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The History of the Thirty Years' War by Friedrich Schiller, Translated by Rev. A. J. W. Morrison, M.A.

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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.

Book IV.

The weak bond of union, by which Gustavus Adolphus contrived to hold together
the Protestant members of the empire, was dissolved by his death:
the allies were now again at liberty, and their alliance, to last,
must be formed anew. By the former event, if unremedied, they would lose
all the advantages they had gained at the cost of so much bloodshed,
and expose themselves to the inevitable danger of becoming one after the other
the prey of an enemy, whom, by their union alone, they had been able to oppose
and to master. Neither Sweden, nor any of the states of the empire,
was singly a match with the Emperor and the League; and, by seeking a peace
under the present state of things, they would necessarily be obliged
to receive laws from the enemy. Union was, therefore, equally indispensable,
either for concluding a peace or continuing the war. But a peace,
sought under the present circumstances, could not fail to be disadvantageous
to the allied powers. With the death of Gustavus Adolphus,
the enemy had formed new hopes; and however gloomy might be
the situation of his affairs after the battle of Lutzen,
still the death of his dreaded rival was an event too disastrous
to the allies, and too favourable for the Emperor, not to justify him
in entertaining the most brilliant expectations, and not to encourage him
to the prosecution of the war. Its inevitable consequence,
for the moment at least, must be want of union among the allies,
and what might not the Emperor and the League gain from such a division
of their enemies? He was not likely to sacrifice such prospects,
as the present turn of affairs held out to him, for any peace,
not highly beneficial to himself; and such a peace
the allies would not be disposed to accept. They naturally determined,
therefore, to continue the war, and for this purpose, the maintenance
of the existing union was acknowledged to be indispensable.

But how was this union to be renewed? and whence were to be derived
the necessary means for continuing the war? It was not the power of Sweden,
but the talents and personal influence of its late king,
which had given him so overwhelming an influence in Germany,
so great a command over the minds of men; and even he had innumerable
difficulties to overcome, before he could establish among the states
even a weak and wavering alliance. With his death vanished all,
which his personal qualities alone had rendered practicable;
and the mutual obligation of the states seemed to cease with the hopes
on which it had been founded. Several impatiently threw off the yoke
which had always been irksome; others hastened to seize the helm
which they had unwillingly seen in the hands of Gustavus, but which,
during his lifetime, they did not dare to dispute with him.
Some were tempted, by the seductive promises of the Emperor,
to abandon the alliance; others, oppressed by the heavy burdens
of a fourteen years' war, longed for the repose of peace,
upon any conditions, however ruinous. The generals of the army,
partly German princes, acknowledged no common head,
and no one would stoop to receive orders from another.
Unanimity vanished alike from the cabinet and the field,
and their common weal was threatened with ruin, by the spirit of disunion.

Gustavus had left no male heir to the crown of Sweden:
his daughter Christina, then six years old, was the natural heir.
The unavoidable weakness of a regency, suited ill with that
energy and resolution, which Sweden would be called upon to display
in this trying conjuncture. The wide reaching mind of Gustavus Adolphus
had raised this unimportant, and hitherto unknown kingdom,
to a rank among the powers of Europe, which it could not retain
without the fortune and genius of its author, and from which
it could not recede, without a humiliating confession of weakness.
Though the German war had been conducted chiefly on the resources of Germany,
yet even the small contribution of men and money, which Sweden furnished,
had sufficed to exhaust the finances of that poor kingdom,
and the peasantry groaned beneath the imposts necessarily laid upon them.
The plunder gained in Germany enriched only a few individuals,
among the nobles and the soldiers, while Sweden itself
remained poor as before. For a time, it is true, the national glory
reconciled the subject to these burdens, and the sums exacted,
seemed but as a loan placed at interest, in the fortunate hand
of Gustavus Adolphus, to be richly repaid by the grateful monarch
at the conclusion of a glorious peace. But with the king's death
this hope vanished, and the deluded people now loudly demanded relief
from their burdens.

