GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS: 1594-1632. KING OF SWEDEN, THE NORTHERN HURRICANE

Introductory—The Holy Roman Empire—The Empire in the Sixteenth Century—The Coming of the Reformation—Calvin and Zwingli—England and Scotland—After the Reformation.

THERE are few young men educated in the English tongue to whom at one time or another the story of the famous Gustavus Adolphus, “The Lion of the North,” has not appealed as the epic of a hero they would prefer. They will remember how Rittmaster Dugald Dalgetty, the Scottish soldier of fortune in “ The Legend of Montrose,” always talked of him with bated breath as “ The Lion of the North and the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith,” and incidentally as a past-master among skilled soldiers.

The days in which his saga runs, the early years of the seventeenth century, were days in which professional soldiering of the Middle Ages had reached its climax. The mediaeval art of armies, their armaments and their handling was complete and complex, but passing before saltpetre, and about to fall to the ground faded and past retrieving before the musket and the grenadiers of Frederick William.

Before we can follow the story of Gustavus Adolphus, with his marshalled armies, his own skilled leading and all that gained him in the eyes of men that title “ The Bulwark of the Protestant Faith,” it is necessary to have some bowing acquaintance at least with the Europe of the sixteenth century and the stage on which he was to play, as well as to be conversant with the outline of the Reformation.

The atmosphere in which the story develops is charged with the history of the Holy Roman Empire and its vicissitudes, not only since the days of Charlemagne, but even since the Nordic races put an end to Kingsley’s “Troll Garden” and the evils that once was Rome. And to these interplaying currents of that Empire and of Europe in the sixteenth century came the thrice-disturbing conditions of the Reformation. The stage has to be set at the period when the various Germanic States, partly freed from the effective control of the Reich, and holding with varying degrees of steadfastness to the Reformed Faith, became involved in the political web which the Emperors and the Papacy had been weaving for the reconstruction of the Empire and the reassertion of the power of Rome.

The “Counter-Reformation,” it must be remembered, involved a very genuine internal reconstruction, as well as the movement for compelling by political and military means the Protesting States to return to the fold of the Holy Roman Empire, and to submit to the religious authority of the Holy Father at Rome as well. Moreover, the Papacy now came with something in its hands to offer to many of the more lukewarm adherents of at least the Reformation as understood by the followers of Martin Luther. It is necessary also to realise the condition of the Hapsburg dynasty in Europe in the Thirty Years War, and the need for a solid German Empire to meet the threat of the Turk on the Danube.

It is also necessary to set the stage with the scenery of the Scandinavian States in the sixteenth century, and to trace the rise of the Vasa dynasty to which Gustavus Adolphus belonged.

The struggle with the forces of the Reich that made the glorious epic of Gustavus Adolphus is not to be appreciated without some vista of the past of the Holy Roman Empire and what it stood for—the Empire which Voltaire said so truly in its last day was neither Holy nor Roman nor an Empire. But even an outline of the Reich, which lasted in some form not only to the days of Napoleon, but actually till the World War of 1914 and the Peace of 1919, and may yet arise again from ashes that are seemingly dead, must take us to the very roots of civilisation.

The Holy Roman Empire claimed, with little more than reasons of memory and sentiment, to perpetuate the grandeur that was Rome. But there is just a shade of history in the claim, a shade which takes on a deeper hue in certain lights, and perhaps finds justification in the fact that it was formed when the Empire of the East was still in being. In the year of our Lord 395, Theodosius the Great, the Emperor of Rome, died, and the mighty Empire, already shaken by its own weight, had broken in two, bringing forth for a while the twin Empires as of East and West. But the “ Troll Garden,” the Empire of the West, the Very Rome, was already doomed—doomed by all the laws of God and man, and in 410 came Nemesis, the sack by Alaric the Goth. Forty-five years later the Holy City, no longer virgin, fell once more to Genseric the Vandal, and Rome as the world had known it was no more. The great races that spawned in the valleys of the rivers of Northern Europe were now overrunning the Empire at will—the Vandals in Africa, the Visigoths in Spain, the Franks in Gaul. The dominion of mighty Rome had passed, and the news rioted through the civilised world. By a.d. 476 the Empire of the West passed even in name with the death of the last of the Emperors, Romulus Augustulus. It is true that the fissiparous twin, the Empire of the East, growing in importance, was between 527 and 565 firmly established under Justinian, but with all its wealth and might, and even in its evil, Byzantium never took the place of Rome. In Rome itself barbarian kings ruled over Italy, and while they ruled there came into the world another portent, which bade fair to change the trend of affairs in Southern Europe and in the Levant to a degree only second to the coming of Jesus of Nazareth. The teaching of “Islam,” the ‘Submission’ to the will of God, by the Prophet of Medina (622), a monotheistic faith that appealed to the ruthless Asiatic not yet ready for the gentler teaching of the Nazarene, was to alter the whole aspect of life on the shores of the Mediterranean.

