another was lost; and at Leipzig, the flower of the Austrian army
had fallen. The intelligence of this defeat soon reached the ears of
Wallenstein, who, in the retired obscurity of a private station in
Prague, contemplated from a calm distance the tumult of war. The news,
which filled the breasts of the Roman Catholics with dismay, announced
to him the return of greatness and good fortune. For him was Gustavus
Adolphus labouring. Scarce had the king begun to gain reputation by his
exploits, when Wallenstein lost not a moment to court his friendship,
and to make common cause with this successful enemy of Austria. The
banished Count Thurn, who had long entered the service of Sweden,
undertook to convey Wallenstein's congratulations to the king, and
to invite him to a close alliance with the duke. Wallenstein required
15,000 men from the king; and with these, and the troops he himself
engaged to raise, he undertook to conquer Bohemia and Moravia, to
surprise Vienna, and drive his master, the Emperor, before him into
Italy. Welcome as was this unexpected proposition, its extravagant
promises were naturally calculated to excite suspicion. Gustavus
Adolphus was too good a judge of merit to reject with coldness the
offers of one who might be so important a friend. But when Wallenstein,
encouraged by the favourable reception of his first message, renewed it
after the battle of Breitenfeld, and pressed for a decisive answer,
the prudent monarch hesitated to trust his reputation to the chimerical
projects of so daring an adventurer, and to commit so large a force
to the honesty of a man who felt no shame in openly avowing himself a
traitor. He excused himself, therefore, on the plea of the weakness of
his army which, if diminished by so large a detachment, would certainly
suffer in its march through the empire; and thus, perhaps, by excess of
caution, lost an opportunity of putting an immediate end to the war.
He afterwards endeavoured to renew the negociation; but the favourable
moment was past, and Wallenstein's offended pride never forgave the
first neglect.
But the king's hesitation, perhaps, only accelerated the breach, which
their characters made inevitable sooner or later. Both framed by nature
to give laws, not to receive them, they could not long have co-operated
in an enterprise, which eminently demanded mutual submission and
sacrifices. Wallenstein was NOTHING where he was not EVERYTHING; he must
either act with unlimited power, or not at all. So cordially, too, did
Gustavus dislike control, that he had almost renounced his advantageous
alliance with France, because it threatened to fetter his own
independent judgment. Wallenstein was lost to a party, if he could
not lead; the latter was, if possible, still less disposed to obey
the instructions of another. If the pretensions of a rival would be so
irksome to the Duke of Friedland, in the conduct of combined operations,
in the division of the spoil they would be insupportable. The proud
monarch might condescend to accept the assistance of a rebellious
subject against the Emperor, and to reward his valuable services with
regal munificence; but he never could so far lose sight of his own
dignity, and the majesty of royalty, as to bestow the recompense which
the extravagant ambition of Wallenstein demanded; and requite an act of
treason, however useful, with a crown. In him, therefore, even if all
Europe should tacitly acquiesce, Wallenstein had reason to expect the
most decided and formidable opponent to his views on the Bohemian crown;
and in all Europe he was the only one who could enforce his opposition.
Constituted Dictator in Germany by Wallenstein himself, he might turn
his arms against him, and consider himself bound by no obligations to
one who was himself a traitor. There was no room for a Wallenstein
under such an ally; and it was, apparently, this conviction, and not
any supposed designs upon the imperial throne, that he alluded to, when,
after the death of the King of Sweden, he exclaimed, "It is well for
him and me that he is gone. The German Empire does not require two such
leaders."
His first scheme of revenge on the house of Austria had indeed failed;
but the purpose itself remained unalterable; the choice of means alone
was changed. What he had failed in effecting with the King of Sweden, he
hoped to obtain with less difficulty and more advantage from the Elector
of Saxony. Him he was as certain of being able to bend to his views,
as he had always been doubtful of Gustavus Adolphus. Having always
maintained a good understanding with his old friend Arnheim, he now made
use of him to bring about an alliance with Saxony, by which he hoped to
render himself equally formidable to the Emperor and the King of Sweden.
He had reason to expect that a scheme, which, if successful, would
deprive the Swedish monarch of his influence in Germany, would be
welcomed by the Elector of Saxony, who he knew was jealous of the
power and offended at the lofty pretensions of Gustavus Adolphus. If
he succeeded in separating Saxony from the Swedish alliance, and in
establishing, conjointly with that power, a third party in the Empire,
the fate of the war would be placed in his hand; and by this single
step he would succeed in gratifying his revenge against the Emperor,
revenging the neglect of the Swedish monarch, and on the ruin of both,
raising the edifice of his own greatness.
But whatever course he might follow in the prosecution of his designs,
he could not carry them into effect without an army entirely devoted to
him. Such a force could not be secretly raised without its coming to
the knowledge of the imperial court, where it would naturally excite
suspicion, and thus frustrate his design in the very outset. From the
army, too, the rebellious purposes for which it was destined, must be
concealed till the very moment of execution, since it could scarcely be
expected that they would at once be prepared to listen to the voice of
a traitor, and serve against their legitimate sovereign. Wallenstein,
therefore, must raise it publicly and in name of the Emperor, and be
placed at its head, with unlimited authority, by the Emperor himself.
But how could this be accomplished, otherwise than by his being
appointed to the command of the army, and entrusted with full powers to
conduct the war. Yet neither his pride, nor his interest, permitted him
to sue in person for this post, and as a suppliant to accept from the
favour of the Emperor a limited power, when an unlimited authority might
be extorted from his fears. In order to make himself the master of the
terms on which he would resume the command of the army, his course was
to wait until the post should be forced upon him. This was the advice
he received from Arnheim, and this the end for which he laboured with
profound policy and restless activity.
Convinced that extreme necessity would alone conquer the Emperor's
irresolution, and render powerless the opposition of his bitter enemies,
Bavaria and Spain, he henceforth occupied himself in promoting the
success of the enemy, and in increasing the embarrassments of his
master. It was apparently by his instigation and advice, that the
Saxons, when on the route to Lusatia and Silesia, had turned their march
towards Bohemia, and overrun that defenceless kingdom, where their rapid
conquests was partly the result of his measures. By the fears which he
affected to entertain, he paralyzed every effort at resistance; and his
precipitate retreat caused the delivery of the capital to the enemy. At
a conference with the Saxon general, which was held at Kaunitz under the
pretext of negociating for a peace, the seal was put to the conspiracy,
and the conquest of Bohemia was the first fruits of this mutual
understanding. While Wallenstein was thus personally endeavouring to
heighten the perplexities of Austria, and while the rapid movements of
the Swedes upon the Rhine effectually promoted his designs, his friends
and bribed adherents in Vienna uttered loud complaints of the public
calamities, and represented the dismissal of the general as the sole
cause of all these misfortunes. "Had Wallenstein commanded, matters
would never have come to this," exclaimed a thousand voices; while their
opinions found supporters, even in the Emperor's privy council.
Their repeated remonstrances were not needed to convince the embarrassed
Emperor of his general's merits, and of his own error. His dependence on
Bavaria and the League had soon become insupportable; but hitherto
this dependence permitted him not to show his distrust, or irritate the
Elector by the recall of Wallenstein. But now when his necessities grew
every day more pressing, and the weakness of Bavaria more apparent, he
could no longer hesitate to listen to the friends of the duke, and to
consider their overtures for his restoration to command. The immense
riches Wallenstein possessed, the universal reputation he enjoyed, the
rapidity with which six years before he had assembled an army of 40,000
men, the little expense at which he had maintained this formidable
force, the actions he had performed at its head, and lastly, the zeal
and fidelity he had displayed for his master's honour, still lived in
the Emperor's recollection, and made Wallenstein seem to him the ablest
instrument to restore the balance between the belligerent powers, to
save Austria, and preserve the Catholic religion. However sensibly the
imperial pride might feel the humiliation, in being forced to make so
unequivocal an admission of past errors and present necessity; however
painful it was to descend to humble entreaties, from the height of
imperial command; however doubtful the fidelity of so deeply injured and
implacable a character; however loudly and urgently the Spanish minister
and the Elector of Bavaria protested against this step, the immediate
pressure of necessity finally overcame every other consideration, and
the friends of the duke were empowered to consult him on the subject,
and to hold out the prospect of his restoration.
Informed of all that was transacted in the Emperor's cabinet to his
advantage, Wallenstein possessed sufficient self-command to conceal his
inward triumph and to assume the mask of indifference. The moment of
vengeance was at last come, and his proud heart exulted in the prospect
of repaying with interest the injuries of the Emperor. With artful
eloquence, he expatiated upon the happy tranquillity of a private
station, which had blessed him since his retirement from a political
stage. Too long, he said, had he tasted the pleasures of ease and
independence, to sacrifice to the vain phantom of glory, the uncertain
favour of princes. All his desire of power and distinction were extinct:
tranquillity and repose were now the sole object of his wishes. The
better to conceal his real impatience, he declined the Emperor's
invitation to the court, but at the same time, to facilitate the
negociations, came to Znaim in Moravia.