But the spirit of Gustavus Adolphus still lived in the men to whom
he had confided the administration of the kingdom. However dreadful to them,
and unexpected, was the intelligence of his death, it did not deprive them
of their manly courage; and the spirit of ancient Rome,
under the invasion of Brennus and Hannibal, animated this noble assembly.
The greater the price, at which these hard-gained advantages
had been purchased, the less readily could they reconcile themselves
to renounce them: not unrevenged was a king to be sacrificed.
Called on to choose between a doubtful and exhausting war,
and a profitable but disgraceful peace, the Swedish council of state
boldly espoused the side of danger and honour; and with agreeable surprise,
men beheld this venerable senate acting with all the energy and enthusiasm
of youth. Surrounded with watchful enemies, both within and without,
and threatened on every side with danger, they armed themselves
against them all, with equal prudence and heroism, and laboured
to extend their kingdom, even at the moment when they had to struggle
for its existence.

The decease of the king, and the minority of his daughter Christina,
renewed the claims of Poland to the Swedish throne; and King Ladislaus,
the son of Sigismund, spared no intrigues to gain a party in Sweden.
On this ground, the regency lost no time in proclaiming the young queen,
and arranging the administration of the regency. All the officers
of the kingdom were summoned to do homage to their new princess;
all correspondence with Poland prohibited, and the edicts of previous monarchs
against the heirs of Sigismund, confirmed by a solemn act of the nation.
The alliance with the Czar of Muscovy was carefully renewed, in order,
by the arms of this prince, to keep the hostile Poles in check.
The death of Gustavus Adolphus had put an end to the jealousy of Denmark,
and removed the grounds of alarm which had stood in the way
of a good understanding between the two states. The representations by which
the enemy sought to stir up Christian IV. against Sweden were no longer
listened to; and the strong wish the Danish monarch entertained
for the marriage of his son Ulrick with the young princess, combined,
with the dictates of a sounder policy, to incline him to a neutrality.
At the same time, England, Holland, and France came forward with
the gratifying assurances to the regency of continued friendship and support,
and encouraged them, with one voice, to prosecute with activity the war,
which hitherto had been conducted with so much glory.
Whatever reason France might have to congratulate itself
on the death of the Swedish conqueror, it was as fully sensible
of the expediency of maintaining the alliance with Sweden.
Without exposing itself to great danger, it could not allow
the power of Sweden to sink in Germany. Want of resources of its own,
would either drive Sweden to conclude a hasty and disadvantageous peace
with Austria, and then all the past efforts to lower the ascendancy
of this dangerous power would be thrown away; or necessity and despair
would drive the armies to extort from the Roman Catholic states
the means of support, and France would then be regarded as the betrayer
of those very states, who had placed themselves under her powerful protection.
The death of Gustavus, far from breaking up the alliance
between France and Sweden, had only rendered it more necessary for both,
and more profitable for France. Now, for the first time,
since he was dead who had stretched his protecting arm over Germany,
and guarded its frontiers against the encroaching designs of France,
could the latter safely pursue its designs upon Alsace, and thus be enabled
to sell its aid to the German Protestants at a dearer rate.

Strengthened by these alliances, secured in its interior,
and defended from without by strong frontier garrisons and fleets,
the regency did not delay an instant to continue a war, by which Sweden
had little of its own to lose, while, if success attended its arms,
one or more of the German provinces might be won, either as a conquest,
or indemnification of its expenses. Secure amidst its seas, Sweden,
even if driven out of Germany, would scarcely be exposed to greater peril,
than if it voluntarily retired from the contest, while the former measure
was as honourable, as the latter was disgraceful. The more boldness
the regency displayed, the more confidence would they inspire
among their confederates, the more respect among their enemies,
and the more favourable conditions might they anticipate in the event
of peace. If they found themselves too weak to execute the wide-ranging
projects of Gustavus, they at least owed it to this lofty model
to do their utmost, and to yield to no difficulty short of absolute necessity.
Alas, that motives of self-interest had too great a share
in this noble determination, to demand our unqualified admiration!
For those who had nothing themselves to suffer from the calamities of war,
but were rather to be enriched by it, it was an easy matter
to resolve upon its continuation; for the German empire was, in the end,
to defray the expenses; and the provinces on which they reckoned,
would be cheaply purchased with the few troops they sacrificed to them,
and with the generals who were placed at the head of armies,
composed for the most part of Germans, and with the honourable superintendence
of all the operations, both military and political.

