CHAPTER VIII.

THE VICTORIES OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.

SECTION I.--_Alliance between the Swedes and the Saxons._

[Sidenote: 1631.

§ 1. The camp of Werben.]

A great fear fell upon the minds of all Protestant men. The cities of the south, Augsburg and Nüremberg, which had begun to protest against the execution of the edict, fell back into silence. In the north, Gustavus, using terror to counteract terror, planted his cannon before the walls of Berlin, and wrung from his reluctant brother-in-law the renunciation of his neutrality. But such friendship could last no longer than the force which imposed it, and John George could not be won so easily. William of Hesse Cassel was the first of the German princes to come voluntarily into the camp of Gustavus. Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar came too, young as he was, full of military experience, and full too of memories of his forefathers, the heroes of that old Saxon line which had forfeited the Saxon Electorate for the sake of the Gospel. But neither William nor Bernhard could bring much more than their own swords. Gustavus dared not take the offensive. Throwing up an entrenched camp at Werben, where the Havel joins the Elbe, he waited for Tilly, and repulsed an attack made upon him. But what was such a victory worth? Hardships and disease were thinning his ranks, and unless aid came, the end would be very near.

[Sidenote: § 2. Tilly reinforced.]

The aid which he needed was brought to him by the blindness of Ferdinand. At last the results of the treaty of Cherasco were making themselves felt. The troops from Italy had reached the north, and, in August, Tilly was at the head of 40,000 men. With the reinforcements came orders from the Emperor. The tame deflection of John George from the line of strict obedience was no longer to be borne. Tilly must compel him to lay down his arms, or to join in the war against the foreign invasion.

[Sidenote: § 3. Summons John George to disarm.]

These orders reached Tilly on August 18. On the 24th he sent a message to the Elector, asking him by what right he was in arms against the laws of the Empire. John George had some difficulty in finding an answer, but he refused to dismiss his troops.

[Sidenote: § 4. Attacks Saxony.]

If Tilly had only let the Elector alone, he would probably have had nothing to fear from him for some time to come. But Tilly knew no policy beyond the letter of his instructions. He at once crossed the Saxon frontier. Pappenheim seized Merseburg. Tilly reduced Leipzig to surrender by the threat that he would deal with the city worse than with Magdeburg. The Elector, so long unwilling to draw the sword, was beyond measure angry. He sent speedy couriers to Gustavus, offering his alliance on any terms.

[Sidenote: § 5. Union of the Swedes and the Saxons.]

Gustavus did not wait for a second bidding. The wish of his heart was at last accomplished. He put his forces at once in motion, bringing the Elector of Brandenburg with him. The Saxon commander was the Lutheran Arnim, the very man who had led Wallenstein's troops to the siege of Stralsund. The Edict of Restitution had taught him that Wallenstein's idea of a Germany united without respect for differences of religion was not to be realized under Ferdinand. He had thrown up his post, and had sought service with John George. Without being in any way a man of commanding ability, he had much experience in war.

[Sidenote: § 6. The Saxon troops.]

The Saxon soldiers were a splendid sight. New clothed and new armed, they had with them all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. But they had had no experience of fighting. They were as raw as Wallenstein's troops had been when he first entered the diocese of Halberstadt in 1625.

[Sidenote: § 7. The Swedish troops.]

The Swedes were a rabble rout to look upon, at least in the eyes of the inexperienced Saxons. Their new allies laughed heartily at their uniforms, ragged with long service and soiled with the dust of the camp and the bivouac. But the war-worn men had confidence in their general, and their general had confidence in them.

[Sidenote: § 8. Gustavus as a commander.]

Such confidence was based on even better grounds than the confidence of the veterans of the League in Tilly. Tilly was simply an excellent commander of the old Spanish school. He had won his battles by his power of waiting till he was superior in numbers. When the battles came they were what are generally called soldiers' battles. The close-packed columns won their way to victory by sheer push of pike. But Gustavus, like all great commanders, was an innovator in the art of war. To the heavy masses of the enemy he opposed lightness and flexibility. His cannon were more easily moved, his muskets more easily handled. In rapidity of fire he was as superior to the enemy as Frederick the Great with his iron ramrods at Mollwitz, or Moltke with his needle-guns at Sadowa. He had, too, a new method of drill. His troops were drawn up three deep, and were capable of manoeuvering with a precision which might be looked for in vain from the solid columns of the imperialists.

SECTION II.--_The Battle of Breitenfeld._

[Sidenote: § 1. Battle of Breitenfeld.]

On the morning of September 17 Swede and Saxon were drawn up opposite Tilly's army, close to the village of Breitenfeld, some five miles distant from Leipzig. Gustavus had need of all his skill. Before long the mocking Saxons were flying in headlong rout. The victors, unlike Rupert at Marston Moor, checked themselves to take the Swedes in the flanks. Then Gustavus coolly drew back two brigades and presented a second front to the enemy. Outnumbered though he was, the result was never for a moment doubtful. Cannon shot and musket ball tore asunder the dense ranks of the imperialist army. Tilly's own guns were wrenched from him and turned upon his infantry. The unwieldy host staggered before the deft blows of a more active antagonist. Leaving six thousand of their number dying or dead upon the field, Tilly's veterans, gathering round their aged leader, retreated slowly from their first defeat, extorting the admiration of their opponents by their steadiness and intrepidity.