But before this had taken place, the Christian Bishops of Rome were asserting the power of piety and learning over the barbarian chiefs who held the Seven Hills. Leo, whom history has called the Great, stopped the march of Attila the Him, and persuaded the Vandals to spare the shrines of Rome. The Bishop of the ancient city, even in those early days spoken of by the old heathen title of Pontifex Maximus, appeared before the world as the protector of Western Civilisation, and yearly appeared more indispensable in that capacity. He and his bishops converted the wild Danubian tribes, and with the Gospel brought them to some sense of the better ways that civilisation could show. He alone could stimulate all Christian folk to resist in concert the swarming, ruthless hordes of the Prophet’s following, and oppose that Arab Empire which, for a short space, was perhaps as great as the world had ever seen—greater almost than Rome in all her glory. Over the north of Africa, the then centre in many respects of Christianity, swept the horde of Arabs and their fanatical converts. At last was fought in France itself one of the decisive battles of the world, in the year of our Lord 732, when Charles Martel defeated at Poietiers the hosts of Islam which came swelling up through Spain. Twenty-two years later his son Pepin was crowned King of the Franks. In 771 Pepin’s son Charles, the famous Charlemagne to be, came-to the throne, to be crowned at Rome in the year 800, by Pope Leo III, Emperor and temporal leader of. all those over whom the Pontifex Maximus held spiritual dominion, and whom he had so long essayed to unite to save themselves from the Moslem peril. Then for a while this resuscitation of the temporal power at Rome was the equal of Bagdad, of Cordova, and of Byzantium. But it was not to be permanently re-established so easily. When Charles died in 814 his feebler sons could not hold the Imperial sceptre, and it wanted a century and a half before the Holy Roman Empire as known to the history of modem Europe could be refounded (965) by Otto I. It was, indeed, not until twenty years later, under Otto III, that the world saw the famous Sacerdotum et Regnum, that great partnership of vision and enthusiasm in which the Holy Roman Empire sought to unite Church and State and weld the princes of the world into one federation, the Emperor to control worldly matters, with the Pope of Rome by his side ordering' matters spiritual of God’s Kingdom here on earth. Whether the Emperor adopted the Papacy or the Papacy the Emperor, each in support of the other, is a matter perhaps of historical controversy, but the outstanding fact remains, that a great conception came into the world, compared with which the League of Nations is but a shadow. One church, one state, Sacerdotum et Regnum— unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, unto God the things that are God’s—under the joint and inseparable fraternity of Emperor and Pope. War was to cease, except a righteous war blessed by Rome, and we see how, when Norman William made war on English Harold, he must needs get a Papal Bull to justify so great an outrage within the Reich of Christian folk.

Alas! and alack! Warring, self-seeking man could not live up to so noble a conception. Neither could Emperor and Pope run long in double harness, nor could human nature at the Vatican exist without intrigue and unworthy dealing, so that the great conception faded into an Empire of little authority and a Papacy of many humiliating vicissitudes. In the six centuries which passed between the re-establishment of the Empire of Charlemagne by Otto III and the Thirty Years War, there has been occasion for a legion of histories, chronicling the successive Emperors and the states that formed the Reich. It is not, however, possible even to outline here the many struggles and phases, nor the quarrels with the Popes, nor the break with Italy. As the centuries passed, the Reich became little more than a group of independent states bound in some light bonds by an elected Emperor of much dignity but little power, a position which, as will be described, the coming of the Reformation had still further upset. This medley of states, grand duchies, kingships and the like totalled several hundred, grouped among themselves in varying and kaleidoscopic affinities, of which a few of the larger had succeeded in being accepted as the Electoral College which chose the Emperor. For some generations before the Reformation the Emperor had usually been elected from one of the three family groups which provided hereditary sovereigns to a varying number of the constituent states. Thus the Emperors had been a series of Wittelsbachs, Luxemburgs and Hapsburgs in turn. It will be remembered that Herr Feuchtwanger has used his magic pen to illustrate the politics and civilisations of the time in “The Ugly Duchess,” which is the story of poor hideous Margaret Maultasche and the ways of the Wittelsbachs. As the Reformation drew nigh Hapsburgs were the family on whom election fell, and who became so powerful throughout Europe.