But this superintendence was irreconcileable with the distance
of the Swedish regency from the scene of action, and with the slowness
which necessarily accompanies all the movements of a council.

To one comprehensive mind must be intrusted the management
of Swedish interests in Germany, and with full powers
to determine at discretion all questions of war and peace,
the necessary alliances, or the acquisitions made. With dictatorial power,
and with the whole influence of the crown which he was to represent,
must this important magistrate be invested, in order to maintain its dignity,
to enforce united and combined operations, to give effect to his orders,
and to supply the place of the monarch whom he succeeded.
Such a man was found in the Chancellor Oxenstiern, the first minister,
and what is more, the friend of the deceased king, who, acquainted with
all the secrets of his master, versed in the politics of Germany,
and in the relations of all the states of Europe, was unquestionably
the fittest instrument to carry out the plans of Gustavus Adolphus
in their full extent.

Oxenstiern was on his way to Upper Germany, in order to assemble
the four Upper Circles, when the news of the king's death reached him
at Hanau. This was a heavy blow, both to the friend and the statesman.
Sweden, indeed, had lost but a king, Germany a protector;
but Oxenstiern, the author of his fortunes, the friend of his soul,
and the object of his admiration. Though the greatest sufferer
in the general loss, he was the first who by his energy rose from the blow,
and the only one qualified to repair it. His penetrating glance foresaw
all the obstacles which would oppose the execution of his plans,
the discouragement of the estates, the intrigues of hostile courts,
the breaking up of the confederacy, the jealousy of the leaders,
and the dislike of princes of the empire to submit to foreign authority.
But even this deep insight into the existing state of things,
which revealed the whole extent of the evil, showed him also
the means by which it might be overcome. It was essential
to revive the drooping courage of the weaker states,
to meet the secret machinations of the enemy, to allay the jealousy
of the more powerful allies, to rouse the friendly powers,
and France in particular, to active assistance; but above all,
to repair the ruined edifice of the German alliance, and to reunite
the scattered strength of the party by a close and permanent bond of union.
The dismay which the loss of their leader occasioned the German Protestants,
might as readily dispose them to a closer alliance with Sweden,
as to a hasty peace with the Emperor; and it depended entirely upon
the course pursued, which of these alternatives they would adopt.
Every thing might be lost by the slightest sign of despondency;
nothing, but the confidence which Sweden showed in herself,
could kindle among the Germans a noble feeling of self-confidence.
All the attempts of Austria, to detach these princes
from the Swedish alliance, would be unavailing, the moment their eyes
became opened to their true interests, and they were instigated
to a public and formal breach with the Emperor.

Before these measures could be taken, and the necessary points settled between
the regency and their minister, a precious opportunity of action would,
it is true, be lost to the Swedish army, of which the enemy would be sure
to take the utmost advantage. It was, in short, in the power of the Emperor
totally to ruin the Swedish interest in Germany, and to this
he was actually invited by the prudent councils of the Duke of Friedland.
Wallenstein advised him to proclaim a universal amnesty,
and to meet the Protestant states with favourable conditions.
In the first consternation produced by the fall of Gustavus Adolphus,
such a declaration would have had the most powerful effects,
and probably would have brought the wavering states back to their allegiance.
But blinded by this unexpected turn of fortune, and infatuated
by Spanish counsels, he anticipated a more brilliant issue from war,
and, instead of listening to these propositions of an accommodation,
he hastened to augment his forces. Spain, enriched by the grant
of the tenth of the ecclesiastical possessions, which the pope confirmed,
sent him considerable supplies, negociated for him at the Saxon court,
and hastily levied troops for him in Italy to be employed in Germany.
The Elector of Bavaria also considerably increased his military force;
and the restless disposition of the Duke of Lorraine did not permit him
to remain inactive in this favourable change of fortune.
But while the enemy were thus busy to profit by the disaster of Sweden,
Oxenstiern was diligent to avert its most fatal consequences.