At first, it was proposed to limit the authority to be intrusted to him,
by the presence of a superior, in order, by this expedient, to silence
the objections of the Elector of Bavaria. The imperial deputies,
Questenberg and Werdenberg, who, as old friends of the duke, had been
employed in this delicate mission, were instructed to propose that the
King of Hungary should remain with the army, and learn the art of war
under Wallenstein. But the very mention of his name threatened to put
a period to the whole negociation. "No! never," exclaimed Wallenstein,
"will I submit to a colleague in my office. No -- not even if it were
God himself, with whom I should have to share my command." But even
when this obnoxious point was given up, Prince Eggenberg, the Emperor's
minister and favourite, who had always been the steady friend and
zealous champion of Wallenstein, and was therefore expressly sent
to him, exhausted his eloquence in vain to overcome the pretended
reluctance of the duke. "The Emperor," he admitted, "had, in
Wallenstein, thrown away the most costly jewel in his crown: but
unwillingly and compulsorily only had he taken this step, which he had
since deeply repented of; while his esteem for the duke had remained
unaltered, his favour for him undiminished. Of these sentiments he now
gave the most decisive proof, by reposing unlimited confidence in his
fidelity and capacity to repair the mistakes of his predecessors, and
to change the whole aspect of affairs. It would be great and noble to
sacrifice his just indignation to the good of his country; dignified and
worthy of him to refute the evil calumny of his enemies by the double
warmth of his zeal. This victory over himself," concluded the prince,
"would crown his other unparalleled services to the empire, and render
him the greatest man of his age."
These humiliating confessions, and flattering assurances, seemed at last
to disarm the anger of the duke; but not before he had disburdened his
heart of his reproaches against the Emperor, pompously dwelt upon his
own services, and humbled to the utmost the monarch who solicited his
assistance, did he condescend to listen to the attractive proposals of
the minister. As if he yielded entirely to the force of their arguments,
he condescended with a haughty reluctance to that which was the most
ardent wish of his heart; and deigned to favour the ambassadors with
a ray of hope. But far from putting an end to the Emperor's
embarrassments, by giving at once a full and unconditional consent, he
only acceded to a part of his demands, that he might exalt the value of
that which still remained, and was of most importance. He accepted the
command, but only for three months; merely for the purpose of raising,
but not of leading, an army. He wished only to show his power and
ability in its organization, and to display before the eyes of the
Emperor, the greatness of that assistance, which he still retained in
his hands. Convinced that an army raised by his name alone, would, if
deprived of its creator, soon sink again into nothing, he intended it
to serve only as a decoy to draw more important concessions from his
master. And yet Ferdinand congratulated himself, even in having gained
so much as he had.
Wallenstein did not long delay to fulfil those promises which all
Germany regarded as chimerical, and which Gustavus Adolphus had
considered as extravagant. But the foundation for the present enterprise
had been long laid, and he now only put in motion the machinery, which
many years had been prepared for the purpose. Scarcely had the news
spread of Wallenstein's levies, when, from every quarter of the Austrian
monarchy, crowds of soldiers repaired to try their fortunes under this
experienced general. Many, who had before fought under his standards,
had been admiring eye-witnesses of his great actions, and experienced
his magnanimity, came forward from their retirement, to share with him
a second time both booty and glory. The greatness of the pay he promised
attracted thousands, and the plentiful supplies the soldier was likely
to enjoy at the cost of the peasant, was to the latter an irresistible
inducement to embrace the military life at once, rather than be the
victim of its oppression. All the Austrian provinces were compelled to
assist in the equipment. No class was exempt from taxation -- no dignity
or privilege from capitation. The Spanish court, as well as the King
of Hungary, agreed to contribute a considerable sum. The ministers made
large presents, while Wallenstein himself advanced 200,000 dollars from
his own income to hasten the armament. The poorer officers he supported
out of his own revenues; and, by his own example, by brilliant
promotions, and still more brilliant promises, he induced all, who were
able, to raise troops at their own expense. Whoever raised a corps at
his own cost was to be its commander. In the appointment of officers,
religion made no difference. Riches, bravery and experience were more
regarded than creed. By this uniform treatment of different religious
sects, and still more by his express declaration, that his present levy
had nothing to do with religion, the Protestant subjects of the empire
were tranquillized, and reconciled to bear their share of the public
burdens. The duke, at the same time, did not omit to treat, in his own
name, with foreign states for men and money. He prevailed on the Duke of
Lorraine, a second time, to espouse the cause of the Emperor. Poland was
urged to supply him with Cossacks, and Italy with warlike necessaries.
Before the three months were expired, the army which was assembled in
Moravia, amounted to no less than 40,000 men, chiefly drawn from the
unconquered parts of Bohemia, from Moravia, Silesia, and the German
provinces of the House of Austria. What to every one had appeared
impracticable, Wallenstein, to the astonishment of all Europe, had in
a short time effected. The charm of his name, his treasures, and his
genius, had assembled thousands in arms, where before Austria had
only looked for hundreds. Furnished, even to superfluity, with all
necessaries, commanded by experienced officers, and inflamed by
enthusiasm which assured itself of victory, this newly created army only
awaited the signal of their leader to show themselves, by the bravery of
their deeds, worthy of his choice.
The duke had fulfilled his promise, and the troops were ready to
take the field; he then retired, and left to the Emperor to choose a
commander. But it would have been as easy to raise a second army like
the first, as to find any other commander for it than Wallenstein.
This promising army, the last hope of the Emperor, was nothing but an
illusion, as soon as the charm was dissolved which had called it into
existence; by Wallenstein it had been raised, and, without him, it sank
like a creation of magic into its original nothingness. Its officers
were either bound to him as his debtors, or, as his creditors, closely
connected with his interests, and the preservation of his power.
The regiments he had entrusted to his own relations, creatures,
and favourites. He, and he alone, could discharge to the troops the
extravagant promises by which they had been lured into his service.
His pledged word was the only security on which their bold expectations
rested; a blind reliance on his omnipotence, the only tie which linked
together in one common life and soul the various impulses of their zeal.
There was an end of the good fortune of each individual, if he retired,
who alone was the voucher of its fulfilment.
However little Wallenstein was serious in his refusal, he successfully
employed this means to terrify the Emperor into consenting to his
extravagant conditions. The progress of the enemy every day increased
the pressure of the Emperor's difficulties, while the remedy was
also close at hand; a word from him might terminate the general
embarrassment. Prince Eggenberg at length received orders, for the
third and last time, at any cost and sacrifice, to induce his friend,
Wallenstein, to accept the command.
He found him at Znaim in Moravia, pompously surrounded by the troops,
the possession of which he made the Emperor so earnestly to long for. As
a suppliant did the haughty subject receive the deputy of his sovereign.
"He never could trust," he said, "to a restoration to command, which he
owed to the Emperor's necessities, and not to his sense of justice. He
was now courted, because the danger had reached its height, and safety
was hoped for from his arm only; but his successful services would soon
cause the servant to be forgotten, and the return of security would
bring back renewed ingratitude. If he deceived the expectations formed
of him, his long earned renown would be forfeited; even if he fulfilled
them, his repose and happiness must be sacrificed. Soon would envy be
excited anew, and the dependent monarch would not hesitate, a second
time, to make an offering of convenience to a servant whom he could now
dispense with. Better for him at once, and voluntarily, to resign a post
from which sooner or later the intrigues of his enemies would expel him.
Security and content were to be found in the bosom of private life; and
nothing but the wish to oblige the Emperor had induced him, reluctantly
enough, to relinquish for a time his blissful repose."
Tired of this long farce, the minister at last assumed a serious tone,
and threatened the obstinate duke with the Emperor's resentment, if
he persisted in his refusal. "Low enough had the imperial dignity," he
added, "stooped already; and yet, instead of exciting his magnanimity
by its condescension, had only flattered his pride and increased his
obstinacy. If this sacrifice had been made in vain, he would not answer,
but that the suppliant might be converted into the sovereign, and that
the monarch might not avenge his injured dignity on his rebellious
subject. However greatly Ferdinand may have erred, the Emperor at least
had a claim to obedience; the man might be mistaken, but the monarch
could not confess his error. If the Duke of Friedland had suffered by an
unjust decree, he might yet be recompensed for all his losses; the wound
which it had itself inflicted, the hand of Majesty might heal. If he
asked security for his person and his dignities, the Emperor's equity
would refuse him no reasonable demand. Majesty contemned, admitted
not of any atonement; disobedience to its commands cancelled the most
brilliant services. The Emperor required his services, and as emperor
he demanded them. Whatever price Wallenstein might set upon them, the
Emperor would readily agree to; but he demanded obedience, or the weight
of his indignation should crush the refractory servant."
Wallenstein, whose extensive possessions within the Austrian monarchy
were momentarily exposed to the power of the Emperor, was keenly
sensible that this was no idle threat; yet it was not fear that at last
overcame his affected reluctance. This imperious tone of itself, was to
his mind a plain proof of the weakness and despair which dictated it,
while the Emperor's readiness to yield all his demands, convinced him
that he had attained the summit of his wishes. He now made a show of
yielding to the persuasions of Eggenberg; and left him, in order to
write down the conditions on which he accepted the command.
Not without apprehension, did the minister receive the writing, in
which the proudest of subjects had prescribed laws to the proudest of
sovereigns. But however little confidence he had in the moderation of
his friend, the extravagant contents of his writing surpassed even his
worst expectations. Wallenstein required the uncontrolled command over
all the German armies of Austria and Spain, with unlimited powers to
reward and punish. Neither the King of Hungary, nor the Emperor himself,
were to appear in the army, still less to exercise any act of authority
over it. No commission in the army, no pension or letter of grace, was
to be granted by the Emperor without Wallenstein's approval. All the
conquests and confiscations that should take place, were to be placed
entirely at Wallenstein's disposal, to the exclusion of every other
tribunal. For his ordinary pay, an imperial hereditary estate was to be
assigned him, with another of the conquered estates within the empire
for his extraordinary expenses. Every Austrian province was to be opened
to him if he required it in case of retreat. He farther demanded the
assurance of the possession of the Duchy of Mecklenburg, in the event
of a future peace; and a formal and timely intimation, if it should be
deemed necessary a second time to deprive him of the command.