[Sidenote: § 2. Political importance of the victory.]

The victory of Breitenfeld, or Leipzig--the battle bears both names--was no common victory. It was the grave of the Edict of Restitution, and of an effort to establish a sectarian domination in the guise of national unity. The bow, stretched beyond endurance, had broken at last. Since the battle on the White Hill, the Emperor, the Imperial Council, the Imperial Diet, had declared themselves the only accredited organs of the national life. Then had come a coolness between the Emperor and the leaders of the Diet. A good understanding had been re-established by the dismissal of Wallenstein. But neither Emperor nor Diet had seen fit to take account of the feelings or wants of more than half the nation. They, and they alone, represented legal authority. The falsehood had now been dashed to the ground by Gustavus. Breitenfeld was the Naseby of Germany.

[Sidenote: § 3. Victory of intelligence over routine.]

Like Naseby, too, Breitenfeld had in it something of more universal import. Naseby was the victory of disciplined intelligence over disorderly bravery. Breitenfeld was the victory of disciplined intelligence over the stiff routine of the Spanish tactics. Those tactics were, after all, but the military expression of the religious and political system in defence of which they were used. Those solid columns just defeated were the types of what human nature was to become under the Jesuit organization. The individual was swallowed up in the mass. As Tilly had borne down by the sheer weight of his veterans adventurers like Mansfeld and Christian of Brunswick, so the renewed Catholic discipline had borne down the wrangling theologians who had stepped into the places of Luther and Melanchthon. But now an army had arisen to prove that order and obedience were weak unless they were supported by individual intelligence. The success of the principle upon which its operations were based could not be confined to mere fighting. It would make its way in morals and politics, in literature and science.

[Sidenote: § 4. Wallenstein's intrigues with Gustavus.]

Great was the joy in Protestant Germany when the news was told. The cities of the south prepared once more to resist their oppressors. All that was noblest in France hailed the tidings with acclamation. English Eliot, writing from his prison in the Tower, could speak of Gustavus as that person whom fortune and virtue had reserved for the wonder of the world! Even Wallenstein, from his Bohemian retreat, uttered a cry of satisfaction. For Wallenstein was already in communication with Gustavus, who, Protestant as he was, was avenging him upon the League which had assailed him and the Emperor who had abandoned him. He had offered to do great things, if he could be trusted with a Swedish force of 12,000 men. He was well pleased to hear of Tilly's defeat. "If such a thing had happened to me," he said to an emissary of Gustavus, "I would kill myself. But it is a good thing for us." If only the King of Sweden would trust him with men, he would soon bring together the officers of his old army. He would divide the goods of the Jesuits and their followers amongst the soldiers. The greatest folly the Bohemians had committed, he said, had been to throw Martinitz and Slawata out of window instead of thrusting a sword through their bodies. If his plan were accepted he would chase the Emperor and the House of Austria over the Alps. But he hoped Gustavus would not allow himself to be entangled too far in the French alliances.

[Sidenote: § 5. His designs.]

Wallenstein's whole character was expressed in these proposals, whether they were meant seriously or not. Cut off from German ideas by his Bohemian birth, he had no roots in Germany. The reverence which others felt for religious or political institutions had no echo in his mind. As he had been ready to overthrow princes and electors in the Emperor's name, so he was now ready to overthrow the Emperor in the name of the King of Sweden. Yet there was withal a greatness about him which raised him above such mere adventurers as Mansfeld. At the head of soldiers as uprooted as himself from all ties of home or nationality, he alone, amongst the leaders of the war, had embraced the two ideas which, if they had been welcomed by the statesmen of the Empire, would have saved Germany from intolerable evil. He wished for union and strength against foreign invasion, and he wished to found that union upon religious liberty. He would have kept out Gustavus if he could. But if that could not be done, he would join Gustavus in keeping out the French.

[Sidenote: § 6. Impossibility of an understanding between Wallenstein and Gustavus.]

Yet between Wallenstein and Gustavus it was impossible that there should be anything really in common. Wallenstein was large-minded because he was far removed from the ordinary prejudices of men. He was no more affected by their habits and thoughts than the course of a balloon is affected by the precipices and rivers below. Gustavus trod firmly upon his mother earth. His Swedish country, his Lutheran religion, his opposition to the House of Austria, were all very real to him. His greatness was the greatness which rules the world, the greatness of a man who, sharing the thoughts and feelings of men, rises above them just far enough to direct them, not too far to carry their sympathies with him.

[Sidenote: § 7. Political plans of Gustavus.]

Such a man was not likely to be content with mere military success. The vision of a soldier sovereignty to be shared with Wallenstein had no charms for him. If the Empire had fallen, it must be replaced not by an army but by fresh institutions; and those institutions, if they were to endure at all, must be based as far as possible on institutions already existing. Protestant Germany must be freed from oppression. It must be organized apart sufficiently for its own defence. Such an organization, the _Corpus Evangelicorum_, as he called it, like the North German Confederation of 1866, might or might not spread into a greater Germany of the future. It would need the support of Sweden and of France. It would not, indeed, satisfy Wallenstein's military ambition, or the more legitimate national longings of German patriots. But it had the advantage of being attainable if anything was attainable. It would form a certain bulwark against the aggression of the Catholic states without necessitating any violent change in the existing territorial institutions.