Less apprehensive of open enemies, than of the jealousy
of the friendly powers, he left Upper Germany, which he had secured
by conquests and alliances, and set out in person to prevent
a total defection of the Lower German states, or, what would have been
almost equally ruinous to Sweden, a private alliance among themselves.
Offended at the boldness with which the chancellor assumed
the direction of affairs, and inwardly exasperated at the thought
of being dictated to by a Swedish nobleman, the Elector of Saxony
again meditated a dangerous separation from Sweden; and the only question
in his mind was, whether he should make full terms with the Emperor,
or place himself at the head of the Protestants and form a third party
in Germany. Similar ideas were cherished by Duke Ulric of Brunswick, who,
indeed, showed them openly enough by forbidding the Swedes from recruiting
within his dominions, and inviting the Lower Saxon states to Luneburg,
for the purpose of forming a confederacy among themselves.
The Elector of Brandenburg, jealous of the influence which Saxony was likely
to attain in Lower Germany, alone manifested any zeal for the interests
of the Swedish throne, which, in thought, he already destined for his son.
At the court of Saxony, Oxenstiern was no doubt honourably received;
but, notwithstanding the personal efforts of the Elector of Brandenburg,
empty promises of continued friendship were all which he could obtain.
With the Duke of Brunswick he was more successful, for with him he ventured
to assume a bolder tone. Sweden was at the time in possession of
the See of Magdeburg, the bishop of which had the power of assembling
the Lower Saxon circle. The chancellor now asserted the rights of the crown,
and by this spirited proceeding, put a stop for the present
to this dangerous assembly designed by the duke. The main object,
however, of his present journey and of his future endeavours,
a general confederacy of the Protestants, miscarried entirely,
and he was obliged to content himself with some unsteady alliances
in the Saxon circles, and with the weaker assistance of Upper Germany.

As the Bavarians were too powerful on the Danube, the assembly of
the four Upper Circles, which should have been held at Ulm, was removed
to Heilbronn, where deputies of more than twelve cities of the empire,
with a brilliant crowd of doctors, counts, and princes, attended.
The ambassadors of foreign powers likewise, France, England, and Holland,
attended this Congress, at which Oxenstiern appeared in person,
with all the splendour of the crown whose representative he was.
He himself opened the proceedings, and conducted the deliberations.
After receiving from all the assembled estates assurances of
unshaken fidelity, perseverance, and unity, he required of them
solemnly and formally to declare the Emperor and the league as enemies.
But desirable as it was for Sweden to exasperate the ill-feeling
between the emperor and the estates into a formal rupture, the latter,
on the other hand, were equally indisposed to shut out the possibility
of reconciliation, by so decided a step, and to place themselves
entirely in the hands of the Swedes. They maintained,
that any formal declaration of war was useless and superfluous,
where the act would speak for itself, and their firmness on this point
silenced at last the chancellor. Warmer disputes arose
on the third and principal article of the treaty, concerning the means
of prosecuting the war, and the quota which the several states
ought to furnish for the support of the army. Oxenstiern's maxim,
to throw as much as possible of the common burden on the states,
did not suit very well with their determination to give as little as possible.
The Swedish chancellor now experienced, what had been felt by thirty emperors
before him, to their cost, that of all difficult undertakings,
the most difficult was to extort money from the Germans. Instead of granting
the necessary sums for the new armies to be raised, they eloquently dwelt upon
the calamities occasioned by the former, and demanded relief
from the old burdens, when they were required to submit to new.
The irritation which the chancellor's demand for money
raised among the states, gave rise to a thousand complaints;
and the outrages committed by the troops, in their marches and quarters,
were dwelt upon with a startling minuteness and truth.