Though the power of the Emperor had long faded, yet still the beneficent idea remained that he was a unifier and a peace-maker, if not an administrator, and it has been a tragedy for the civilised world that when the Reformation started, the Emperor, originally Wenceslaus, crowned as Charles V, should have been Duke of Burgundy, King of Spain, the Netherlands and the Spanish Indies as well as Emperor. His various affinities, ambitions and preoccupations made it quite impossible for him to play his natural role of pacifier and leader of German thought and aspirations. Added to the multitude of his troubles was that which for half a century had bulked so large to all South Germans and to all Emperors, viz. the menace of the Turks, now firmly established across the Hellespont and at the capital of the Eastern Empire, and wishful to step into the shoes of Constantine.

In the sixteenth century the states forming the Holy Roman Empire followed, in theory at least, the same lines as in early days, and the Emperor was one of the kings of the constituent states as well as overlord of all, but the Empire had no fixed capital. Its capital for the time being was that of the state to which the elected Emperor belonged, and the Diet of the States of the Empire met at different capitals in succession. The Emperor and the Diet had just as much political authority as the character of the Emperor was able to impose on the constituent states. Amid the many states in the federation were seven great ones whose heads were the Imperial electors, and who thereby enjoyed the title “Elector” in addition to that which they held as sovereigns, kings, grand-dukes and bishops palatine. Four of these electors were temporal sovereigns, viz. the King of Bohemia, the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, and the Elector-Palatine. The other three were prince-bishops, viz. the Archbishops of Cologne, Trier and Mainz. Practically these seven elected the Emperor, and the Diet was little more than an assembly of the principal autocrats of the Empire, and the lesser principalities were not even represented. The estates, which simply meant the rulers, met in three houses. The electors (except the King of Bohemia, who only voted in the election of the Emperor) met in the first, the lesser princes, ecclesiastical and lay, in the second, while the third consisted of the heads of representatives of the Free Cities. Except for the latter the peoples were represented only in so far as their rulers may be considered also their representatives.

Although the Emperor was in name still acknowledged to be the representative of the Caesars and of Charlemagne and of the Holy Roman Empire, his power, as has been said, was only what he himself could make it. He was now, too, the Emperor of Austria, and all connection with Rome had long gone. Though elective and not hereditary, it had become the custom to elect only a prince who belonged to the House of Hapsburg. The Emperor could express his displeasure with one of his princes by putting him “ under the ban of the Empire,” but if the offender was ruler of a powerful state and had a full treasury, the ban did not amount to much. Germany was divided into circles, in each of which an Imperial Court was supposed to settle disputes between the princes, but such courts were ineffective and little respected.

The general failure of the Diet to represent the people is perhaps best illustrated a little later by the fact that at the beginning of the seventeenth century some ninety per cent, of the people were Protestant, while the Diet was entirely opposed to the reformed faith and views.

Though the Emperor might have little real power, yet from time to time the personality of the holder of the Imperial crown would be little satisfied with such a position, and would aim at a more effective control, pulling strings and conducting intrigues to make his authority more effective. Such a one was Charles V, and a later Emperor, Ferdinand II of Bohemia, was largely responsible for the Thirty Years War.

The coming of the Reformation had brought for a while the position of the Empire still lower. The Emperor had not been able, as has been explained, to grip the situation as a German and swim to power, or to compose the strife, as the interpreter of German sentiment and German psychology. As the rulers of the states, backed by their people, secured the charter of the Peace of Augsburg, the influence of the Emperor who followed the Roman Obedience, and was therefore the more connected in men’s minds with Rome the arch-enemy, became for a while of still lesser account.

The dramatic period of religious and political upheavals which covered many years, and which history has called the Reformation, is perhaps the occasion for more historical literature than any great movement that the world has seen. It can be regarded and described from many angles and aspects, from many points and from the outlook of many ardent protagonists. It is the spirit of modern thought to take the widest interpretation of the stirring of men’s hearts and minds, and to see in the Reformation the same desire to break with formalism and priestly chains as prompted the teachings of Prince Gautama the Buddha, and made Ariana break away from Brahmanism. It represented, in fact, the great urge, which has not been confined to the Christian world, to get into personal touch with the Deity and the great first cause of all things. The same outlook would attribute the rise of Islam to a similar urge, and see parallels in the simple faith and teaching of the Prophet and his desert following with the uprising of Luther, of Calvin, and of Zwingli. Modern thought also would turn to the fact that the Reformation was largely the doing of independent Nordic peoples, who could not for many centuries brook the mass religion which appealed to the more southerly races of Europe, and this, too, would fit well with the urge that brought the Northern Christian King to head the movement against the Catholic League when the reformed faith was in danger.

It is, however, no part of the purpose of this book to deal with so complicated and contentious a story, further than to set the stage for Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, in his great act as the Bulwark of the Protestant faith, and for this a simple chronology will suffice.