[Sidenote: § 8. His military schemes.]

If these were the views of Gustavus--and though he never formally announced them to the world his whole subsequent conduct gives reason to believe that he had already entertained them--it becomes not so very hard to understand why he decided upon marching upon the Rhine, and despatching the Elector of Saxony to rouse Bohemia. It is true that Oxenstjerna, the prudent Chancellor of Sweden, wise after the event, used to declare that his master had made a mistake, and later military historians, fancying that Vienna was in the days of Gustavus what it was in the days of Napoleon, have held that a march upon Ferdinand's capital would have been as decisive as a march upon the same capital in 1805 or 1809. But the opinion of Gustavus is at least as good as that of Oxenstjerna, and it is certain that in 1631 Vienna was not, in the modern sense of the word, a capital city. If we are to seek for a parallel at all, it was rather like Madrid in the Peninsular War. The King had resided at Madrid. The Emperor had resided at Vienna. But neither Madrid in 1808 nor Vienna in 1631 formed the centre of force. No administrative threads controlling the military system stretched out from either. In the nineteenth century Napoleon or Wellington might be in possession of Madrid and have no real hold of Spain. In the seventeenth century, Ferdinand and Gustavus might be in possession of Vienna and have no real hold on Austria or Bohemia. Where an army was, there was power; and there would be an army wherever Wallenstein, or some imitator of Wallenstein, might choose to beat his drums. If Gustavus had penetrated to Vienna, there was nothing to prevent a fresh army springing up in his rear.

[Sidenote: § 9. Necessity of finding a basis for his operations.]

The real danger to be coped with was the military system which Wallenstein had carried to perfection. And, in turning to the Rhine, Gustavus showed his resolution not to imitate Wallenstein's example. His army was to be anchored firmly to the enthusiasm of the Protestant populations. There lay the Palatinate, to be freed from the oppressor. There lay the commercial cities Augsburg, Nüremberg, Ulm, and Strassburg, ready to welcome enthusiastically the liberator who had set his foot upon the Edict of Restitution; and if in Bohemia too there were Protestants to set free, they were not Protestants on whom much dependence could be placed. If past experience was to be trusted, the chances of organizing resistance would be greater amongst Germans on the Rhine than amongst Slavonians on the Moldau.

[Sidenote: § 10. He resolves to march to the south-west.]

For purposes of offence, too, there was much to induce Gustavus to prefer the westward march. Thither Tilly had retreated with only the semblance of an army still in the field. There, too, were the long string of ecclesiastical territories, the Priest's Lane, as men called it, Würzburg, Bamberg, Fulda, Cologne, Treves, Mentz, Worms, Spires, the richest district in Germany, which had furnished men and money to the armies of the League, and which were now to furnish at least money to Gustavus. There Spain, with its garrisons on the left bank of the Rhine, was to be driven back, and France to be conciliated, whilst the foundations were laid of a policy which would provide for order in Protestant Germany, so as to enable Gustavus to fulfil in a new and better spirit the work left undone by Christian of Anhalt. Was it strange if the Swedish king thought that such work as this would be better in his own hands than in those of John George of Saxony?

SECTION III.--_March of Gustavus into South Germany._

[Sidenote: § 1. March of Gustavus upon the Rhine.]

The march of the victorious army was a triumphal progress. On October 2, Gustavus was at Erfurt. On the 10th he entered Würzburg: eight days later, the castle on its height beyond the Main was stormed after a fierce defence. Through all the north the priests were expelled from the districts which had been assigned them by the Edict of Restitution. Gustavus was bent upon carrying on reprisals upon them in their own homes. On December 16, Oppenheim was stormed and its Spanish garrison put to the sword. The Priest's Lane was defenceless. Gustavus kept his Christmas at Mentz. His men, fresh from the rough fare and hard quarters of the north, revelled in the luxuries of the southern land, and drank deep draughts of Rhenish wine from their helmets.

[Sidenote: § 2. Gustavus at Mentz.]

There is always a difficulty in conjecturing the intentions of Gustavus. He did not, like Ferdinand, form plans which were never to be changed. He did not, like Wallenstein, form plans which he was ready to give up at a moment's notice for others entirely different. The essence of his policy was doubtless the formation, under his own leadership, of the _Corpus Evangelicorum_. What was to be done with the ecclesiastical territories which broke up the territorial continuity of South German Protestantism he had, perhaps, not definitely decided. But everything points to the conclusion that he wished to deal with them as Wallenstein would have dealt with them, to parcel them out amongst his officers and amongst the German princes who had followed his banner. In doing so, he would have given every security to the Catholic population. Gustavus, at least in Germany, meddled with no man's religion. In Sweden it was otherwise. There, according to the popular saying, there was one king, one religion, and one physician.

[Sidenote: § 3. The French startled at his victories.]