In the service of two absolute monarchs, Oxenstiern had but little opportunity
to become accustomed to the formalities and cautious proceedings
of republican deliberations, or to bear opposition with patience.
Ready to act, the instant the necessity of action was apparent,
and inflexible in his resolution, when he had once taken it,
he was at a loss to comprehend the inconsistency of most men,
who, while they desire the end, are yet averse to the means.
Prompt and impetuous by nature, he was so on this occasion from principle;
for every thing depended on concealing the weakness of Sweden,
under a firm and confident speech, and by assuming the tone of a lawgiver,
really to become so. It was nothing wonderful, therefore, if,
amidst these interminable discussions with German doctors and deputies,
he was entirely out of his sphere, and if the deliberateness which
distinguishes the character of the Germans in their public deliberations,
had driven him almost to despair. Without respecting a custom,
to which even the most powerful of the emperors had been obliged to conform,
he rejected all written deliberations which suited so well
with the national slowness of resolve. He could not conceive how ten days
could be spent in debating a measure, which with himself was decided
upon its bare suggestion. Harshly, however, as he treated the States,
he found them ready enough to assent to his fourth motion,
which concerned himself. When he pointed out the necessity of giving
a head and a director to the new confederation, that honour
was unanimously assigned to Sweden, and he himself was humbly requested
to give to the common cause the benefit of his enlightened experience,
and to take upon himself the burden of the supreme command.
But in order to prevent his abusing the great powers thus conferred upon him,
it was proposed, not without French influence, to appoint
a number of overseers, in fact, under the name of assistants,
to control the expenditure of the common treasure, and to consult with him
as to the levies, marches, and quarterings of the troops.
Oxenstiern long and strenuously resisted this limitation of his authority,
which could not fail to trammel him in the execution of every enterprise
requiring promptitude or secrecy, and at last succeeded, with difficulty,
in obtaining so far a modification of it, that his management
in affairs of war was to be uncontrolled. The chancellor finally approached
the delicate point of the indemnification which Sweden was to expect
at the conclusion of the war, from the gratitude of the allies,
and flattered himself with the hope that Pomerania, the main object of Sweden,
would be assigned to her, and that he would obtain from the provinces,
assurances of effectual cooperation in its acquisition. But he could obtain
nothing more than a vague assurance, that in a general peace
the interests of all parties would be attended to. That on this point,
the caution of the estates was not owing to any regard for the constitution
of the empire, became manifest from the liberality they evinced
towards the chancellor, at the expense of the most sacred laws of the empire.
They were ready to grant him the archbishopric of Mentz,
(which he already held as a conquest,) and only with difficulty
did the French ambassador succeed in preventing a step,
which was as impolitic as it was disgraceful. Though on the whole,
the result of the congress had fallen far short of Oxenstiern's expectations,
he had at least gained for himself and his crown his main object, namely,
the direction of the whole confederacy; he had also succeeded in strengthening
the bond of union between the four upper circles, and obtained from the states
a yearly contribution of two millions and a half of dollars,
for the maintenance of the army.

These concessions on the part of the States, demanded some return from Sweden.
A few weeks after the death of Gustavus Adolphus, sorrow ended the days
of the unfortunate Elector Palatine. For eight months he had swelled
the pomp of his protector's court, and expended on it the small remainder
of his patrimony. He was, at last, approaching the goal of his wishes,
and the prospect of a brighter future was opening, when death deprived him
of his protector. But what he regarded as the greatest calamity,
was highly favourable to his heirs. Gustavus might venture to delay
the restoration of his dominions, or to load the gift with hard conditions;
but Oxenstiern, to whom the friendship of England, Holland, and Brandenburg,
and the good opinion of the Reformed States were indispensable,
felt the necessity of immediately fulfilling the obligations of justice.
At this assembly, at Heilbronn, therefore, he engaged to surrender
to Frederick's heirs the whole Palatinate, both the part already conquered,
and that which remained to be conquered, with the exception of Manheim,
which the Swedes were to hold, until they should be indemnified
for their expenses. The Chancellor did not confine his liberality
to the family of the Palatine alone; the other allied princes received proofs,
though at a later period, of the gratitude of Sweden, which, however,
she dispensed at little cost to herself.