For several generations movements in most countries against the religious conceptions and evils of the age had smouldered, been repressed and had broken out again in protest against the domination of the priesthood, the riches of the Church, and the errors and abuses that had grown up in the practice of the Christian life. How real they were is testified too fully by the attempts of the Church herself to put her house in order. But it was not till 1517 that the real crisis came, when the monk Martin Luther first published his thesis attacking the evils of the establishment, and set ablaze the conflagration which took such varied forms in the different countries of Northern Europe, where hitherto in some fashion the ecclesiastical sway of Rome had been acknowledged. Once lighted in so many places, the conflagration spread fiercely and could ; not be put out. It has, however, been urged, perhaps with truth, that had the reforming Popes who tried at the time of the Counter-Reformation to set their house in order, lived a hundred years earlier, and had the decisions of the Council of Trent then been arrived at, the Reformation itself would never have taken place. In that case the Christian world would not have been so disastrously riven, and the supremacy of the Latin Church in Western Europe might never have been called in question. Well has it been said that the “ifs” in history are the most romantic things therein.

In 1517 Martin Luther made his first stand, and entered into public dispute with Papal legates and Papal authority. By 1520 all Europe had turned to watch the monk of Wittenberg wrestle with his spiritual masters. To his religious arguments Luther was clever enough to add a stimulant to things temporal in the shape of a national appeal. He appealed to the spirit of German nationalism against alien jurisdiction and to the authority of Scripture against Papal error and Church tradition. The Pope issued a Bull of Excommunication, and Luther burnt it contemptuously in the market place. Had there been then any great German leader to take the headship, a new empire might have arisen, and had the head of the Holy Roman Empire been of German race, he might have led a national movement. But Charles V, who had just been elected to be head of the Reich, was a Burgundian and a Spaniard, and the fatal web of politics stood in the way. Though no German, he was terribly hostile to France, and the support of the Papacy was an essential factor in his combinations. He threw his influence on the side of Rome, and at the Diet of Worms Luther was put under the Imperial ban.

But the conflagration had spread too far to be extinguished. Powerful support had rallied to the cause and the movement for spiritual freedom. Peace between France and Reich had come in 1529, but when the Diet of Spire sought to repeal the Ban of the Diet of Worms, the German princes, to whom the term “ Lutheran ” may now be applied, combined in 1531 by forming the League of Schmakalden in defence of the declaration of faith known as the “Confession of Augsburg” (1530). A civil war within the Holy Roman Empire now threatened, only postponed by the reincarnation of the common enemy, France, and the outbreak of a war between Cross and Crescent on the Danube. Civil war, however, sooner or later was inevitable, and it was not long before it commenced.

A year after Luther’s death in 1546, the Protestants were heavily defeated at Muhlberg (1547), a defeat only mitigated by a quarrel between the Emperor Charles V and the Pope. In 1551 civil war again broke out, Catholic France, with a cardinal as minister, siding with and aiding the Lutherans. In 1552, by the Peace of Passau, freedom of conscience was conceded to the latter, and at last in 1555 some end to the bitter tangle seemed in sight when the “ Peace of Religion ” was signed, also at Augsberg. By this peace it was stipulated that each prince in the Reich should determine the religion of his own subjects—in other words, the people of each state, through their ruler and not Rome, should decide in what way they would worship their Maker and their Saviour.

Great was the freedom thus gained, and firm the position thus established, but it did not suffice to maintain for all time and against all comers the principles at stake, for the quarrels and disputes that supervened were acute enough. . The first and most obvious difficulty was that only Luther- ism was provided for, while the security of the reform movement, as seen through the spectacles of Zwingli and Calvin and followed by many people in Germany, needed equal care and forethought. The Peace of Augsburg left Protestants other than those who followed Luther still unrecognised and exposed in law to all the pains and penalties which confronted heretics from the Rome obedience. This fact and the breach between Protestant and Catholics, which no confession or peace of Augsburg could heal, were to culminate in that terrible struggle known as the Thirty Years War.