In vain the minister entreated him to moderate his demands, which, if
granted, would deprive the Emperor of all authority over his own troops,
and make him absolutely dependent on his general. The value placed on
his services had been too plainly manifested to prevent him dictating
the price at which they were to be purchased. If the pressure of
circumstances compelled the Emperor to grant these demands, it was more
than a mere feeling of haughtiness and desire of revenge which induced
the duke to make them. His plans of rebellion were formed, to their
success, every one of the conditions for which Wallenstein stipulated in
this treaty with the court, was indispensable. Those plans required
that the Emperor should be deprived of all authority in Germany, and be
placed at the mercy of his general; and this object would be attained,
the moment Ferdinand subscribed the required conditions. The use which
Wallenstein intended to make of his army, (widely different indeed from
that for which it was entrusted to him,) brooked not of a divided power,
and still less of an authority superior to his own. To be the sole
master of the will of his troops, he must also be the sole master of
their destinies; insensibly to supplant his sovereign, and to transfer
permanently to his own person the rights of sovereignty, which were only
lent to him for a time by a higher authority, he must cautiously keep
the latter out of the view of the army. Hence his obstinate refusal to
allow any prince of the house of Austria to be present with the army.
The liberty of free disposal of all the conquered and confiscated
estates in the empire, would also afford him fearful means of purchasing
dependents and instruments of his plans, and of acting the dictator in
Germany more absolutely than ever any Emperor did in time of peace. By
the right to use any of the Austrian provinces as a place of refuge, in
case of need, he had full power to hold the Emperor a prisoner by means
of his own forces, and within his own dominions; to exhaust the strength
and resources of these countries, and to undermine the power of Austria
in its very foundation.
Whatever might be the issue, he had equally secured his own advantage,
by the conditions he had extorted from the Emperor. If circumstances
proved favourable to his daring project, this treaty with the Emperor
facilitated its execution; if on the contrary, the course of things ran
counter to it, it would at least afford him a brilliant compensation for
the failure of his plans. But how could he consider an agreement valid,
which was extorted from his sovereign, and based upon treason? How could
he hope to bind the Emperor by a written agreement, in the face of a law
which condemned to death every one who should have the presumption to
impose conditions upon him? But this criminal was the most indispensable
man in the empire, and Ferdinand, well practised in dissimulation,
granted him for the present all he required.
At last, then, the imperial army had found a commander-in-chief worthy
of the name. Every other authority in the army, even that of the Emperor
himself, ceased from the moment Wallenstein assumed the commander's
baton, and every act was invalid which did not proceed from him. From
the banks of the Danube, to those of the Weser and the Oder, was felt
the life-giving dawning of this new star; a new spirit seemed to inspire
the troops of the emperor, a new epoch of the war began. The Papists
form fresh hopes, the Protestant beholds with anxiety the changed course
of affairs.
The greater the price at which the services of the new general had been
purchased, the greater justly were the expectations from those which the
court of the Emperor entertained. But the duke was in no hurry to fulfil
these expectations. Already in the vicinity of Bohemia, and at the head
of a formidable force, he had but to show himself there, in order to
overpower the exhausted force of the Saxons, and brilliantly to commence
his new career by the reconquest of that kingdom. But, contented
with harassing the enemy with indecisive skirmishes of his Croats,
he abandoned the best part of that kingdom to be plundered, and moved
calmly forward in pursuit of his own selfish plans. His design was, not
to conquer the Saxons, but to unite with them. Exclusively occupied with
this important object, he remained inactive in the hope of conquering
more surely by means of negociation. He left no expedient untried, to
detach this prince from the Swedish alliance; and Ferdinand himself,
ever inclined to an accommodation with this prince, approved of this
proceeding. But the great debt which Saxony owed to Sweden, was as yet
too freshly remembered to allow of such an act of perfidy; and even
had the Elector been disposed to yield to the temptation, the equivocal
character of Wallenstein, and the bad character of Austrian policy,
precluded any reliance in the integrity of its promises. Notorious
already as a treacherous statesman, he met not with faith upon the very
occasion when perhaps he intended to act honestly; and, moreover, was
denied, by circumstances, the opportunity of proving the sincerity of
his intentions, by the disclosure of his real motives.
He, therefore, unwillingly resolved to extort, by force of arms, what
he could not obtain by negociation. Suddenly assembling his troops, he
appeared before Prague ere the Saxons had time to advance to its relief.
After a short resistance, the treachery of some Capuchins opens the
gates to one of his regiments; and the garrison, who had taken refuge
in the citadel, soon laid down their arms upon disgraceful conditions.
Master of the capital, he hoped to carry on more successfully his
negociations at the Saxon court; but even while he was renewing his
proposals to Arnheim, he did not hesitate to give them weight by
striking a decisive blow. He hastened to seize the narrow passes between
Aussig and Pirna, with a view of cutting off the retreat of the Saxons
into their own country; but the rapidity of Arnheim's operations
fortunately extricated them from the danger. After the retreat of
this general, Egra and Leutmeritz, the last strongholds of the Saxons,
surrendered to the conqueror: and the whole kingdom was restored to its
legitimate sovereign, in less time than it had been lost.
Wallenstein, less occupied with the interests of his master, than with
the furtherance of his own plans, now purposed to carry the war into
Saxony, and by ravaging his territories, compel the Elector to enter
into a private treaty with the Emperor, or rather with himself. But,
however little accustomed he was to make his will bend to circumstances,
he now perceived the necessity of postponing his favourite scheme for a
time, to a more pressing emergency. While he was driving the Saxons
from Bohemia, Gustavus Adolphus had been gaining the victories, already
detailed, on the Rhine and the Danube, and carried the war through
Franconia and Swabia, to the frontiers of Bavaria. Maximilian, defeated
on the Lech, and deprived by death of Count Tilly, his best support,
urgently solicited the Emperor to send with all speed the Duke of
Friedland to his assistance, from Bohemia, and by the defence of
Bavaria, to avert the danger from Austria itself. He also made the same
request to Wallenstein, and entreated him, till he could himself come
with the main force, to despatch in the mean time a few regiments to
his aid. Ferdinand seconded the request with all his influence, and
one messenger after another was sent to Wallenstein, urging him to move
towards the Danube.
It now appeared how completely the Emperor had sacrificed his
authority, in surrendering to another the supreme command of his troops.
Indifferent to Maximilian's entreaties, and deaf to the Emperor's
repeated commands, Wallenstein remained inactive in Bohemia, and
abandoned the Elector to his fate. The remembrance of the evil service
which Maximilian had rendered him with the Emperor, at the Diet at
Ratisbon, was deeply engraved on the implacable mind of the duke, and
the Elector's late attempts to prevent his reinstatement, were no
secret to him. The moment of revenging this affront had now arrived, and
Maximilian was doomed to pay dearly for his folly, in provoking the most
revengeful of men. Wallenstein maintained, that Bohemia ought not to be
left exposed, and that Austria could not be better protected, than by
allowing the Swedish army to waste its strength before the Bavarian
fortress. Thus, by the arm of the Swedes, he chastised his enemy; and
while one place after another fell into their hands, he allowed the
Elector vainly to await his arrival in Ratisbon. It was only when
the complete subjugation of Bohemia left him without excuse, and the
conquests of Gustavus Adolphus in Bavaria threatened Austria itself,
that he yielded to the pressing entreaties of the Elector and the
Emperor, and determined to effect the long-expected union with the
former; an event, which, according to the general anticipation of the
Roman Catholics, would decide the fate of the campaign.
Gustavus Adolphus, too weak in numbers to cope even with Wallenstein's
force alone, naturally dreaded the junction of such powerful armies,
and the little energy he used to prevent it, was the occasion of great
surprise. Apparently he reckoned too much on the hatred which alienated
the leaders, and seemed to render their effectual co-operation
improbable; when the event contradicted his views, it was too late to
repair his error. On the first certain intelligence he received of
their designs, he hastened to the Upper Palatinate, for the purpose of
intercepting the Elector: but the latter had already arrived there, and
the junction had been effected at Egra.
This frontier town had been chosen by Wallenstein, for the scene of his
triumph over his proud rival. Not content with having seen him, as it
were, a suppliant at his feet, he imposed upon him the hard condition of
leaving his territories in his rear exposed to the enemy, and declaring
by this long march to meet him, the necessity and distress to which
he was reduced. Even to this humiliation, the haughty prince patiently
submitted. It had cost him a severe struggle to ask for protection of
the man who, if his own wishes had been consulted, would never have had
the power of granting it: but having once made up his mind to it, he
was ready to bear all the annoyances which were inseparable from
that resolve, and sufficiently master of himself to put up with petty
grievances, when an important end was in view.