He placed the conquered territories in sure hands. Mentz itself was committed to the Chancellor Oxenstjerna. French ambassadors remonstrated with him roundly. Richelieu had hoped that, if the House of Austria were humbled, the German ecclesiastics would have been left to enjoy their dignities. The sudden uprising of a new power in Europe had taken the French politicians as completely by surprise as the Prussian victories took their successors by surprise in 1866. "It is high time," said Lewis, "to place a limit to the progress of this Goth." Gustavus, unable to refuse the French demands directly, laid down conditions of peace with the League which made negotiation hopeless. But the doubtful attitude of France made it all the more necessary that he should place himself in even a stronger position than he was in already.

[Sidenote: § 4. Campaign in South Germany.]

On March 31 he entered Nüremberg. As he rode through the streets he was greeted with heartfelt acclamations. Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of bearded men as they welcomed the deliverer from the north, whose ready jest and beaming smile would have gone straight to the popular heart even if his deserts had been less. The picture of Gustavus was soon in every house, and a learned citizen set to work at once to compose a pedigree by which he proved to his own satisfaction that the Swedish king was descended from the old hereditary Burggraves of the town. In all that dreary war, Gustavus was the one man who had reached the heart of the nation, who had shown a capacity for giving them that for which they looked to their Emperor and their princes, their clergy and their soldiers, in vain.

[Sidenote: § 5. Gustavus at Donauwörth.]

Gustavus did not tarry long with his enthusiastic hosts. On April 5 he was before Donauwörth. After a stout resistance the imperialists were driven out. Once more a Protestant Easter was kept within the walls, and the ancient wrong was redressed.

[Sidenote: § 6. The passage of the Lech and the death of Tilly.]

On the 14th the Swedes found the passage of the Lech guarded by Tilly. Every advantage appeared to be on the side of the defenders. But Gustavus knew how to sweep their positions with a terrible fire of artillery, and to cross the river in the very teeth of the enemy. In the course of the battle Tilly was struck down, wounded by a cannon shot above the knee. His friends mournfully carried him away to Ingolstadt to die. His life's work was at an end. If simplicity of character and readiness to sacrifice his own personal interests be a title to esteem, that esteem is but Tilly's due. To the higher capacity of a statesman he laid no claim. Nor has he any place amongst the masters of the art of war. He was an excellent officer, knowing no other rule than the orders of constituted authorities, no virtue higher than obedience. The order which he reverenced was an impossible one, and there was nothing left him but to die for it.

[Sidenote: § 7. Gustavus at Augsburg and Munich.]

The conqueror pushed on. In Augsburg he found a city which had suffered much from the Commissions of Resumption which had, in the south, preceded the Edict of Restitution. The Lutheran clergy had been driven from their pulpits; the Lutheran councillors had been expelled from the town hall. In the midst of the jubilant throng Gustavus felt himself more strongly seated in the saddle. Hitherto he had asked the magistrates of the recovered cities to swear fidelity to him as long as the war lasted. At Augsburg he demanded the oath of obedience as from subjects to a sovereign. Gustavus was beginning to fancy that he could do without France.

Then came the turn of Bavaria. As Gustavus rode into Munich, Frederick, the exiled Elector Palatine, was by his side, triumphing over the flight of his old enemy. It was not the fault of Gustavus if Frederick was not again ruling at Heidelberg. Gustavus had offered him his ancestral territories on the condition that he would allow Swedish garrisons to occupy his fortresses during the war, and would give equal liberty to the Lutheran and the Calvinist forms of worship. Against this latter demand Frederick's narrow-hearted Calvinism steeled itself, and when, not many months later, he was carried off by a fever at Bacharach, he was still, through his own fault, a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth.

[Sidenote: § 8. Gustavus at Munich.]

At Munich Gustavus demanded a high contribution. Discovering that Maximilian had buried a large number of guns in the arsenal, he had them dug up again by the Bavarian peasants, who were glad enough to earn the money with which the foreign invader paid them for their labours. When this process was over--waking up the dead, he merrily called it--he prepared to leave the city with his booty. During his stay he had kept good discipline, and took especial care to prohibit any insult to the religion of the inhabitants. If, as may well have been the case, he was looking beyond the _Corpus Evangelicorum_ to the Empire itself, if he thought it possible that the golden crown of Ferdinand might rest next upon a Lutheran head, he was resolved that religious liberty, not narrow orthodoxy, should be the corner-stone on which that Empire should be built.

[Sidenote: § 9. Strong position of Gustavus.]

All Germany, except the hereditary dominions of the House of Austria, was at his feet. And he knew well that, as far as those dominions were concerned, there was no strength to resist him. Ferdinand had done enough to repress the manifestation of feeling, nothing to organize it. He would have been even more helpless to resist a serious attack than he had been in 1619, and this time Bavaria was as helpless as himself. Even John George, who had fled hastily from the field of Breitenfeld, marched through Bohemia without finding the slightest resistance. His army entered Prague amidst almost universal enthusiasm.

SECTION IV.--_Wallenstein's Restoration to Command._

[Sidenote: § 1. Ferdinand looks about for help.]

Unless Ferdinand could find help elsewhere than in his own subjects he was lost. Abroad he could look to Spain. But Spain could not do very much under the eyes of Richelieu. Some amount of money it could send, and some advice. But that was all.