The Reformation, however, as just described, was the Reformation as it crystallised in Northern Germany and Scandinavia, in the form of a reformed episcopal church, and the outline necessary to the understanding of the events that forced Gustavus to take the stage is not complete without some sketch of the form that the breakaway from Rome took in the remaining portions of the Nordic world. Reference has been made to the stir which for some generations had been in process in the hearts of Christendom, and the feeling that all was not well in the machinery of religion, and how the burning zeal of Martin Luther brought the movement to a head. But Martin Luther spoke for the Germans, while the same urge in other nations was breaking into leaf and fruit in other ways. It is interesting to notice that at this same period, when the effects of the Renaissance had repercussions all over the civilised world, in India the rise of Baba Nanak, the hero of simplicity and piety, was contemporary with the rise of Luther. There came the same recrudesence of the fervent belief of the brotherhood of man and the sense of the folly of the social distinctions and formalisms with which Brahmanism had bound the people of India. Under the first Guru the faith ran back to the simpler teachings and conceptions of an Almighty to whom all men were children and before whom all men were equal inheritors. As persecution drove the Protestant States to arms, so persecution turned the simple disciples or Sikhs into a fierce military brotherhood, German and Swedish peasants into stout pikemen and Scottish graziers into dour swordsmen. As the Reformation came to Germany and the new teaching to France, to Switzerland, to the British Isles, the flame spread each for each and all for all, according to the psychology of the national blend, leaving, however, it is to be noticed, most of the southern strains alone, but carrying with it the Nordic peoples.

In Switzerland an independent and unconnected movement came to the surface at much the same time as Martin Luther’s inflaming appeal in Northern Germany, but from a different angle. In the mountain state a trained scholar and thinker outside Holy Orders proclaimed the reforming outlook. There Ulrich Zwingli had brought a personal research into the Scriptures to head the movement, but he had opened his challenge to ecclesiastical authority by denouncing the obvious evil of indulgences. At the same time he headed a political outcry against the hiring of Swiss nationals as soldiers to foreign powers, and this brought him into political as well as ecclesiastical dash with Pope Leo X, who had sought a year or so earlier to hire a Swiss contingent for war with France. By 1520 Zwingli had gained the ascendancy in Zurich, and through his influence the Municipal Council had denied the ecclesiastical and spiritual authority of the Bishop of Constance. From Zurich as a centre the movement spread to the other Swiss cantons, and even clashed with the Lutheran movement, from which it greatly differed. It is to be remembered that the Lutheran, like the Anglican reformers, maintained the belief in the spiritual and mystical elements in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, and thus were able to embrace within their ranks those of all shades of religious colour who yet yearned to escape from Rome and her more grievous errors. To Zwingli the Eucharist appealed as a commemorative rather than as a sacramental and mystic rite.

But Switzerland was a loose confederation, and as some of the older cantons adhered to the old obedience, a civil war of religion broke out, in which in 1531 Zwingli lost his life. By a peace that followed, each canton was to be free to observe its own variant of the Christian faith, and thus, as in Germany, the Reformation served as a disintegrating force.

To the Swiss reformed teaching, however, was now to arise a still more acceptable form of protest, in the independent city state of Geneva, which bade fair to dim the leading of Zwingli. Here in the year 1534 came the French divine and ex-student of law, Jean Calvin, a convert to the reformed movement in France, to become the guide, and eventually the stern ruler, of the reformed faith in Geneva. More uncompromising than Zwingli in his attitude towards the crucial question of the sacrament, his denial of the mystic teaching was far more emphatic. It has been said that while Luther admitted all the teaching of Rome not contradicted by the Scripture, Calvin would only admit that which Holy Writ specifically enjoined.

Thus by the middle of the sixteenth century the Protestant movement on the continent had taken two distinct forms: that of Lutheranism, which accepted a reformation under the guidance of kings and rulers, where the State as a body accepted a reformed Church free of Papal domination, and that of Calvinism, which developed a reformed movement within countries which were officially still cognizant of the authority of Rome. In the one State and Church reformed themselves, in the other the individual struggled for personal religious freedom.

It is necessary to be sure of this point to understand the causes of the Thirty Years War. Under the one system wars of states might ensue, under the other must exist persecution and oppression that treated Protestants as rebels and outcasts.

The heroic community of the Huguenots, the reformers of France, which drew to itself so many of the best and sturdiest people in that country, followed, and was inspired by the teaching of Jean Calvin. Yet France, be it noted, however bitter the struggles between the Catholics and Huguenots, and. however exulting on occasion the cry “Hau Hau Papegots! Faites place aux Huguenots!” never concerned herself particularly with Papal ascendancy, and at times made short work of the Popes and their claims. France was for France, and France came first, so that we see a Catholic France with a cardinal minister openly and avowedly supporting the Protestant States of Germany as part of her policy of combating the allembracing ambitions of Spain.