But whatever pains it had cost to effect this junction, it was equally
difficult to settle the conditions on which it was to be maintained. The
united army must be placed under the command of one individual, if
any object was to be gained by the union, and each general was equally
averse to yield to the superior authority of the other. If Maximilian
rested his claim on his electoral dignity, the nobleness of his descent,
and his influence in the empire, Wallenstein's military renown, and
the unlimited command conferred on him by the Emperor, gave an equally
strong title to it. If it was deeply humiliating to the pride of the
former to serve under an imperial subject, the idea of imposing laws on
so imperious a spirit, flattered in the same degree the haughtiness of
Wallenstein. An obstinate dispute ensued, which, however, terminated in
a mutual compromise to Wallenstein's advantage. To him was assigned
the unlimited command of both armies, particularly in battle, while the
Elector was deprived of all power of altering the order of battle, or
even the route of the army. He retained only the bare right of punishing
and rewarding his own troops, and the free use of these, when not acting
in conjunction with the Imperialists.
After these preliminaries were settled, the two generals at last
ventured upon an interview; but not until they had mutually promised
to bury the past in oblivion, and all the outward formalities of a
reconciliation had been settled. According to agreement, they publicly
embraced in the sight of their troops, and made mutual professions of
friendship, while in reality the hearts of both were overflowing with
malice. Maximilian, well versed in dissimulation, had sufficient command
over himself, not to betray in a single feature his real feelings; but
a malicious triumph sparkled in the eyes of Wallenstein, and the
constraint which was visible in all his movements, betrayed the violence
of the emotion which overpowered his proud soul.
The combined Imperial and Bavarian armies amounted to nearly 60,000 men,
chiefly veterans. Before this force, the King of Sweden was not in a
condition to keep the field. As his attempt to prevent their junction
had failed, he commenced a rapid retreat into Franconia, and awaited
there for some decisive movement on the part of the enemy, in order
to form his own plans. The position of the combined armies between the
frontiers of Saxony and Bavaria, left it for some time doubtful whether
they would remove the war into the former, or endeavour to drive the
Swedes from the Danube, and deliver Bavaria. Saxony had been stripped
of troops by Arnheim, who was pursuing his conquests in Silesia; not
without a secret design, it was generally supposed, of favouring the
entrance of the Duke of Friedland into that electorate, and of thus
driving the irresolute John George into peace with the Emperor. Gustavus
Adolphus himself, fully persuaded that Wallenstein's views were directed
against Saxony, hastily despatched a strong reinforcement to the
assistance of his confederate, with the intention, as soon as
circumstances would allow, of following with the main body. But the
movements of Wallenstein's army soon led him to suspect that he himself
was the object of attack; and the Duke's march through the Upper
Palatinate, placed the matter beyond a doubt. The question now was,
how to provide for his own security, and the prize was no longer his
supremacy, but his very existence. His fertile genius must now supply
the means, not of conquest, but of preservation. The approach of the
enemy had surprised him before he had time to concentrate his troops,
which were scattered all over Germany, or to summon his allies to his
aid. Too weak to meet the enemy in the field, he had no choice left, but
either to throw himself into Nuremberg, and run the risk of being shut
up in its walls, or to sacrifice that city, and await a reinforcement
under the cannon of Donauwerth. Indifferent to danger or difficulty,
while he obeyed the call of humanity or honour, he chose the first
without hesitation, firmly resolved to bury himself with his whole army
under the ruins of Nuremberg, rather than to purchase his own safety by
the sacrifice of his confederates.
Measures were immediately taken to surround the city and suburbs with
redoubts, and to form an entrenched camp. Several thousand workmen
immediately commenced this extensive work, and an heroic determination
to hazard life and property in the common cause, animated the
inhabitants of Nuremberg. A trench, eight feet deep and twelve broad,
surrounded the whole fortification; the lines were defended by redoubts
and batteries, the gates by half moons. The river Pegnitz, which flows
through Nuremberg, divided the whole camp into two semicircles, whose
communication was secured by several bridges. About three hundred pieces
of cannon defended the town-walls and the intrenchments. The peasantry
from the neighbouring villages, and the inhabitants of Nuremberg,
assisted the Swedish soldiers so zealously, that on the seventh day the
army was able to enter the camp, and, in a fortnight, this great work
was completed.
While these operations were carried on without the walls, the
magistrates of Nuremberg were busily occupied in filling the magazines
with provisions and ammunition for a long siege. Measures were taken, at
the same time, to secure the health of the inhabitants, which was likely
to be endangered by the conflux of so many people; cleanliness was
enforced by the strictest regulations. In order, if necessary, to
support the King, the youth of the city were embodied and trained
to arms, the militia of the town considerably reinforced, and a new
regiment raised, consisting of four-and-twenty names, according to the
letters of the alphabet. Gustavus had, in the mean time, called to his
assistance his allies, Duke William of Weimar, and the Landgrave of
Hesse Cassel; and ordered his generals on the Rhine, in Thuringia and
Lower Saxony, to commence their march immediately, and join him with
their troops in Nuremberg. His army, which was encamped within the
lines, did not amount to more than 16,000 men, scarcely a third of the
enemy.
The Imperialists had, in the mean time, by slow marches, advanced to
Neumark, where Wallenstein made a general review. At the sight of this
formidable force, he could not refrain from indulging in a childish
boast: "In four days," said he, "it will be shown whether I or the
King of Sweden is to be master of the world." Yet, notwithstanding his
superiority, he did nothing to fulfil his promise; and even let slip the
opportunity of crushing his enemy, when the latter had the hardihood to
leave his lines to meet him. "Battles enough have been fought," was his
answer to those who advised him to attack the King, "it is now time to
try another method." Wallenstein's well-founded reputation required not
any of those rash enterprises on which younger soldiers rush, in the
hope of gaining a name. Satisfied that the enemy's despair would dearly
sell a victory, while a defeat would irretrievably ruin the Emperor's
affairs, he resolved to wear out the ardour of his opponent by a tedious
blockade, and by thus depriving him of every opportunity of availing
himself of his impetuous bravery, take from him the very advantage
which had hitherto rendered him invincible. Without making any attack,
therefore, he erected a strong fortified camp on the other side of the
Pegnitz, and opposite Nuremberg; and, by this well chosen position, cut
off from the city and the camp of Gustavus all supplies from Franconia,
Swabia, and Thuringia. Thus he held in siege at once the city and the
King, and flattered himself with the hope of slowly, but surely, wearing
out by famine and pestilence the courage of his opponent whom he had no
wish to encounter in the field.
Little aware, however, of the resources and the strength of his
adversary, Wallenstein had not taken sufficient precautions to avert
from himself the fate he was designing for others. From the whole of the
neighbouring country, the peasantry had fled with their property; and
what little provision remained, must be obstinately contested with the
Swedes. The King spared the magazines within the town, as long as it was
possible to provision his army from without; and these forays produced
constant skirmishes between the Croats and the Swedish cavalry, of
which the surrounding country exhibited the most melancholy traces. The
necessaries of life must be obtained sword in hand; and the foraging
parties could not venture out without a numerous escort. And when
this supply failed, the town opened its magazines to the King, but
Wallenstein had to support his troops from a distance. A large convoy
from Bavaria was on its way to him, with an escort of a thousand
men. Gustavus Adolphus having received intelligence of its approach,
immediately sent out a regiment of cavalry to intercept it; and the
darkness of the night favoured the enterprise. The whole convoy,
with the town in which it was, fell into the hands of the Swedes; the
Imperial escort was cut to pieces; about 1,200 cattle carried off; and
a thousand waggons, loaded with bread, which could not be brought away,
were set on fire. Seven regiments, which Wallenstein had sent forward to
Altdorp to cover the entrance of the long and anxiously expected convoy,
were attacked by the King, who had, in like manner, advanced to cover
the retreat of his cavalry, and routed after an obstinate action, being
driven back into the Imperial camp, with the loss of 400 men. So many
checks and difficulties, and so firm and unexpected a resistance on the
part of the King, made the Duke of Friedland repent that he had declined
to hazard a battle. The strength of the Swedish camp rendered an attack
impracticable; and the armed youth of Nuremberg served the King as
a nursery from which he could supply his loss of troops. The want of
provisions, which began to be felt in the Imperial camp as strongly
as in the Swedish, rendered it uncertain which party would be first
compelled to give way.
Fifteen days had the two armies now remained in view of each other,
equally defended by inaccessible entrenchments, without attempting
anything more than slight attacks and unimportant skirmishes. On both
sides, infectious diseases, the natural consequence of bad food, and a
crowded population, had occasioned a greater loss than the sword. And
this evil daily increased. But at length, the long expected succours
arrived in the Swedish camp; and by this strong reinforcement, the King
was now enabled to obey the dictates of his native courage, and to break
the chains which had hitherto fettered him.
In obedience to his requisitions, the Duke of Weimar had hastily drawn
together a corps from the garrisons in Lower Saxony and Thuringia,
which, at Schweinfurt in Franconia, was joined by four Saxon regiments,
and at Kitzingen by the corps of the Rhine, which the Landgrave of
Hesse, and the Palatine of Birkenfeld, despatched to the relief of the
King. The Chancellor, Oxenstiern, undertook to lead this force to its
destination. After being joined at Windsheim by the Duke of Weimar
himself, and the Swedish General Banner, he advanced by rapid marches
to Bruck and Eltersdorf, where he passed the Rednitz, and reached the
Swedish camp in safety. This reinforcement amounted to nearly 50,000
men, and was attended by a train of 60 pieces of cannon, and 4,000
baggage waggons. Gustavus now saw himself at the head of an army of
nearly 70,000 strong, without reckoning the militia of Nuremberg, which,
in case of necessity, could bring into the field about 30,000 fighting
men; a formidable force, opposed to another not less formidable. The war
seemed at length compressed to the point of a single battle, which was
to decide its fearful issue. With divided sympathies, Europe looked with
anxiety to this scene, where the whole strength of the two contending
parties was fearfully drawn, as it were, to a focus.