Impartiality, the most sacred obligation of the historian, here compels us
to an admission, not much to the honour of the champions of German liberty.
However the Protestant Princes might boast of the justice of their cause,
and the sincerity of their conviction, still the motives from which they acted
were selfish enough; and the desire of stripping others of their possessions,
had at least as great a share in the commencement of hostilities,
as the fear of being deprived of their own. Gustavus soon found
that he might reckon much more on these selfish motives,
than on their patriotic zeal, and did not fail to avail himself of them.
Each of his confederates received from him the promise of some possession,
either already wrested, or to be afterwards taken from the enemy;
and death alone prevented him from fulfilling these engagements.
What prudence had suggested to the king, necessity now prescribed
to his successor. If it was his object to continue the war,
he must be ready to divide the spoil among the allies, and promise them
advantages from the confusion which it was his object to continue.
Thus he promised to the Landgrave of Hesse, the abbacies of Paderborn, Corvey,
Munster, and Fulda; to Duke Bernard of Weimar, the Franconian Bishoprics;
to the Duke of Wirtemberg, the Ecclesiastical domains,
and the Austrian counties lying within his territories,
all under the title of fiefs of Sweden. This spectacle,
so strange and so dishonourable to the German character,
surprised the Chancellor, who found it difficult to repress his contempt,
and on one occasion exclaimed, "Let it be writ in our records,
for an everlasting memorial, that a German prince made such a request
of a Swedish nobleman, and that the Swedish nobleman granted it to the German
upon German ground!"

After these successful measures, he was in a condition to take the field,
and prosecute the war with fresh vigour. Soon after the victory at Lutzen,
the troops of Saxony and Lunenburg united with the Swedish main body;
and the Imperialists were, in a short time, totally driven from Saxony.
The united army again divided: the Saxons marched towards
Lusatia and Silesia, to act in conjunction with Count Thurn
against the Austrians in that quarter; a part of the Swedish army
was led by the Duke of Weimar into Franconia, and the other by George,
Duke of Brunswick, into Westphalia and Lower Saxony.

The conquests on the Lech and the Danube, during Gustavus's expedition
into Saxony, had been maintained by the Palatine of Birkenfeld,
and the Swedish General Banner, against the Bavarians;
but unable to hold their ground against the victorious progress of the latter,
supported as they were by the bravery and military experience
of the Imperial General Altringer, they were under the necessity
of summoning the Swedish General Horn to their assistance, from Alsace.
This experienced general having captured the towns of Benfeld,
Schlettstadt, Colmar, and Hagenau, committed the defence of them
to the Rhinegrave Otto Louis, and hastily crossed the Rhine
to form a junction with Banner's army. But although the combined force
amounted to more than 16,000, they could not prevent the enemy
from obtaining a strong position on the Swabian frontier, taking Kempten,
and being joined by seven regiments from Bohemia. In order to retain
the command of the important banks of the Lech and the Danube,
they were under the necessity of recalling the Rhinegrave Otto Louis
from Alsace, where he had, after the departure of Horn,
found it difficult to defend himself against the exasperated peasantry.
With his army, he was now summoned to strengthen the army on the Danube;
and as even this reinforcement was insufficient, Duke Bernard of Weimar
was earnestly pressed to turn his arms into this quarter.

Duke Bernard, soon after the opening of the campaign of 1633,
had made himself master of the town and territory of Bamberg,
and was now threatening Wurtzburg. But on receiving the summons
of General Horn, without delay he began his march towards the Danube,
defeated on his way a Bavarian army under John de Werth, and joined the Swedes
near Donauwerth. This numerous force, commanded by excellent generals,
now threatened Bavaria with a fearful inroad. The bishopric of Eichstadt
was completely overrun, and Ingoldstadt was on the point of being delivered up
by treachery to the Swedes. Altringer, fettered in his movements
by the express order of the Duke of Friedland, and left without assistance
from Bohemia, was unable to check the progress of the enemy.
The most favourable circumstances combined to further the progress
of the Swedish arms in this quarter, when the operations of the army
were at once stopped by a mutiny among the officers.

