CHAPTER VI.

THE BATTLE OF NÖRDLINGEN.

Until now the Swedish lion, through the wisdom and valour of Gustaf Adolf, and of the leaders and men trained under him, had hastened from victory to victory, and overthrown all his opponents. At last a day of misfortune dawned; in a great battle the Swedish arms suffered a terrible defeat.

The brilliant Wallenstein had died the death of a traitor at Eger; now Gallas, the destroyer, overran central Germany, captured Regensburg, and advanced against the free city of Nördlingen, in Schwaben; Duke Bernhard and Gustaf Horn hurried with the Swedish army to its rescue. They had, however, but 17,000 men, whilst Gallas had 33,000.

"We will attack," said the duke.

"Let us wait," said Horn.

They expected 5,000 men as a reinforcement, and fourteen days passed. Then Nördlingen came to sore straits, and began to light beacon fires on the walls at night. Again the duke wished to attack; again Horn preferred to entrench and assist the city without battle. Then they called this brave soul a cowardly man; and, indignant, but with dark presentiments, he resolved to fight. Repeated victories had made the Swedes over-confident, and they entered the conflict assured of success beforehand.

The battle took place on the 26th of August, 1634. Outside Nördlingen is a height called Arensberg, and between it and the town a smaller one. Upon the last the Imperialists had raised three redoubts.

The Swedish army stood on Arensberg, Horn on the right and the duke on the left wing. The battle-cry was the same as at Breitenfeld and Lützen: God with us!

Early in the morning a heavy rain fell. Once more the wise Horn wished to wait, but the duke, who held the supreme command, ordered an advance. Horn obeyed, and the right wing marched down the valley between the two heights. The impatience of the cavalry hastened the conflict, which resulted unfavourably even in the very beginning. The cannon of the Imperialists in the redoubts made great gaps in the lines of the cavalry, and the enemy's superiority made them hesitate. Horn sent two brigades to storm the middle redoubt. They captured it and pursued the enemy. Piccolomini checked their course and drove them back to the redoubt. There the powder happened to take fire. With a terrific explosion the earthwork flew into the air, and several hundreds of Swedes and Finns with it. This was the first calamity.

Upon this position, however, depended the victory. For a few moments the spot stood empty; Piccolomini's soldiers, alarmed by the report and destruction, could not be induced to advance and occupy it. At last they did so. Horn asked for help in order to expel them. The duke sent the young Bohemian, Thurn, with the yellow regiment. He made a mistake, attacked the wrong redoubt, and engaged with a greatly superior force. Seventeen times he charged the enemy, and as often was he repulsed. In vain did Horn try to storm the height. Thurn's error was the second calamity.

On the left wing the duke had begun the conflict against the artillery and cavalry. At the first encounter the Imperialists were hurled back, and the duke's German cavalry broke their ranks and pursued the enemy. But Tilly's spirit seemed to-day to give the Imperialists courage. They advanced their ordered and superior troops against the assailants, checked them, and drove them back with loss. The duke tried to get reinforcements into Nördlingen, but failed. In vain did he drive Gallas before him. New masses of the enemy constantly opposed him, and in his rear the Croats plundered his baggage-wagons.

It was about noon. Horn's troops had been under fire for eight consecutive hours, and were worn out with fatigue. With every hour their hopes of victory grew less and less, but their unflinching, indomitable courage remained the same. They had observed the disorder in the left wing. They themselves were in a desperate plight down in the valley, where Piccolomini's bullets fell every moment into the underbush, and sprinkled the fallen branches with blood. Then Horn proposed to withdraw to Arensberg, and the duke at last consented. He considered the matter, however, for nearly two hours; but these two hours he would afterwards have been glad to purchase with half a lifetime.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Horn made the Finnish cavalry make a feigned attack, so as to cover the retreat, and began like a prudent general to withdraw in good order. The Imperialists perceiving his intention, pressed on with double force. They began to hope, what they had not dared to entertain before, that even the Swedes might be conquered, and Piccolomini's stumpy figure flew through the ranks, urging his men to bear down with their collected forces upon the Swedes' exposed flanks, and totally crush them.