If, before the arrival of the Swedish succours, a want of provisions had
been felt, the evil was now fearfully increased to a dreadful height
in both camps, for Wallenstein had also received reinforcements from
Bavaria. Besides the 120,000 men confronted to each other, and more
than 50,000 horses, in the two armies, and besides the inhabitants of
Nuremberg, whose number far exceeded the Swedish army, there were in the
camp of Wallenstein about 15,000 women, with as many drivers, and nearly
the same number in that of the Swedes. The custom of the time permitted
the soldier to carry his family with him to the field. A number
of prostitutes followed the Imperialists; while, with the view of
preventing such excesses, Gustavus's care for the morals of his soldiers
promoted marriages. For the rising generation, who had this camp for
their home and country, regular military schools were established, which
educated a race of excellent warriors, by which means the army might
in a manner recruit itself in the course of a long campaign. No wonder,
then, if these wandering nations exhausted every territory in which they
encamped, and by their immense consumption raised the necessaries
of life to an exorbitant price. All the mills of Nuremberg were
insufficient to grind the corn required for each day; and 15,000 pounds
of bread, which were daily delivered, by the town into the Swedish camp,
excited, without allaying, the hunger of the soldiers. The laudable
exertions of the magistrates of Nuremberg could not prevent the greater
part of the horses from dying for want of forage, while the increasing
mortality in the camp consigned more than a hundred men daily to the
grave.
To put an end to these distresses, Gustavus Adolphus, relying on his
numerical superiority, left his lines on the 25th day, forming before
the enemy in order of battle, while he cannonaded the duke's camp
from three batteries erected on the side of the Rednitz. But the duke
remained immoveable in his entrenchments, and contented himself with
answering this challenge by a distant fire of cannon and musketry. His
plan was to wear out the king by his inactivity, and by the force
of famine to overcome his resolute determination; and neither the
remonstrances of Maximilian, and the impatience of his army, nor the
ridicule of his opponent, could shake his purpose. Gustavus, deceived
in his hope of forcing a battle, and compelled by his increasing
necessities, now attempted impossibilities, and resolved to storm a
position which art and nature had combined to render impregnable.
Intrusting his own camp to the militia of Nuremberg, on the fifty-eighth
day of his encampment, (the festival of St. Bartholomew,) he advanced in
full order of battle, and passing the Rednitz at Furth, easily drove
the enemy's outposts before him. The main army of the Imperialists was
posted on the steep heights between the Biber and the Rednitz, called
the Old Fortress and Altenberg; while the camp itself, commanded by
these eminences, spread out immeasurably along the plain. On these
heights, the whole of the artillery was placed. Deep trenches surrounded
inaccessible redoubts, while thick barricadoes, with pointed palisades,
defended the approaches to the heights, from the summits of which,
Wallenstein calmly and securely discharged the lightnings of his
artillery from amid the dark thunder-clouds of smoke. A destructive fire
of musketry was maintained behind the breastworks, and a hundred pieces
of cannon threatened the desperate assailant with certain destruction.
Against this dangerous post Gustavus now directed his attack; five
hundred musketeers, supported by a few infantry, (for a greater number
could not act in the narrow space,) enjoyed the unenvied privilege of
first throwing themselves into the open jaws of death. The assault was
furious, the resistance obstinate. Exposed to the whole fire of the
enemy's artillery, and infuriate by the prospect of inevitable death,
these determined warriors rushed forward to storm the heights; which,
in an instant, converted into a flaming volcano, discharged on them a
shower of shot. At the same moment, the heavy cavalry rushed forward
into the openings which the artillery had made in the close ranks of the
assailants, and divided them; till the intrepid band, conquered by the
strength of nature and of man, took to flight, leaving a hundred dead
upon the field. To Germans had Gustavus yielded this post of honour.
Exasperated at their retreat, he now led on his Finlanders to the
attack, thinking, by their northern courage, to shame the cowardice of
the Germans. But they, also, after a similar hot reception, yielded to
the superiority of the enemy; and a third regiment succeeded them to
experience the same fate. This was replaced by a fourth, a fifth, and a
sixth; so that, during a ten hours' action, every regiment was brought
to the attack to retire with bloody loss from the contest. A thousand
mangled bodies covered the field; yet Gustavus undauntedly maintained
the attack, and Wallenstein held his position unshaken.
In the mean time, a sharp contest had taken place between the imperial
cavalry and the left wing of the Swedes, which was posted in a thicket
on the Rednitz, with varying success, but with equal intrepidity and
loss on both sides. The Duke of Friedland and Prince Bernard of Weimar
had each a horse shot under them; the king himself had the sole of
his boot carried off by a cannon ball. The combat was maintained
with undiminished obstinacy, till the approach of night separated the
combatants. But the Swedes had advanced too far to retreat without
hazard. While the king was seeking an officer to convey to the regiments
the order to retreat, he met Colonel Hepburn, a brave Scotchman, whose
native courage alone had drawn him from the camp to share in the dangers
of the day. Offended with the king for having not long before preferred
a younger officer for some post of danger, he had rashly vowed never
again to draw his sword for the king. To him Gustavus now addressed
himself, praising his courage, and requesting him to order the regiments
to retreat. "Sire," replied the brave soldier, "it is the only service
I cannot refuse to your Majesty; for it is a hazardous one," -- and
immediately hastened to carry the command. One of the heights above the
old fortress had, in the heat of the action, been carried by the Duke
of Weimar. It commanded the hills and the whole camp. But the heavy
rain which fell during the night, rendered it impossible to draw up the
cannon; and this post, which had been gained with so much bloodshed, was
also voluntarily abandoned. Diffident of fortune, which forsook him on
this decisive day, the king did not venture the following morning to
renew the attack with his exhausted troops; and vanquished for the first
time, even because he was not victor, he led back his troops over
the Rednitz. Two thousand dead which he left behind him on the field,
testified to the extent of his loss; and the Duke of Friedland remained
unconquered within his lines.
For fourteen days after this action, the two armies still continued in
front of each other, each in the hope that the other would be the first
to give way. Every day reduced their provisions, and as scarcity became
greater, the excesses of the soldiers rendered furious, exercised the
wildest outrages on the peasantry. The increasing distress broke up all
discipline and order in the Swedish camp; and the German regiments,
in particular, distinguished themselves for the ravages they practised
indiscriminately on friend and foe. The weak hand of a single individual
could not check excesses, encouraged by the silence, if not the
actual example, of the inferior officers. These shameful breaches of
discipline, on the maintenance of which he had hitherto justly prided
himself, severely pained the king; and the vehemence with which he
reproached the German officers for their negligence, bespoke the
liveliness of his emotion. "It is you yourselves, Germans," said he,
"that rob your native country, and ruin your own confederates in the
faith. As God is my judge, I abhor you, I loathe you; my heart sinks
within me whenever I look upon you. Ye break my orders; ye are the cause
that the world curses me, that the tears of poverty follow me, that
complaints ring in my ear -- `The king, our friend, does us more harm
than even our worst enemies.' On your account I have stripped my own
kingdom of its treasures, and spent upon you more than 40 tons of gold*;
while from your German empire I have not received the least aid. I gave
you a share of all that God had given to me; and had ye regarded my
orders, I would have gladly shared with you all my future acquisitions.
Your want of discipline convinces me of your evil intentions, whatever
cause I might otherwise have to applaud your bravery."
-- * A ton of gold in Sweden amounts to 100,000 rix dollars. --
Nuremberg had exerted itself, almost beyond its power, to subsist for
eleven weeks the vast crowd which was compressed within its boundaries;
but its means were at length exhausted, and the king's more numerous
party was obliged to determine on a retreat. By the casualties of war
and sickness, Nuremberg had lost more than 10,000 of its inhabitants,
and Gustavus Adolphus nearly 20,000 of his soldiers. The fields around
the city were trampled down, the villages lay in ashes, the plundered
peasantry lay faint and dying on the highways; foul odours infected the
air, and bad food, the exhalations from so dense a population, and
so many putrifying carcasses, together with the heat of the dog-days,
produced a desolating pestilence which raged among men and beasts, and
long after the retreat of both armies, continued to load the country
with misery and distress. Affected by the general distress, and
despairing of conquering the steady determination of the Duke of
Friedland, the king broke up his camp on the 8th September, leaving in
Nuremberg a sufficient garrison. He advanced in full order of battle
before the enemy, who remained motionless, and did not attempt in the
least to harass his retreat. His route lay by the Aisch and Windsheim
towards Neustadt, where he halted five days to refresh his troops, and
also to be near to Nuremberg, in case the enemy should make an attempt
upon the town. But Wallenstein, as exhausted as himself, had only
awaited the retreat of the Swedes to commence his own. Five days
afterwards, he broke up his camp at Zirndorf, and set it on fire. A
hundred columns of smoke, rising from all the burning villages in the
neighbourhood, announced his retreat, and showed the city the fate it
had escaped. His march, which was directed on Forchheim, was marked by
the most frightful ravages; but he was too far advanced to be overtaken
by the king. The latter now divided his army, which the exhausted
country was unable to support, and leaving one division to protect
Franconia, with the other he prosecuted in person his conquests in
Bavaria.