[Sidenote: 1631.

§ 2. The Spaniards recommend the recall of Wallenstein.]

What that advice would be could hardly be doubted. The dismissal of Wallenstein had been a check for Spain. He had been willing to join Spain in a war with France. The electors had prevailed against him with French support, and the treaty of Cherasco, by which the German troops had been withdrawn from fighting in support of the Spanish domination in Italy, had been the result. Even before the battle of Breitenfeld had been fought, the Spanish government had recommended the reinstatement of Wallenstein, and the Spaniards found a support in Eggenberg, Wallenstein's old protector at court.

[Sidenote: § 3. Wallenstein as the rival of Gustavus.]

Soon after the battle of Breitenfeld, Wallenstein broke off his intercourse with Gustavus. By that time it was evident that in any alliance which Gustavus might make he meant to occupy the first place himself. Even if this had been otherwise, the moral character and the political instincts of the two men were too diverse to make co-operation possible between them. Gustavus was a king as well as a soldier, and he hoped to base his military power upon the political reconstruction of Protestant Germany, perhaps even of the whole Empire. Wallenstein owed everything to the sword, and he wished to bring all Germany under the empire of the sword.

[Sidenote: § 4. His plan of a reconciliation with John George.]

The arrival of the Saxons in Bohemia inspired Wallenstein with the hope of a new combination, which would place the destinies of Germany in his hands. The reluctance with which John George had abandoned the Emperor was well known. If only Ferdinand, taught by experience, could be induced to sacrifice the Edict of Restitution, might not the Saxons be won over from their new allies? Wallenstein's former plans would be realized, and united Germany, nominally under Ferdinand, in reality under his general, would rise to expel the foreigner and to bar the door against the Frenchman and the Swede.

[Sidenote: § 5. He is reinstated in the command.]

In November, 1631, Wallenstein met his old lieutenant, Arnim, now the Saxon commander, to discuss the chances of the future. In December, just as Gustavus was approaching the Rhine, he received a visit from Eggenberg, at Znaim. Eggenberg had come expressly to persuade him to accept the command once more. Wallenstein gave his consent, on condition that the ecclesiastical lands should be left as they were before the Edict of Restitution. And besides this he was to wield an authority such as no general had ever claimed before. No army could be introduced into the Empire excepting under his command. To him alone was to belong the right of confiscation and of pardon. As Gustavus was proposing to deal with the ecclesiastical territories, so would Wallenstein deal with the princes who refused to renounce their alliance with the Swede. A new class of princes would arise, owing their existence to him alone. As for his own claims, if Mecklenburg could not be recovered, a princely territory was to be found for him elsewhere.

[Sidenote: § 6. Wallenstein's army.]

After all it was not upon written documents that Wallenstein's power was founded. The army which he gathered round him was no Austrian army in any real sense of the word. It was the army of Wallenstein--of the Duke of Friedland, as the soldiers loved to call him, thinking perhaps that his duchy of Mecklenburg would prove but a transitory possession. Its first expenses were met with the help of Spanish subsidies. But after that it had to depend on itself. Nor was it more than an accident that it was levied and equipped in Bohemia. If Gustavus had been at Vienna instead of at Munich, the thousands of stalwart men who trooped in at Wallenstein's bare word would have gathered to any place where he had set up his standards. Gustavus had to face the old evil of the war, which had grown worse and worse from the days of Mansfeld to those of Wallenstein, the evil of a military force existing by itself and for itself. From far distant shores men practised in arms came eagerly to the summons; from sunny Italy, from hardy Scotland, from every German land between the Baltic and the Alps. Protestant and Catholic were alike welcome there. The great German poet has breathed the spirit of this heterogeneous force into one of its officers, himself a wanderer from distant Ireland, ever prodigal of her blood in the quarrels of others. "This vast and mighty host," he says (Schiller, _The Piccolomini_, act i. sc. 2),

is all obedient To Friedland's captains; and its brave commanders. Bred in one school, and nurtured with one milk, Are all excited by one heart and soul. They are strangers on the soil they tread. The service is their only house and home. No zeal inspires them for their country's cause, For thousands like myself, were born abroad; Nor care they for the Emperor, for one half, Deserting other service, fled to ours, Indifferent what their banner, whether 'twere The Double Eagle, Lily, or the Lion;[A] Yet one sole man can rein this fiery host, By equal rule, by equal love and fear, Blending the many-nationed whole in one.

Was it, forsooth, the Emperor's majesty That gave the army ready to his hand, And only sought a leader for it? No! The army then had no existence. He, Friedland, it was who called it into being, And gave it to his sovereign--but receiving No army at his hand;--nor did the Emperor Give Wallenstein to us as General. No, It was from Wallenstein we first received The Emperor as our master and our sovereign; And he, he only, binds us to our banner.

[A] That is to say, the standard of the Emperor, of France, or of Sweden.

[Sidenote: 1632

§ 7. He receives full powers.]

Wallenstein at first accepted the command for three months only. In April it was permanently conferred on him. The Emperor was practically set aside in favour of a dictator.

[Sidenote: § 8. The Saxons driven out of Bohemia.]