In the valley behind the Swedes and between the two heights flowed a stream with high banks, and swollen by the abundant rains. At the little village of Hirnheim, the stream was spanned by a single bridge, and this point Horn had carefully guarded in order to secure the retreat. The artillery passed first over the bridge, and were safe on Arensberg. The first lines of Horn's wing had also reached the village, and the rest were only a short distance from it, when a new calamity occurred, the third and the worst on this most disastrous day. Duke Bernhard had undertaken to detain the enemy with his left wing until Horn and his men had crossed the stream. But he soon discovered that he had consulted valour rather than prudence. The enemy concentrated their forces, and increased their terrible attacks. Three times De Werth charged the duke's cavalry; three times was he repulsed. The fourth time, however, he broke through the duke's lines. In vain the latter sent a squadron to take him in flank. Mad with rage, the duke snatched his gold-embroidered banner from an ensign's hand, and followed by his bravest men, rushed into the midst of the enemy. It was all useless. His best men were slain, his horse shot under him, and the banner wrenched from his hand; wounded and overpowered he was nearly taken prisoner, when a young officer at his side lent him his horse, and he escaped with great difficulty. His infantry had already been routed, being unable to support the attacks of the cavalry on the open plain; and when the wounded leader galloped away, his whole wing followed in the utmost disorder, convinced that all was lost.

At that moment, Horn's infantry crossed the narrow bridge. Then confused and loud cries arose, that the battle was lost, and the enemy close upon them. First single horsemen, then whole troops of the duke's cavalry rushed along the road to the bridge, and rode amongst the infantry, trampling some under their horses' hoofs, and throwing the rest into fearful confusion. The efforts of Horn and his nearest officers to stay the frantic rout were fruitless. On the narrow bridge everything was mixed pell-mell--men, horses, wagons, dead, and wounded; and finally the duke's whole wing rushed to this fatal spot. Like a storm Piccolomini pressed upon the rear of the fugitives; he sent some light guns up on the heights, where they played with terrible effect on the retreating mass; every ball cut long lanes through it. Then the Croats fell upon the rout, and as friend and foe became mixed together, the artillery fire had to cease. The long lances and swords of the Imperial cavalry made great slaughter. All the Swedes and Finns seemed doomed to destruction.

Gustaf Horn, the wise and courageous Finnish general, whom Gustaf Adolf called "his right hand," was now the last to retain self-possession and courage at this terrible crisis. With the remains of three regiments he had taken up a position by the bridge, and the fugitives fled past him without drawing his force into the current. They implored him to save himself; but his stubborn, Finnish will refused to listen to these appeals, and he stayed where he was. For a time the pursuit was checked, the only thing that Horn hoped to gain by his intrepid resistance. Gallas sent one of his best Spanish brigades to oust him. Horn drove them back with loss. The victorious De Werth fell upon him with his dragoons. The result was the same. The enemy now concentrated their forces, and Horn was attacked on three sides at once. They offered him his life if he would surrender. He replied with a sword-thrust, and his men gave the same response. Not one would ask for quarter. At last, when nearly all those near him had fallen, he was overwhelmed by numbers and taken prisoner. Then the few surviving heroes surrendered.

When the Swedish army in full flight rushed over Arensberg, Duke Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar tore his hair, and exclaimed that he was a fool, and Horn a wise man. Later on the duke consoled himself with Elsas, but that day he had reason to repent of his rashness. Six thousand Swedes, Finns, and Germans covered the blood-stained heights of Nordlingen; 6,000 were taken prisoners, and amongst them the two Finns, Horn and Wittenberg, who were well treated by the enemy. Of the other 10,000, half were wounded, and most of the remaining mercenaries deserted. The army had lost 4,000 baggage-wagons, 300 banners, and all their artillery. A miserable remnant made its way to Mentz, plundering and pillaging as it fled, and suffering from extreme want.

More disastrous to Sweden than the loss of these 12,000 men was the damage to its prestige, and the enemy's regained belief in victory. The battle of Nordlingen became the turning point in the Thirty Years' War, and excited both joy and consternation. throughout Europe, until Baner's genius and victories restored their lost lustre to the Swedish arms once more.

Amongst those who fought at Horn's side to the last, was our old friend, Captain Larsson. The sturdy little captain had on this occasion no time to open his talkative mouth; he perspired profusely from the heat, and had fought since dawn; yet he had not received the least scratch upon his fleshy person. Let it be said in his praise, that at Nordlingen he thought of neither Rhine wine or Bavarian nuns, but honestly plied his weapons as well as possible. Nevertheless, we will not assert that he then cut down thirty Imperialists with his trusty sword, as he afterwards declared in good faith.

He was taken prisoner with Horn; but it was not his capture that most provoked the captain, but the terrible vexation he experienced on seeing the Croats afterwards empty at their leisure the Swedish stock of wine which they had captured with the baggage-wagons.

Another of our friends, Lieutenant Bertel, fought at the duke's side all day, and was the one who offered him his horse. We shall see, by-and-by, that the duke did not forget this service. Bertel, like Larsson, was hotly engaged in the battle, but, less fortunate than the latter, received several wounds, and was finally borne along in the stream of fugitives to Arensberg. Almost without knowing how, he found himself the next day far from the battlefield, and proceeded with the remnant of the duke's army to Mentz.