As English gold and Scottish hearts were to take so prominent a part in the epic of Gustavus, it is not unimportant to outline the Reformation in the British Isles in its correlation with the Continental movements. In England the Reformation followed lines very different from those of Zwingli and Calvin, or even the moderate State- supported movement of Martin Luther. Anglo-Saxon England had never thought too much of the dominion of Rome, and the memory of that Papal Bull of 1066 remained when the Norman stock had long amalgamated with its Saxon cousins. The stolid common sense of the race rejected the fierce enthusiasms of the dour, white-banded, black-gowned gentry from Geneva, and merely set itself, after a manner peculiarly its own, to purge its Church of such errors and components as it did not like, retained its national and Apostolic Church thus purged, formally forswore any allegiance to Rome, and got on with its business of a sacerdotum et regnum of its own, copying as it were the original ethics of the Holy Roman Empire for itself. It is true that the come and go of the black-gowned divines from Geneva produced many dissenting views which ran riot for a while after Charles I drove Church and State on to the rocks of rebellion, but returned for the most part to episcopacy and her own reformed system. North of the Tweed, Geneva and its dourer creed took grip of the harder folk who there reside, and John Knox’s teaching of the Calvinistic faith produced the Presbyterian form of Church government and the Church of Scotland something as we know it today, with, however, some considerable adhesion to the reformed Anglican method of the Episcopacy. How, from the original movements in the world, the curtain bellied and swayed in the wind before the national forms of the Christian faith crystallised out, is beyond the scope of this book, as well as are the merits and the phases of each form of teaching. Matthew Arnold has perhaps pronounced the most peacegiving, tribute-bearing epitaph to the struggle of earnest men that can be said, if we look on the spiritual as distinct from the political struggles with which the Reformations were so inextricably interwoven. Seeing how Protestantism had brought the world away from the mediaeval savagery of outlook, he could but say that “if Catholicism held the secrets of Christ, yet Protestantism had His methods.”

And thus furnished with the foregoing faint print from the negatives of Time, we may turn to the great politicomilitary episode of “ The Lion of the North ” following his destiny as “The Bulwark of the sore-pressed Protestant Faith,” to his victorious end at Lutzen.

As the sixteenth century drew to a close the Reformation, which had been established, so far as Germany was concerned, by the Peace of Augsburg, was to be drawn into a bitter struggle again. During the years of tranquillity which followed that peace, fresh troubles were fermenting. The Counter-Reformation, as it is termed in history, took place between 1534 and 1590. Between these years there had sat on the Papal throne six popes of wisdom, character and zeal. Under their guidance the Church of Rome “removed crying abuses, purged its creed and restated its formularies.” The establishment of the Order of Jesus brought renewed strength and zeal, and the Council of Trent in 1563 added perhaps the coping-stone, but too late to regain the confidence of Northern Christianity. The Reformation had come to remain, despite its derivative of the CounterReformation, and despite the endeavour of an ambitious Emperor to revive the lost power temporal for the Holy Roman Empire, to restore in his religious zeal that Empire to its obedience to the Holy See, and incidentally to guide the Hapsburg barque to the port of hereditary Imperial Throne on the flow of the Papal tide.

The regenerated Church of Rome had found in Philip II, the son of the German Emperor, Charles V, who had succeeded in 1556 to the throne of Spain, an unbending ally. Religion and politics were once more blended inseparably. The issues that had arisen so fiercely in the earlier days of the Reformation were now, in the latter days of the sixteenth century, once more to the fore in every country in Europe. The throne of Spain included the Netherlands, Milan and Naples as well as the Spanish Indies. For forty-two years Philip, in addition to asserting the supremacy of Spain in the civilised world, devoted himself to the principles of the Counter-Reformation and the restoration of Europe to the Roman Obedience. For his pains he succeeded in losing the command of the sea to England, the Netherlands to a Protestant republic, in setting up a strong France obedient to herself alone, and also, it has been said, in laying the foundations of the British Empire. The long wars of religion in France had shown that two-thirds of that nation intended to remain Catholic, but that she, in face of a ring of Hapsburg states on all sides of her, considered France, Protestant or Catholic, to be more important than any other cause. From this dread of Spain and the Spanish net of envelopment we shall see arise the somewhat anomalous spectacle already referred to of a Catholic France led a second time by a cardinal, supporting the Protestant States of Germany in their long war against the Emperor and the CounterReformation.

The Scandinavian Countries—The Victory of Denmark—The Rise of the Vasas—The Successors to Gustavus Vasa—The Upbringing of the Young Prince—Charles IX as King— Muscovy at -the Beginning of the Seventeenth Century—The Aggression of Denmark—The Death of Charles IX and the Accession of Gustavus—Gustavus Adolphus the King.

