bohemia.
Wallenstein refused, and the matter was allowed to drop.
The scheme which he proposed to the Saxons and Brandenburgers was the
restoration of peace on the principles of religious liberty; the
control of belief by Government abolished; everything rescinded which
had been done since 1618 in contradiction with this principle; the
departure of the Swedes to be purchased by an indemnity. These are
the main ideas. They were reasonable conditions of a lasting peace,
and would have saved many years of useless war, and prevented the ruin
of Germany. Wallenstein designed that the emperor should be compelled
to submit, if necessary, by a display of force. What Ferdinand wished
for beyond this, what he had striven for all along, the Catholic
domination, was hopeless. And if not hopeless, it was a thing not to
be desired, and not worthy of the cruel sacrifice of continued
warfare. It was the interest of Spaniard, Bavarian, and clergy to
frustrate Wallenstein's scheme. They represented that he was a
traitor, that he was plotting with the enemies of the empire, that he
crowded his camp with Protestants, that he wanted to be king, and
compassed the death of his master. Some of it was plausibly near the
truth; and their suspicions were confirmed when the Duke of Weimar
took Ratisbon. The Elector of Bavaria had sent full warning; the
Aulic Council had sent positive orders. But Wallenstein refused to
move.
Fearing that he might be deposed before he could execute what he had
long meditated, he summoned his colonels to Pilsen, and threatened to
resign. They pledged themselves to stand by him. The clause, saving
their duty to the emperor, was struck out of the declaration by him.
He still hoped to succeed. But Ferdinand issued orders that he should
be no longer obeyed; and these orders, proclaimed at Prague to sound
of drum, were accepted by the army. A successor was appointed;
Piccolomini, the real victor at Lutzen, was made field-marshal; and
the officers were drawn away by the prospect of the impending
confiscations. They amounted, eventually, to fourteen millions of
florins. The Spanish envoy, Onate, at last sent word in Ferdinand's
name that Wallenstein should be mastered, alive or dead. Wallenstein
understood that he was in danger, and begged Weimar to come to his
assistance with cavalry.
He started from Pilsen, with the remnant of his troops, to meet Weimar
at Eger, where two Scotch Presbyterians were in command, who inspired
confidence. But on the way he met the Irish regiment of dragoons,
with their colonel, Butler, and required them to accompany him. They
were going to Prague, to join his enemies, and were the authors of his
death. Butler persuaded the two Scotsmen, Lesley and Gordon, and the
few officers, known to be Wallenstein's immediate friends, were
invited to a banquet in the castle of Eger, and there cut down. When
the Countess Kinsky, who was the wife of one of them, learnt of her
husband's death, she had the presence of mind instantly to destroy his
papers, and the secret of Wallenstein's treason was lost in that
conflagration. Devereux, one of Butlers captains, went with a handful
of men to the general's quarters and despatched him. The deed was
approved by the emperor, and the murderers were rewarded. This is the
dramatic end of the struggle, so far as it was caused by genuine
problems of Church and State.
A war of aggression and desolation ensued, and lasted many years,
without higher significance. When the Imperialists had gained another
victory at Nordlingen, Lutheran Saxony made its peace, at Prague, in
1635.
Then Richelieu took up the conflict, to carry on his feud with both
branches of the House of Habsburg, and the empire sank lower and
lower, German princes and generals betraying their country to the
national enemy. In 1643, when Richelieu was dead, a chance of peace
began. Five years later it was concluded for Germany, at Munster and
Osnabruck, not for Spain. The Empire lost much in population and
territory, which were taken by France; still more in authority, which
fell from the emperors hands into the hands of the several princes,
now virtually sovereign and subject to no control. The peace of
Westphalia gave no accession to the Protestant interest.
In extension, the Protestants lost by the Thirty Years' War. They
lost one-half of the Palatinate, incorporated in Bavaria; and they
submitted to exclusion from the Austrian dominions, all but Silesia.
Calvinists were now admitted to equal rights with the rest.
Protestants and Catholics recovered what they had possessed in 1624.
Therefore the cause of the insurgent Bohemians was abandoned, and the
men who were thrown out of the window triumphed in the end.
Concerning liberty of conscience, not a word was said. The power of
the interfering State was not shorn, but the idea that the division of
Christendom might be healed by force passed away from the minds of
men. It had taken thirty years of incessant bloodshed to extinguish
the Counter-Reformation.