All the previous successes in Germany were owing altogether to arms;
the greatness of Gustavus himself was the work of the army,
the fruit of their discipline, their bravery, and their persevering courage
under numberless dangers and privations. However wisely his plans were laid
in the cabinet, it was to the army ultimately that he was indebted
for their execution; and the expanding designs of the general
did but continually impose new burdens on the soldiers.
All the decisive advantages of the war, had been violently gained
by a barbarous sacrifice of the soldiers' lives in winter campaigns,
forced marches, stormings, and pitched battles; for it was Gustavus's maxim
never to decline a battle, so long as it cost him nothing but men.
The soldiers could not long be kept ignorant of their own importance,
and they justly demanded a share in the spoil which had been won
by their own blood. Yet, frequently, they hardly received their pay;
and the rapacity of individual generals, or the wants of the state,
generally swallowed up the greater part of the sums raised by contributions,
or levied upon the conquered provinces. For all the privations he endured,
the soldier had no other recompense than the doubtful chance
either of plunder or promotion, in both of which he was often disappointed.
During the lifetime of Gustavus Adolphus, the combined influence
of fear and hope had suppressed any open complaint, but after his death,
the murmurs were loud and universal; and the soldiery seized
the most dangerous moment to impress their superiors with a sense
of their importance. Two officers, Pfuhl and Mitschefal,
notorious as restless characters, even during the King's life,
set the example in the camp on the Danube, which in a few days was imitated
by almost all the officers of the army. They solemnly bound themselves
to obey no orders, till these arrears, now outstanding for months,
and even years, should be paid up, and a gratuity, either in money or lands,
made to each man, according to his services. "Immense sums," they said,
"were daily raised by contributions, and all dissipated by a few.
They were called out to serve amidst frost and snow, and no reward
requited their incessant labours. The soldiers' excesses at Heilbronn
had been blamed, but no one ever talked of their services.
The world rung with the tidings of conquests and victories,
but it was by their hands that they had been fought and won."

The number of the malcontents daily increased; and they even attempted
by letters, (which were fortunately intercepted,) to seduce the armies
on the Rhine and in Saxony. Neither the representations of Bernard of Weimar,
nor the stern reproaches of his harsher associate in command,
could suppress this mutiny, while the vehemence of Horn seemed only
to increase the insolence of the insurgents. The conditions they insisted on,
were that certain towns should be assigned to each regiment
for the payment of arrears. Four weeks were allowed to the Swedish Chancellor
to comply with these demands; and in case of refusal, they announced
that they would pay themselves, and never more draw a sword for Sweden.

These pressing demands, made at the very time when the military chest
was exhausted, and credit at a low ebb, greatly embarrassed the chancellor.
The remedy, he saw, must be found quickly, before the contagion should spread
to the other troops, and he should be deserted by all his armies at once.
Among all the Swedish generals, there was only one of sufficient authority
and influence with the soldiers to put an end to this dispute.
The Duke of Weimar was the favourite of the army, and his prudent moderation
had won the good-will of the soldiers, while his military experience
had excited their admiration. He now undertook the task
of appeasing the discontented troops; but, aware of his importance,
he embraced the opportunity to make advantageous stipulations for himself,
and to make the embarrassment of the chancellor subservient to his own views.

Gustavus Adolphus had flattered him with the promise of the Duchy
of Franconia, to be formed out of the Bishoprics of Wurtzburg and Bamberg,
and he now insisted on the performance of this pledge.
He at the same time demanded the chief command, as generalissimo of Sweden.
The abuse which the Duke of Weimar thus made of his influence,
so irritated Oxenstiern, that, in the first moment of his displeasure,
he gave him his dismissal from the Swedish service. But he soon
thought better of it, and determined, instead of sacrificing
so important a leader, to attach him to the Swedish interests at any cost.
He therefore granted to him the Franconian bishoprics,
as a fief of the Swedish crown, reserving, however, the two fortresses
of Wurtzburg and Koenigshofen, which were to be garrisoned by the Swedes;
and also engaged, in name of the Swedish crown, to secure these territories
to the duke. His demand of the supreme authority was evaded
on some specious pretext. The duke did not delay to display his gratitude
for this valuable grant, and by his influence and activity
soon restored tranquillity to the army. Large sums of money,
and still more extensive estates, were divided among the officers,
amounting in value to about five millions of dollars,
and to which they had no other right but that of conquest. In the mean time,
however, the opportunity for a great undertaking had been lost,
and the united generals divided their forces to oppose the enemy
in other quarters.