In the mean time, the imperial Bavarian army had marched into the
Bishopric of Bamberg, where the Duke of Friedland a second time mustered
his troops. He found this force, which so lately had amounted to 60,000
men, diminished by the sword, desertion, and disease, to about 24,000,
and of these a fourth were Bavarians. Thus had the encampments before
Nuremberg weakened both parties more than two great battles would
have done, apparently without advancing the termination of the war,
or satisfying, by any decisive result, the expectations of Europe. The
king's conquests in Bavaria, were, it is true, checked for a time by
this diversion before Nuremberg, and Austria itself secured against the
danger of immediate invasion; but by the retreat of the king from that
city, he was again left at full liberty to make Bavaria the seat of war.
Indifferent towards the fate of that country, and weary of the restraint
which his union with the Elector imposed upon him, the Duke of Friedland
eagerly seized the opportunity of separating from this burdensome
associate, and prosecuting, with renewed earnestness, his favourite
plans. Still adhering to his purpose of detaching Saxony from its
Swedish alliance, he selected that country for his winter quarters,
hoping by his destructive presence to force the Elector the more readily
into his views.
No conjuncture could be more favourable for his designs. The Saxons
had invaded Silesia, where, reinforced by troops from Brandenburgh and
Sweden, they had gained several advantages over the Emperor's troops.
Silesia would be saved by a diversion against the Elector in his
own territories, and the attempt was the more easy, as Saxony, left
undefended during the war in Silesia, lay open on every side to attack.
The pretext of rescuing from the enemy an hereditary dominion of
Austria, would silence the remonstrances of the Elector of Bavaria,
and, under the mask of a patriotic zeal for the Emperor's interests,
Maximilian might be sacrificed without much difficulty. By giving up the
rich country of Bavaria to the Swedes, he hoped to be left unmolested
by them in his enterprise against Saxony, while the increasing coldness
between Gustavus and the Saxon Court, gave him little reason to
apprehend any extraordinary zeal for the deliverance of John George.
Thus a second time abandoned by his artful protector, the Elector
separated from Wallenstein at Bamberg, to protect his defenceless
territory with the small remains of his troops, while the imperial
army, under Wallenstein, directed its march through Bayreuth and Coburg
towards the Thuringian Forest.
An imperial general, Holk, had previously been sent into Vogtland with
6,000 men, to waste this defenceless province with fire and sword, he
was soon followed by Gallas, another of the Duke's generals, and an
equally faithful instrument of his inhuman orders. Finally, Pappenheim,
too, was recalled from Lower Saxony, to reinforce the diminished army
of the duke, and to complete the miseries of the devoted country. Ruined
churches, villages in ashes, harvests wilfully destroyed, families
plundered, and murdered peasants, marked the progress of these
barbarians, under whose scourge the whole of Thuringia, Vogtland,
and Meissen, lay defenceless. Yet this was but the prelude to greater
sufferings, with which Wallenstein himself, at the head of the main
army, threatened Saxony. After having left behind him fearful monuments
of his fury, in his march through Franconia and Thuringia, he arrived
with his whole army in the Circle of Leipzig, and compelled the city,
after a short resistance, to surrender. His design was to push on to
Dresden, and by the conquest of the whole country, to prescribe laws
to the Elector. He had already approached the Mulda, threatening to
overpower the Saxon army which had advanced as far as Torgau to meet
him, when the King of Sweden's arrival at Erfurt gave an unexpected
check to his operations. Placed between the Saxon and Swedish armies,
which were likely to be farther reinforced by the troops of George, Duke
of Luneburg, from Lower Saxony, he hastily retired upon Meresberg, to
form a junction there with Count Pappenheim, and to repel the further
advance of the Swedes.
Gustavus Adolphus had witnessed, with great uneasiness, the arts
employed by Spain and Austria to detach his allies from him. The more
important his alliance with Saxony, the more anxiety the inconstant
temper of John George caused him. Between himself and the Elector, a
sincere friendship could never subsist. A prince, proud of his political
importance, and accustomed to consider himself as the head of his party,
could not see without annoyance the interference of a foreign power in
the affairs of the Empire; and nothing, but the extreme danger of his
dominions, could overcome the aversion with which he had long witnessed
the progress of this unwelcome intruder. The increasing influence of
the king in Germany, his authority with the Protestant states, the
unambiguous proofs which he gave of his ambitious views, which were of
a character calculated to excite the jealousies of all the states of the
Empire, awakened in the Elector's breast a thousand anxieties, which the
imperial emissaries did not fail skilfully to keep alive and cherish.
Every arbitrary step on the part of the King, every demand, however
reasonable, which he addressed to the princes of the Empire, was
followed by bitter complaints from the Elector, which seemed to announce
an approaching rupture. Even the generals of the two powers, whenever
they were called upon to act in common, manifested the same jealousy
as divided their leaders. John George's natural aversion to war, and a
lingering attachment to Austria, favoured the efforts of Arnheim;
who, maintaining a constant correspondence with Wallenstein, laboured
incessantly to effect a private treaty between his master and the
Emperor; and if his representations were long disregarded, still the
event proved that they were not altogether without effect.
Gustavus Adolphus, naturally apprehensive of the consequences which the
defection of so powerful an ally would produce on his future prospects
in Germany, spared no pains to avert so pernicious an event; and his
remonstrances had hitherto had some effect upon the Elector. But
the formidable power with which the Emperor seconded his seductive
proposals, and the miseries which, in the case of hesitation, he
threatened to accumulate upon Saxony, might at length overcome the
resolution of the Elector, should he be left exposed to the vengeance
of his enemies; while an indifference to the fate of so powerful a
confederate, would irreparably destroy the confidence of the other
allies in their protector. This consideration induced the king a
second time to yield to the pressing entreaties of the Elector, and to
sacrifice his own brilliant prospects to the safety of this ally. He had
already resolved upon a second attack on Ingoldstadt; and the weakness
of the Elector of Bavaria gave him hopes of soon forcing this exhausted
enemy to accede to a neutrality. An insurrection of the peasantry
in Upper Austria, opened to him a passage into that country, and the
capital might be in his possession, before Wallenstein could have time
to advance to its defence. All these views he now gave up for the sake
of an ally, who, neither by his services nor his fidelity, was worthy
of the sacrifice; who, on the pressing occasions of common good, had
steadily adhered to his own selfish projects; and who was important, not
for the services he was expected to render, but merely for the injuries
he had it in his power to inflict. Is it possible, then, to refrain from
indignation, when we know that, in this expedition, undertaken for the
benefit of such an ally, the great king was destined to terminate his
career?
Rapidly assembling his troops in Franconia, he followed the route of
Wallenstein through Thuringia. Duke Bernard of Weimar, who had been
despatched to act against Pappenheim, joined the king at Armstadt, who
now saw himself at the head of 20,000 veterans. At Erfurt he took
leave of his queen, who was not to behold him, save in his coffin,
at Weissenfels. Their anxious adieus seemed to forbode an eternal
separation.
He reached Naumburg on the 1st November, 1632, before the corps, which
the Duke of Friedland had despatched for that purpose, could make itself
master of that place. The inhabitants of the surrounding country flocked
in crowds to look upon the hero, the avenger, the great king, who, a
year before, had first appeared in that quarter, like a guardian angel.
Shouts of joy everywhere attended his progress; the people knelt before
him, and struggled for the honour of touching the sheath of his sword,
or the hem of his garment. The modest hero disliked this innocent
tribute which a sincerely grateful and admiring multitude paid him. "Is
it not," said he, "as if this people would make a God of me? Our affairs
prosper, indeed; but I fear the vengeance of Heaven will punish me for
this presumption, and soon enough reveal to this deluded multitude my
human weakness and mortality!" How amiable does Gustavus appear
before us at this moment, when about to leave us for ever! Even in the
plenitude of success, he honours an avenging Nemesis, declines that
homage which is due only to the Immortal, and strengthens his title to
our tears, the nearer the moment approaches that is to call them forth!
In the mean time, the Duke of Friedland had determined to advance
to meet the king, as far as Weissenfels, and even at the hazard of a
battle, to secure his winter-quarters in Saxony. His inactivity before
Nuremberg had occasioned a suspicion that he was unwilling to measure
his powers with those of the Hero of the North, and his hard-earned
reputation would be at stake, if, a second time, he should decline a
battle. His present superiority in numbers, though much less than what
it was at the beginning of the siege of Nuremberg, was still enough to
give him hopes of victory, if he could compel the king to give battle
before his junction with the Saxons. But his present reliance was not
so much in his numerical superiority, as in the predictions of his
astrologer Seni, who had read in the stars that the good fortune of the
Swedish monarch would decline in the month of November. Besides, between
Naumburg and Weissenfels there was also a range of narrow defiles,
formed by a long mountainous ridge, and the river Saal, which ran at
their foot, along which the Swedes could not advance without difficulty,
and which might, with the assistance of a few troops, be rendered almost
impassable. If attacked there, the king would have no choice but either
to penetrate with great danger through the defiles, or commence a
laborious retreat through Thuringia, and to expose the greater part
of his army to a march through a desert country, deficient in every
necessary for their support. But the rapidity with which Gustavus
Adolphus had taken possession of Naumburg, disappointed this plan, and
it was now Wallenstein himself who awaited the attack.