SOMETHING, too, of the story of Scandinavia is needed before Gustavus Adolphus can be brought on to the stage, and some correlation of Sweden with the reformed movement. In view of the sympathy and support which he received from Great Britain, it is well to remember that the Scandinavian people in the sixteenth century were not so very remote from their connection with the history of the British Isles, and, further, that the Angles and Saxons from the German shores of the Baltic differed little from the Danes' and Northmen and Normans who overran Britain by way of Northern France. It was a Danish king whom Norman William slew at Hastings, and the whole story of the overrunning of Britain by Scandinavian men was little more than a quarrel in the family. With this reflection, always of interest to those who speak the Anglo-Saxon tongue, the story of Scandinavia may pass from the eleventh to the fourteenth century, when the three northern kingdoms, Sweden, Norway and Denmark, were united in a convention known as “ The Union of Calmar.” Margaret, daughter of Waldemar IV, King of Denmark, widow of Hakon, King of Norway, had succeeded in obtaining the sovereignty of both those countries on the death of their rulers. A little later the Swedish King, Albert of Mecklenburg, was expelled, and Margaret was successful in obtaining the sovereignty of the third also. Her heirs should have been content to enjoy the triple crown, but the master partner in the business was Denmark, and when Eric had succeeded Margaret, Sweden found herself no longer on an equal among equal partners, but treated by King Eric’s Government almost as a conquered state.

During the reign of Eric’s successor, Christian I, the Swedes successfully organised a revolution, led by the Grand-Marshal Canutson. Sweden, now largely Lutheran, was then ruled by two regents in succession, claiming the title of administrator, Steno Sture and Suahte Sture, while all the time Denmark, aided by the sympathies of the clergy, intrigued to regain the ascendancy. Suante Sture, the second of the administrators, died in 1504, and a year or so after there succeeded to the Danish throne the notorious Christian II, a sovereign noted for cruelty and ill faith, and consumed with an ambition that nothing could satisfy. The election of a new regent, Steno Sture, afforded an opportunity for active steps to regain the Danish ascendancy over Sweden. The Sture family was again to furnish the administrator, but the Archbishop of Upsal, Gustavus Trolle, son of one of the rival candidates for the administratorship, always Danish in his sympathies, threw his weight on the side of Christian II. Through the Archbishop, Pope Leo X was induced to pass a sentence of excommunication on the new administrator, the young Steno Sture, and the armies of Denmark entered Sweden on the pretext of enforcing the spiritual edict, spreading fire and sword without ruth as they advanced.

However-so-much right and justice was with the Swedes, the trained might of Denmark was too much for them, Steno, the administrator, had hurried forward to meet the forces of King Christian and the powers of the Church, collecting from all sides his peasant levies and militia. But victory is not always with the just, and the Swedes were heavily defeated on the banks of Lake Veler, young Steno Sture being mortally wounded, whereon the levies dispersed and the King pressed on to lay siege to Stockholm, the only remaining fortress in Swedish hands except Calmar. The capital fell to a prolonged blockade (1520), and Christian proceeded to an act which has always been looked on as one of the most infamous in the history of the civilised world—that known as “the Blood-bath of Stockholm.”

An assembly of the clergy and nobility was bidden to Stockholm, to witness Christian’s coronation and investiture with the Order of the Golden Fleece, conferred on him by the Austrian Emperor Charles V. The ceremonies, carried out with great magnificence, and followed by the revelry usual to the period, ended in cruel perfidy and tragedy. On the third day of the proceedings appeared the Archbishop of Upsal, followed by many dependants and ecclesiastical supporters, who came to appeal against the acts and edicts of the late administrator and many of the nobles under him.

Ninety-four of the lords and magistrates of Stockholm were seized then and there by the conqueror. Since they were all excommunicate by the Papal Edict, formal trial was not considered necessary. After a few hours of inquiry they were led away to the scaffold, many still wearing their robes of ceremony. The same fate was even extended to their followers, and then the Danish troops, searching for more suspects, “burst into private houses and filled every quarter of the city with scenes of bloodshed and outrage.” This act of perfidy, worthy to be classed with the massacres of St. Bartholomew, calculated to cow the desire of the Swedes for independence, not only sounded the death-knell to Danish supremacy, but conducted as it was under papal shelter, was also a potent instrument in driving the Swedes into the uprising against the domination of Rome itself which was now brewing in Northern Europe.

Among the high-handed acts of Christian had been the treacherous seizure of seven of the leading Swedish nobles, who were carried off to Denmark as a security for the behaviour of their friends and relatives. Included in this party was the instrument destined to bring about the downfall of the Danish King and to inaugurate the dynasty from which was to spring “The Lion of the North.”

Gustavus Ericson, who bore the surname of Vasa, was Grand Standard-bearer of Sweden, and famed for his daring in the short war of the Danish invasion. Carried off to Denmark before the executions at Stockholm, and being a young nobleman of patriotism animated by the highest courage and enterprise, the news of that culminating act and the complete surrender of his countrymen stirred in him the resolve to be his country’s liberator. Escaping from his guards, he succeeded in landing close to the fortress of Calmar, and there endeavoured to win over the Swedish garrison to support their own cause of Swedish freedom. The Governor, however, threatened to hand him over to the Danes, and the latter, having some inkling of his arrival, proceeded to comb the countryside in the hope of achieving his capture.