Gustavus Horn, after a short inroad into the Upper Palatinate,
and the capture of Neumark, directed his march towards the Swabian frontier,
where the Imperialists, strongly reinforced, threatened Wuertemberg.
At his approach, the enemy retired to the Lake of Constance, but only
to show the Swedes the road into a district hitherto unvisited by war.
A post on the entrance to Switzerland, would be highly serviceable
to the Swedes, and the town of Kostnitz seemed peculiarly well fitted
to be a point of communication between him and the confederated cantons.
Accordingly, Gustavus Horn immediately commenced the siege of it;
but destitute of artillery, for which he was obliged to send to Wirtemberg,
he could not press the attack with sufficient vigour, to prevent the enemy
from throwing supplies into the town, which the lake afforded them
convenient opportunity of doing. He, therefore, after an ineffectual attempt,
quitted the place and its neighbourhood, and hastened to meet
a more threatening danger upon the Danube.

At the Emperor's instigation, the Cardinal Infante, the brother of
Philip IV. of Spain, and the Viceroy of Milan, had raised an army
of 14,000 men, intended to act upon the Rhine, independently of Wallenstein,
and to protect Alsace. This force now appeared in Bavaria,
under the command of the Duke of Feria, a Spaniard; and, that they might be
directly employed against the Swedes, Altringer was ordered to join them
with his corps. Upon the first intelligence of their approach,
Horn had summoned to his assistance the Palsgrave of Birkenfeld,
from the Rhine; and being joined by him at Stockach, boldly advanced
to meet the enemy's army of 30,000 men.

The latter had taken the route across the Danube into Swabia,
where Gustavus Horn came so close upon them, that the two armies
were only separated from each other by half a German mile.
But, instead of accepting the offer of battle, the Imperialists moved
by the Forest towns towards Briesgau and Alsace, where they arrived in time
to relieve Breysack, and to arrest the victorious progress of the Rhinegrave,
Otto Louis. The latter had, shortly before, taken the Forest towns,
and, supported by the Palatine of Birkenfeld, who had liberated
the Lower Palatinate and beaten the Duke of Lorraine out of the field,
had once more given the superiority to the Swedish arms in that quarter.
He was now forced to retire before the superior numbers of the enemy;
but Horn and Birkenfeld quickly advanced to his support,
and the Imperialists, after a brief triumph, were again expelled from Alsace.
The severity of the autumn, in which this hapless retreat had to be conducted,
proved fatal to most of the Italians; and their leader, the Duke of Feria,
died of grief at the failure of his enterprise.

In the mean time, Duke Bernard of Weimar had taken up his position
on the Danube, with eighteen regiments of infantry and 140 squadrons of horse,
to cover Franconia, and to watch the movements of the Imperial-Bavarian army
upon that river. No sooner had Altringer departed, to join
the Italians under Feria, than Bernard, profiting by his absence,
hastened across the Danube, and with the rapidity of lightning
appeared before Ratisbon. The possession of this town
would ensure the success of the Swedish designs upon Bavaria and Austria;
it would establish them firmly on the Danube, and provide a safe refuge
in case of defeat, while it alone could give permanence to their conquests
in that quarter. To defend Ratisbon, was the urgent advice
which the dying Tilly left to the Elector; and Gustavus Adolphus
had lamented it as an irreparable loss, that the Bavarians had anticipated him
in taking possession of this place. Indescribable, therefore,
was the consternation of Maximilian, when Duke Bernard suddenly appeared
before the town, and prepared in earnest to besiege it.

The garrison consisted of not more than fifteen companies,
mostly newly-raised soldiers; although that number was more than sufficient
to weary out an enemy of far superior force, if supported
by well-disposed and warlike inhabitants. But this was not
the greatest danger which the Bavarian garrison had to contend against.

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