But in this expectation he was disappointed; for the king, instead of
advancing to meet him at Weissenfels, made preparations for entrenching
himself near Naumburg, with the intention of awaiting there the
reinforcements which the Duke of Lunenburg was bringing up. Undecided
whether to advance against the king through the narrow passes between
Weissenfels and Naumburg, or to remain inactive in his camp, he called
a council of war, in order to have the opinion of his most experienced
generals. None of these thought it prudent to attack the king in his
advantageous position. On the other hand, the preparations which the
latter made to fortify his camp, plainly showed that it was not his
intention soon to abandon it. But the approach of winter rendered it
impossible to prolong the campaign, and by a continued encampment to
exhaust the strength of the army, already so much in need of repose. All
voices were in favour of immediately terminating the campaign: and, the
more so, as the important city of Cologne upon the Rhine was threatened
by the Dutch, while the progress of the enemy in Westphalia and the
Lower Rhine called for effective reinforcements in that quarter.
Wallenstein yielded to the weight of these arguments, and almost
convinced that, at this season, he had no reason to apprehend an attack
from the King, he put his troops into winter-quarters, but so that,
if necessary, they might be rapidly assembled. Count Pappenheim was
despatched, with great part of the army, to the assistance of Cologne,
with orders to take possession, on his march, of the fortress of
Moritzburg, in the territory of Halle. Different corps took up their
winter-quarters in the neighbouring towns, to watch, on all sides, the
motions of the enemy. Count Colloredo guarded the castle of Weissenfels,
and Wallenstein himself encamped with the remainder not far from
Merseburg, between Flotzgaben and the Saal, from whence he purposed to
march to Leipzig, and to cut off the communication between the Saxons
and the Swedish army.
Scarcely had Gustavus Adolphus been informed of Pappenheim's departure,
when suddenly breaking up his camp at Naumburg, he hastened with his
whole force to attack the enemy, now weakened to one half. He advanced,
by rapid marches, towards Weissenfels, from whence the news of his
arrival quickly reached the enemy, and greatly astonished the Duke of
Friedland. But a speedy resolution was now necessary; and the measures
of Wallenstein were soon taken. Though he had little more than 12,000
men to oppose to the 20,000 of the enemy, he might hope to maintain
his ground until the return of Pappenheim, who could not have advanced
farther than Halle, five miles distant. Messengers were hastily
despatched to recall him, while Wallenstein moved forward into the wide
plain between the Canal and Lutzen, where he awaited the King in full
order of battle, and, by this position, cut off his communication with
Leipzig and the Saxon auxiliaries.
Three cannon shots, fired by Count Colloredo from the castle of
Weissenfels, announced the king's approach; and at this concerted
signal, the light troops of the Duke of Friedland, under the command of
the Croatian General Isolani, moved forward to possess themselves of the
villages lying upon the Rippach. Their weak resistance did not impede
the advance of the enemy, who crossed the Rippach, near the village of
that name, and formed in line below Lutzen, opposite the Imperialists.
The high road which goes from Weissenfels to Leipzig, is intersected
between Lutzen and Markranstadt by the canal which extends from Zeitz
to Merseburg, and unites the Elster with the Saal. On this canal, rested
the left wing of the Imperialists, and the right of the King of Sweden;
but so that the cavalry of both extended themselves along the opposite
side. To the northward, behind Lutzen, was Wallenstein's right wing, and
to the south of that town was posted the left wing of the Swedes; both
armies fronted the high road, which ran between them, and divided their
order of battle; but the evening before the battle, Wallenstein, to
the great disadvantage of his opponent, had possessed himself of this
highway, deepened the trenches which ran along its sides, and planted
them with musketeers, so as to make the crossing of it both difficult
and dangerous. Behind these, again, was erected a battery of seven large
pieces of cannon, to support the fire from the trenches; and at the
windmills, close behind Lutzen, fourteen smaller field pieces were
ranged on an eminence, from which they could sweep the greater part
of the plain. The infantry, divided into no more than five unwieldy
brigades, was drawn up at the distance of 300 paces from the road, and
the cavalry covered the flanks. All the baggage was sent to
Leipzig, that it might not impede the movements of the army; and the
ammunition-waggons alone remained, which were placed in rear of
the line. To conceal the weakness of the Imperialists, all the
camp-followers and sutlers were mounted, and posted on the left wing,
but only until Pappenheim's troops arrived. These arrangements were made
during the darkness of the night; and when the morning dawned, all was
ready for the reception of the enemy.
On the evening of the same day, Gustavus Adolphus appeared on the
opposite plain, and formed his troops in the order of attack. His
disposition was the same as that which had been so successful the year
before at Leipzig. Small squadrons of horse were interspersed among
the divisions of the infantry, and troops of musketeers placed here and
there among the cavalry. The army was arranged in two lines, the canal
on the right and in its rear, the high road in front, and the town on
the left. In the centre, the infantry was formed, under the command of
Count Brahe; the cavalry on the wings; the artillery in front. To the
German hero, Bernard, Duke of Weimar, was intrusted the command of the
German cavalry of the left wing; while, on the right, the king led
on the Swedes in person, in order to excite the emulation of the two
nations to a noble competition. The second line was formed in the same
manner; and behind these was placed the reserve, commanded by Henderson,
a Scotchman.
In this position, they awaited the eventful dawn of morning, to begin
a contest, which long delay, rather than the probability of decisive
consequences, and the picked body, rather than the number of the
combatants, was to render so terrible and remarkable. The strained
expectation of Europe, so disappointed before Nuremberg, was now to be
gratified on the plains of Lutzen. During the whole course of the war,
two such generals, so equally matched in renown and ability, had not
before been pitted against each other. Never, as yet, had daring been
cooled by so awful a hazard, or hope animated by so glorious a prize.
Europe was next day to learn who was her greatest general: -- to-morrow,
the leader, who had hitherto been invincible, must acknowledge a victor.
This morning was to place it beyond a doubt, whether the victories of
Gustavus at Leipzig and on the Lech, were owing to his own military
genius, or to the incompetency of his opponent; whether the services of
Wallenstein were to vindicate the Emperor's choice, and justify the high
price at which they had been purchased. The victory was as yet doubtful,
but certain were the labour and the bloodshed by which it must be
earned. Every private in both armies, felt a jealous share in their
leader's reputation, and under every corslet beat the same emotions that
inflamed the bosoms of the generals. Each army knew the enemy to which
it was to be opposed: and the anxiety which each in vain attempted to
repress, was a convincing proof of their opponent's strength.
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 leathern doublet and surtout, (for a wound he had
formerly received prevented his wearing armour,) rode along the ranks,
to animate the courage of his troops with a joyful confidence, which,
however, the forboding 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.
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. The nearness of the enemy left no room for fire-arms, 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
pressed, and while he was reconnoitring 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 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 Lauenburg, in French, to lead
him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded towards
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 hands 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.
-- * Gefreyter, a person exempt from watching duty, nearly corresponding
to the corporal. --
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, Smaeland, 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
pressed 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 centre, 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 centre; their resistance became
gradually less, and chance conspired with Swedish valour to complete the
defeat. The imperial powder-waggons 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 pressed 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 the 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 favourable moment to re-form 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 of 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
befel 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
distressed, 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 expressed 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 wing 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 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.
The artillery on both sides, as the horses could not be found, remained
all night upon the field, at once the reward and the evidence of victory
to him who should hold it. Wallenstein, in his haste to leave Leipzig
and Saxony, forgot to remove his part. Not long after the battle was
ended, Pappenheim's infantry, who had been unable to follow the rapid
movements of their general, and who amounted to six regiments,
marched on the field, but the work was done. A few hours earlier, so
considerable a reinforcement would perhaps have decided the day in
favour of the Imperialists; and, even now, by remaining on the field,
they might have saved the duke's artillery, and made a prize of that of
the Swedes. But they had received no orders to act; and, uncertain as
to the issue of the battle, they retired to Leipzig, where they hoped to
join the main body.
The Duke of Friedland had retreated thither, and was followed on the
morrow by the scattered remains of his army, without artillery, without
colours, 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 9,000 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. Many of the principal
nobility had fallen on both sides. Even the Abbot of Fulda, who had
mingled in the combat as a spectator, paid for his curiosity and his
ill-timed zeal with his life. History says nothing of prisoners; a
further proof of the animosity of the combatants, who neither gave nor
took quarter.
Pappenheim died the next day of his wounds at Leipzig; an irreparable
loss to the imperial army, which this brave warrior had so often led on
to victory. The battle of Prague, where, together with Wallenstein,
he was present as colonel, was the beginning of his heroic career.
Dangerously wounded, with a few troops, he made an impetuous attack on
a regiment of the enemy, and lay for several hours mixed with the dead
upon the field, beneath the weight of his horse, till he was discovered
by some of his own men in plundering. With a small force he defeated, in
three different engagements, the rebels in Upper Austria, though 40,000
strong. At the battle of Leipzig, he for a long time delayed the defeat
of Tilly by his bravery, and led the arms of the Emperor on the Elbe and
the Weser to victory. The wild impetuous fire of his temperament, which
no danger, however apparent, could cool, or impossibilities check, made
him the most powerful arm of the imperial force, but unfitted him for
acting at its head. The battle of Leipzig, if Tilly may be believed, was
lost through his rash ardour. At the destruction of Magdeburg, his hands
were deeply steeped in blood; war rendered savage and ferocious his
disposition, which had been cultivated by youthful studies and
various travels. On his forehead, two red streaks, like swords, were
perceptible, with which nature had marked him at his very birth. Even in
his later years, these became visible, as often as his blood was stirred
by passion; and superstition easily persuaded itself, that the future
destiny of the man was thus impressed upon the forehead of the child. As
a faithful servant of the House of Austria, he had the strongest claims
on the gratitude of both its lines, but he did not survive to enjoy the
most brilliant proof of their regard. A messenger was already on his way
from Madrid, bearing to him the order of the Golden Fleece, when death
overtook him at Leipzig.