Wallenstein turned first upon the Saxons. In one hand he held the olive branch, in the other the sword. On May 21st his emissary was offering peace on the terms of the retractation of the Edict of Restitution. On the 22d Wallenstein himself fell upon the Saxon garrison of Prague, and forced it to surrender. It was a plain hint to John George to make his mind up quickly. Before long the Saxons had been driven out of the whole of Bohemia.

[Sidenote: § 9. But John George will not treat alone.]

John George loved peace dearly, and he had joined Sweden sorely against his will. But he was a man of his word, and he had promised Gustavus not to come to terms with the enemy without his consent. He forwarded Wallenstein's propositions to Gustavus.

[Sidenote: § 10. Demands of Gustavus.]

No man was so ready as Gustavus to change his plans in all matters of secondary importance, as circumstances might require. In the face of Wallenstein's armament and of the hesitations of the Saxon court, he at once abandoned all thought of asking that the Rhine bishoprics should remain in his hands. He was ready to assent to the solution of religious questions which satisfied Wallenstein and John George. For himself, he expected the cession of at least part of Pomerania, in order to protect himself from a future naval attack proceeding from the Baltic ports. The Elector of Brandenburg had claims upon Pomerania; but he might be satisfied with some of the bishoprics which it had been agreed to leave in Protestant hands.

[Sidenote: § 11. Impossibility of reconciling Gustavus and Wallenstein.]

Such terms would probably have met with opposition. But the real point of difference lay elsewhere. Wallenstein would have restored the old unity of the Empire, of which he hoped to be the inspiring genius. Gustavus pressed for the formation of a separate Protestant league, if not under his own guidance, at least in close alliance with Sweden. Wallenstein asked for confidence in himself and the Emperor. Gustavus had no confidence in either.

[Sidenote: § 12. Hesitation of John George.]

John George wavered between the two. He, too, distrusted Wallenstein. But he did not see that he must either accept the Empire, or help on its dissolution, unless he wished to leave the future of Germany to chance. The imperial unity of Wallenstein was something. The _Corpus Evangelicorum_ of Gustavus was something. The Protestant states, loosely combined, were doomed to defeat and ruin.

SECTION V.--_The Struggle between Gustavus and Wallenstein._

[Sidenote: § 1. Gustavus proposes a league of cities.]

Long before John George's answer could reach Gustavus the war had blazed out afresh. The Swedish king did not yet know how little reliance he could place on the Elector for the realization of his grand plan, when Wallenstein broke up from Bohemia, and directed his whole force upon Nüremberg. Gustavus threw himself into the town to defend it. Here, too, his head was busy with the _Corpus Evangelicorum_. Whilst he was offering to Saxony to abandon the ecclesiastical territories, he proposed to the citizens of Nüremberg to lay the foundations of a league in which the citizens alone should ally themselves with him, leaving the princes to come in afterwards if they would, whilst the ecclesiastical territories should remain in his own hands. There is nothing really discrepant in the two schemes. The one was a plan to be adopted only on condition of a final and permanent peace. The other was a plan for use as a weapon of war. The noticeable thing is the persistent way in which Gustavus returned again and again to the idea of founding a political union as the basis of military strength.

[Sidenote: § 2. His proposal unacceptable.]

He was no more successful with the citizens of Nüremberg than with the Elector of Saxony. They replied that a matter of such importance should be treated in common by all the cities and princes interested. "In that case," he replied, bitterly, "the Elector of Saxony will dispute for half a year in whose name the summons to the meeting ought to be issued. When the cities, too, send deputies, they usually separate as they meet, discovering that there is a defect in their instructions, and so refer everything home again for further consideration, without coming to any conclusion whatever." Can it be doubted that the political incompetence of the Germans, caused by their internal divisions and their long disuse of such institutions as would have enabled them to act in common, was a thorn in the side of Gustavus, felt by him more deeply than the appearance in the field, however unexpected, of Wallenstein and his army?

[Sidenote: § 3. Gustavus and Wallenstein at Nüremberg.]

That army, however, must be met. Wallenstein had 60,000 men with him; Gustavus but a third of the number. The war had blazed up along the Rhine from Alsace to Coblentz. Pappenheim was fighting there, and the Spaniards had sent troops of their own, and had summoned the Duke of Lorraine to their aid. By-and-by it was seen how rightly Gustavus had judged that France could not afford to quarrel with him. Though he had dashed aside Richelieu's favourite scheme of leaving the ecclesiastical territories untouched, and had refused to single out the House of Austria as the sole object of the war, Richelieu could not fail to support him against Spanish troops. In a few weeks the danger in his rear was at an end, and the scattered detachments of the Swedish army were hurrying to join their king at Nüremberg.

[Sidenote: § 4. Wallenstein entrenches himself.]

Gustavus was now ready for a battle. But a battle he could not have. Wallenstein fell back upon his old tactics of refusing battle, except when he had a manifest superiority of numbers. He entrenched himself near Fürth, to the north of Nüremberg, on a commanding eminence overlooking the whole plain around. For twelve miles his works protected his newly-levied army. House, villages, advantages of the ground were everywhere utilized for defence.

[Sidenote: § 5. Wants of the Swedish army.]