Though Te Deum, in all Spanish and Austrian lands, was sung in honour
of a victory, Wallenstein himself, by the haste with which he quitted
Leipzig, and soon after all Saxony, and by renouncing his original
design of fixing there his winter quarters, openly confessed his defeat.
It is true he made one more feeble attempt to dispute, even in his
flight, the honour of victory, by sending out his Croats next morning
to the field; but the sight of the Swedish army drawn up in order of
battle, immediately dispersed these flying bands, and Duke Bernard,
by keeping possession of the field, and soon after by the capture of
Leipzig, 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 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 recognised, trampled beneath the horses' hoofs, stripped 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 assumes 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.
The Emperor, we are told by Khevenhuller, showed symptoms of deep, and
apparently sincere feeling, at the sight of the king's doublet stained
with blood, which had been stripped from him during the battle, and
carried to Vienna. "Willingly," said he, "would I have granted to the
unfortunate prince a longer life, and a safe return to his kingdom, had
Germany been at peace." But when a trait, which is nothing more than
a proof of a yet lingering humanity, and which a mere regard to
appearances and even self-love, would have extorted from the most
insensible, and the absence of which could exist only in the most
inhuman heart, has, by a Roman Catholic writer of modern times and
acknowledged merit, been made the subject of the highest eulogium,
and compared with the magnanimous tears of Alexander, for the fall of
Darius, our distrust is excited of the other virtues of the writer's
hero, and what is still worse, of his own ideas of moral dignity. But
even such praise, whatever its amount, is much for one, whose memory
his biographer has to clear from the suspicion of being privy to the
assassination of a king.
It was scarcely to be expected, that the strong leaning of mankind to
the marvellous, would leave to the common course of nature the glory
of ending the career of Gustavus Adolphus. The death of so formidable a
rival was too important an event for the Emperor, not to excite in
his bitter opponent a ready suspicion, that what was so much to his
interests, was also the result of his instigation. For the execution,
however, of this dark deed, the Emperor would require the aid of a
foreign arm, and this it was generally believed he had found in Francis
Albert, Duke of Saxe Lauenburg. The rank of the latter permitted him a
free access to the king's person, while it at the same time seemed to
place him above the suspicion of so foul a deed. This prince, however,
was in fact not incapable of this atrocity, and he had moreover
sufficient motives for its commission.
Francis Albert, the youngest of four sons of Francis II, Duke of
Lauenburg, and related by the mother's side to the race of Vasa, had, in
his early years, found a most friendly reception at the Swedish court.
Some offence which he had committed against Gustavus Adolphus, in the
queen's chamber, was, it is said, repaid by this fiery youth with a box
on the ear; which, though immediately repented of, and amply apologized
for, laid the foundation of an irreconcileable hate in the vindictive
heart of the duke. Francis Albert subsequently entered the imperial
service, where he rose to the command of a regiment, and formed a close
intimacy with Wallenstein, and condescended to be the instrument of a
secret negociation with the Saxon court, which did little honour to his
rank. Without any sufficient cause being assigned, he suddenly quitted
the Austrian service, and appeared in the king's camp at Nuremberg,
to offer his services as a volunteer. By his show of zeal for the
Protestant cause, and prepossessing and flattering deportment, he gained
the heart of the king, who, warned in vain by Oxenstiern, continued
to lavish his favour and friendship on this suspicious new comer. The
battle of Lutzen soon followed, in which Francis Albert, like an evil
genius, kept close to the king's side and did not leave him till he
fell. He owed, it was thought, his own safety amidst the fire of the
enemy, to a green sash which he wore, the colour of the Imperialists.
He was at any rate the first to convey to his friend Wallenstein the
intelligence of the king's death. After the battle, he exchanged the
Swedish service for the Saxon; and, after the murder of Wallenstein,
being charged with being an accomplice of that general, he only escaped
the sword of justice by abjuring his faith. His last appearance in life
was as commander of an imperial army in Silesia, where he died of the
wounds he had received before Schweidnitz. It requires some effort to
believe in the innocence of a man, who had run through a career like
this, of the act charged against him; but, however great may be the
moral and physical possibility of his committing such a crime, it must
still be allowed that there are no certain grounds for imputing it to
him. Gustavus Adolphus, it is well known, exposed himself to danger,
like the meanest soldier in his army, and where thousands fell, he,
too, might naturally meet his death. How it reached him, remains indeed
buried in mystery; but here, more than anywhere, does the maxim apply,
that where the ordinary course of things is fully sufficient to account
for the fact, the honour of human nature ought not to be stained by any
suspicion of moral atrocity.
But by whatever hand he fell, his extraordinary destiny must appear a
great interposition of Providence. History, too often confined to the
ungrateful task of analyzing the uniform play of human passions, is
occasionally rewarded by the appearance of events, which strike like a
hand from heaven, into the nicely adjusted machinery of human plans, and
carry the contemplative mind to a higher order of things. Of this
kind, is the sudden retirement of Gustavus Adolphus from the scene; --
stopping for a time the whole movement of the political machine, and
disappointing all the calculations of human prudence. Yesterday, the
very soul, the great and animating principle of his own creation;
to-day, struck unpitiably to the ground in the very midst of his eagle
flight; untimely torn from a whole world of great designs, and from
the ripening harvest of his expectations, he left his bereaved party
disconsolate; and the proud edifice of his past greatness sunk into
ruins. The Protestant party had identified its hopes with its invincible
leader, and scarcely can it now separate them from him; with him, they
now fear all good fortune is buried. But it was no longer the benefactor
of Germany who fell at Lutzen: the beneficent part of his career,
Gustavus Adolphus had already terminated; and now the greatest service
which he could render to the liberties of Germany was -- to die. The
all-engrossing power of an individual was at an end, but many came
forward to essay their strength; the equivocal assistance of an
over-powerful protector, gave place to a more noble self-exertion on the
part of the Estates; and those who were formerly the mere instruments of
his aggrandizement, now began to work for themselves. They now looked
to their own exertions for the emancipation, which could not be received
without danger from the hand of the mighty; and the Swedish power, now
incapable of sinking into the oppressor, was henceforth restricted to
the more modest part of an ally.
The ambition of the Swedish monarch aspired unquestionably to establish
a power within Germany, and to attain a firm footing in the centre of
the empire, which was inconsistent with the liberties of the Estates.
His aim was the imperial crown; and this dignity, supported by his
power, and maintained by his energy and activity, would in his hands
be liable to more abuse than had ever been feared from the House of
Austria. Born in a foreign country, educated in the maxims of arbitrary
power, and by principles and enthusiasm a determined enemy to Popery, he
was ill qualified to maintain inviolate the constitution of the German
States, or to respect their liberties. The coercive homage which
Augsburg, with many other cities, was forced to pay to the Swedish
crown, bespoke the conqueror, rather than the protector of the empire;
and this town, prouder of the title of a royal city, than of the
higher dignity of the freedom of the empire, flattered itself with
the anticipation of becoming the capital of his future kingdom. His
ill-disguised attempts upon the Electorate of Mentz, which he first
intended to bestow upon the Elector of Brandenburg, as the dower of
his daughter Christina, and afterwards destined for his chancellor and
friend Oxenstiern, evinced plainly what liberties he was disposed to
take with the constitution of the empire. His allies, the Protestant
princes, had claims on his gratitude, which could be satisfied only at
the expense of their Roman Catholic neighbours, and particularly of
the immediate Ecclesiastical Chapters; and it seems probable a plan was
early formed for dividing the conquered provinces, (after the precedent
of the barbarian hordes who overran the German empire,) as a common
spoil, among the German and Swedish confederates. In his treatment of
the Elector Palatine, he entirely belied the magnanimity of the hero,
and forgot the sacred character of a protector. The Palatinate was in
his hands, and the obligations both of justice and honour demanded its
full and immediate restoration to the legitimate sovereign. But, by a
subtlety unworthy of a great mind, and disgraceful to the honourable
title of protector of the oppressed, he eluded that obligation. He
treated the Palatinate as a conquest wrested from the enemy, and thought
that this circumstance gave him a right to deal with it as he pleased.
He surrendered it to the Elector as a favour, not as a debt; and that,
too, as a Swedish fief, fettered by conditions which diminished half
its value, and degraded this unfortunate prince into a humble vassal
of Sweden. One of these conditions obliged the Elector, after the
conclusion of the war, to furnish, along with the other princes, his
contribution towards the maintenance of the Swedish army, a condition
which plainly indicates the fate which, in the event of the ultimate
success of the king, awaited Germany. His sudden disappearance secured
the liberties of Germany, and saved his reputation, while it probably
spared him the mortification of seeing his own allies in arms
against him, and all the fruits of his victories torn from him by a
disadvantageous peace. Saxony was already disposed to abandon him,
Denmark viewed his success with alarm and jealousy; and even France, the
firmest and most potent of his allies, terrified at the rapid growth of
his power and the imperious tone which he assumed, looked around at the
very moment he past the Lech, for foreign alliances, in order to check
the progress of the Goths, and restore to Europe the balance of power.