In the meanwhile, scarcity and pestilence were doing their terrible work at Nüremberg. The country people had flocked in for refuge, and the population was too great to be easily supplied with food. Even in the army want began to be felt. And with want came the relaxation of that discipline upon which Gustavus prided himself. He had large numbers of German troops in his army now, and a long evil experience had taught Germans the habits of marauders.

[Sidenote: § 6. Gustavus remonstrates.]

Gustavus was deeply irritated. Sending for the chief Germans in his service, he rated them soundly. "His Majesty," says one who described the scene, "was never before seen in such a rage."

[Sidenote: § 7. His speech to the officers.]

"You princes, counts, lords, and noblemen," he said, "you are showing your disloyalty and wickedness on your own fatherland, which you are ruining. You colonels, and officers from the highest to the lowest, it is you who steal and rob every one, without making any exceptions. You plunder your own brothers in the faith. You make me disgusted with you; and God my Creator be my witness that my heart is filled with gall when I see any one of you behaving so villanously. For you cause men to say openly, 'The king, our friend, does us more harm than our enemies.' If you were real Christians you would consider what I am doing for you, how I am spending my life in your service. I have given up the treasures of my crown for your sake, and have not had from your German Empire enough to buy myself a bad suit of clothes with."

[Sidenote: § 8. Complains bitterly of them.]

After this strain he went on: "Enter into your hearts," he said, "and think how sad you are making me, so that the tears stand in my eyes. You treat me ill with your evil discipline; I do not say with your evil fighting, for in that you have behaved like honourable gentlemen, and for that I am much obliged to you. I am so grieved for you that I am vexed that I ever had anything to do with so stiff-necked a nation. Well, then, take my warning to heart; we will soon show our enemies that we are honest men and honourable gentlemen."

[Sidenote: § 9. Punishes plunderers.]

One day the king caught a corporal stealing cows. "My son," he said, as he delivered him over to the provost marshal, "it is better that I should punish you, than that God should punish not only you, but me and all of us for your sake."

[Sidenote: § 10. Fails to storm Wallenstein's lines.]

Such a state of things could not last long. On September 3 Gustavus led his army to the shores of Wallenstein's entrenchments; but though he made some impression, the lines were too skilfully drawn, and too well defended, to be broken through. On the other hand, Gustavus was not a Mansfeld, and Wallenstein did not venture, as at the Bridge of Dessau, to follow up his successful defence by an offensive movement.

[Sidenote: § 11. Is obliged to march away.]

Want of supplies made it impossible for Gustavus to remain longer at Nüremberg. For the first time since he landed in Germany he had failed in securing a victory. With drums beating and banners flying, he marched away past Wallenstein's encampment; but the wary man was not to be enticed to a combat. As soon as he was gone, Wallenstein broke up his camp. But he knew too well where his opponent's weakness lay to go in pursuit of Gustavus. Throwing himself northwards, he established himself firmly in Saxony, plundering and burning on every side. If only he could work ruin enough, he might hope to detach the Elector from his alliance with the Swedes.

[Sidenote: § 12. Wallenstein and Gustavus in Saxony.]

Gustavus could not choose but follow. Wallenstein had hoped to establish himself as firmly in Saxony as he had established himself at Fürth. He would seize Torgau and Halle, to make himself master of the passages over the Elbe and Saale, whilst Erfurt and Naumburg would complete the strength of his position. Gustavus might dash his head against it as he pleased. Like Wellington at Torres Vedras, or Gustavus himself at Werben, he would meet the attack of the enemy by establishing himself in a carefully selected position of defence.

SECTION VI.--_The Battle of Lützen._

[Sidenote: § 1. Gustavus in Saxony.]

Wallenstein had succeeded at Nüremberg, but he was not to succeed in Saxony. Gustavus was upon him before he had gained the positions he needed. Erfurt was saved from the imperialists. Gustavus entered Naumburg to be adored as a saviour by men flying from Wallenstein's barbarities. As he passed through the streets the poor fugitives bent down to kiss the hem of his garments. He would have resisted them if he could. He feared lest God should punish him for receiving honour above that which befitted a mortal man.

[Sidenote: § 2. Wallenstein believes himself safe.]

The Saxon army was at Torgau, and that important post was still guarded. Wallenstein lay at Lützen. Even there, shorn as he was of his expected strength, he threw up entrenchments, and believed himself safe from attack. It was now November, and he fancied that Gustavus, satisfied with his success, would go, after the fashion of the time, into winter quarters.

[Sidenote: § 3. Pappenheim leaves him.]

In Wallenstein's army, Pappenheim's dashing bravery made him the idol of the soldiers, and gave him an almost independent position. He begged to be allowed to attempt a diversion on the Rhenish bishoprics. Wallenstein gave the required permission, ordering him to seize Halle on the way.

[Sidenote: § 4. Attack of the Swedes. Gustavus before the battle.]

It was a serious blunder to divide an army under the eyes of Gustavus. Early on the morning of November 16 the Swedish king was in front of Wallenstein's position at Lützen. He knew well that, if there was to be a battle at all, he must be the assailant. Wallenstein would not stir. Behind ditches and entrenchments, ready armed, his heavy squares lay immovably, waiting for the enemy, like the Russians at the Alma or the English at Waterloo. A fog lay thick upon the ground. The Swedish army gathered early to their morning prayer, summoned by the sounds of Luther's hymn tune, "God is a strong tower," floating on the heavy air from the brazen lips of a trumpet. The king himself joined in the morning hymn, "Fear not, little flock." Then, as if with forebodings of the coming slaughter, others sung of "Jesus the Saviour, who was the conqueror of death." Gustavus thrust aside the armour which was offered him. Since he had received a wound, not long before, he felt uncomfortable in it. Unprotected, he mounted on his horse, and rode about the ranks encouraging the men.

[Sidenote: § 5. Attack of the Swedes, and death of the king.]

At eleven the mist cleared away, and the sun shone out. The king gave his last orders to his generals. Then, looking to heaven, "Now," he said, "in God's name, Jesus, give us to-day to fight for the honour of thy holy name." Then, waving his sword over his head, he cried out, "Forwards!" The whole line advanced, Gustavus riding at the head of the cavalry at the right. After a fierce struggle, the enemy's lines were broken through everywhere. But Wallenstein was not yet mastered. Bringing up his reserves, he drove back the Swedish infantry in the centre. Gustavus, when he heard the news, flew to the rescue. In all other affairs of life he knew better than most men how to temper daring with discretion. In the battle-field he flung prudence to the winds. The horsemen, whom he had ordered to follow him, struggled in vain to keep up with the long strides of their master's horse. The fog came down thickly once more, and the king, left almost alone in the darkness, dashed unawares into a regiment of the enemy's cuirassiers. One shot passed through his horse's neck. A second shattered his left arm. Turning round to ask one of those who still followed him to help him out of the fight, a third shot struck him in the back, and he fell heavily to the ground. A youth of eighteen, who alone was left by his side, strove to lift him up and to bear him off. But the wounded man was too heavy for him. The cuirassiers rode up and asked who was there. "I was the King of Sweden," murmured the king, as the young man returned no answer, and the horseman shot him through the head, and put an end to his pain.

[Sidenote: § 6. Defeat of Wallenstein.]

Bernard of Weimar took up the command. On the other side Pappenheim, having received orders to return, hurried back from Halle. But he brought only his cavalry with him. It would be many hours before his foot could retrace their weary steps. The Swedes, when they heard that their beloved king had fallen, burnt with ardour to revenge him. A terrible struggle ensued. Hour after hour the battle swayed backwards and forwards. In one of the Swedish regiments only one man out of six left the fight unhurt. Pappenheim, the dashing and the brave, whose word was ever for fight, the Blücher of the seventeenth century, was struck down. At the battle of the White Hill he had lain long upon the field senseless from his wounds, and had told those who were around him when he awakened that he had come back from Purgatory. This time there was no awakening for him. The infantry which in his lifetime he had commanded so gallantly, came up as the winter sun was setting. But they came too late to retrieve the fight. Wallenstein, defeated at last, gave orders for retreat.

[Sidenote: § 7. The loss of Gustavus irreparable.]

The hand which alone could gather the results of victory was lying powerless. The work of destruction was practically complete. The Edict of Restitution was dead, and the Protestant administrators were again ruling in the northern bishoprics. The Empire was practically dead, and the princes and people of Germany, if they were looking for order at all, must seek it under other forms than those which had been imposed upon them in consequence of the victories of Tilly and Wallenstein. It is in vain to speculate whether Gustavus could have done anything towards the work of reconstruction. Like Cromwell, to whom, in many respects, he bore a close resemblance, he had begun to discover that it was harder to build than to destroy, and that it was easier to keep sheep than to govern men. Perhaps even to him the difficulties would have been insuperable. The centrifugal force was too strong amongst the German princes to make it easy to bind them together. He had experienced this in Saxony. He had experienced it at Nüremberg. To build up a _Corpus Evangelicorum_ was like weaving ropes of sand.

[Sidenote: § 8. What were his purposes?]

And Gustavus was not even more than half a German by birth; politically he was not a German at all. In his own mind he could not help thinking first of Sweden. In the minds of others the suspicion that he was so thinking was certain to arise. He clung firmly to his demand for Pomerania as a bulwark for Sweden's interests in the Baltic. Next to that came the _Corpus Evangelicorum_, the league of German Protestant cities and princes to stand up against the renewal of the overpowering tyranny of the Emperor. If his scheme had been carried out Gustavus would have been a nobler Napoleon, with a confederation, not of the Rhine, but of the Baltic, around him. For, stranger as he was, he was bound by his religious sympathies to his Protestant brethren in Germany. The words which he spoke at Nüremberg to the princes, telling them how well off he might be at home, were conceived in the very spirit of the Homeric Achilles, when the hardness of the work he had undertaken and the ingratitude of men revealed itself to him. Like Achilles, he dearly loved war, with its excitement and danger, for its own sake. But he desired more than the glory of a conqueror. The establishment of Protestantism in Europe as a power safe from attack by reason of its own strength was the cause for which he found it worth while to live, and for which, besides and beyond the greatness of his own Swedish nation, he was ready to die. It may be that, after all, he was "happy in the opportunity of his death."