Gustavus was now compelled to betake himself to the wilder parts of the countryside, and even to earn his living as a labourer in the mines, undergoing adventures comparable with those of the Bruce, until at last, at the fair of Mora in the wild district of Dalecaria, he was able to stir a crowd of miners and peasantry. The people, always of a mind to revolt, took fire at his eloquent representations of the misery and humiliation of a foreign yoke. The countryside flew to arms, and fell on a Danish garrison that held the district, carrying their outpost by storm. North, south, east and west the news sped like the Fiery Cross, and a multitude of outlawed Swedish gentry and sturdy peasantry flocked to the standard of Gustavus Vasa. The memory of past atrocities, and indignation against many acts of oppression, provided the incentive wanting in the days of Steno, so that steadily the Danes were driven from province after province, of which they had been in occupation for three years past.

Christian, furious and inhuman as ever, first threatened to put to death the mother and sisters of Gustavus, who were in his hands. The threat did not stay the progress of the victorious insurgents, and, to the horror of Christendom, the most Christian King carried into effect his atrocious threats.

Such acts but bring their own punishment, and Sweden, now thoroughly aroused and organised, declared the bereaved and outraged Gustavus to be her GovernorGeneral and Administrator, and shortly after, at the convention of the States held in 1523 at Strengais, offered him the vacant throne. Denmark had suffered too severely to do more than accept the situation which the energy of Gustavus had created, but was able, under an agreement known as “ The Recess of Malmo,” to retain the southern Swedish province and the island of Gottland.

Sweden, now freed for the time from all fear of Denmark, enjoyed a generation of consolidation at the hands of a ruler of imagination and capacity. Industries, commerce, arsenals and fleets grew and prospered, and the monarch was eventually gratified by a national declaration that the crown should be hereditary in the Vasa dynasty. The evil memories of ecclesiastical tyranny and the Papal Edict, that made possible “ the Blood-bath of Stockholm,” together with the deeds of the Archbishop of Upsal, gained him also steady support in his adherence to the principles of the Reformation, which now spread steadily throughout the country. Finally, Roman Catholicism was displaced without bloodshed, and Lutheranism accepted in its place as the national form of religion, the Confession of Augsburg being accepted as the national standard of the Christian faith in Sweden.

Gustavus Vasa was now a recognised independent sovereign, acknowledged as such on all sides, even entering into an alliance with France and receiving an invitation not only to join the Protestant League of Smalkalde as an independent Protestant state, but also to put himself at its head. And so the years rolled on in peace and prosperity from 1523 to 1560, when, on September 29th of that year, Gustavus Vasa, the saviour of Sweden, full of years and honours, was gathered to his fathers.

Great as was the reign of the first Gustavus, he was not destined to start a dynasty and a succession of which his country could be proud, and when he passed away, rich in his own years of service, unrest and misrule were to be Sweden’s portion once again. The King had married twice, first Catherine the daughter of the Duke of Saxe- Lauenburg, and secondly Margaret the daughter of a noble Swedish family. To Eric, his son by his first marriage, he naturally bequeathed his throne, such authority being essential to the due succession. To the three sons of his second marriage, John, Charles and Magnus, respectively Dukes of Finland, Sudermania and Ostrogothia, he bequeathed the provinces from which they derived their titles as fiefs under the Crown.

The heir, Eric, however, had displayed disquieting qualities for several years, and it was said that, but for fear of a civil war, Gustavus would have disinherited him. His temper is recorded as a contrary mixture of rashness and vacillation, and he was much given to gloom and suspicion. His marriage with a woman of the humblest extraction, after proposing an alliance with Mary Queen of Scots, and even Elizabeth of England, did not add to his prestige. His first acts on ascending the throne drove his brothers into revolution, and at an assembly of the Estates of Stockholm the crown was formally transferred to his half-brother John, Duke of Finland. The wretched deposed King was taken into semi-custody, and after being moved from fortress to fortress, was eventually poisoned.

But John of Finland was destined to give little better kingship than his half-brother; constant and unprosperous wars with Muscovy undermined his substance and his prestige, and he lost the town of Narva. The religious dissensions of the age were not to leave Sweden peaceful in the bosom of the Lutheran Church, and a Prayer-book controversy tore the country, due to John having attempted to introduce the Liturgy of the Roman Church, thus rousing the indignation of all Lutheran supporters. His brother, Duke Charles, however, was a stout supporter of Protestantism, and under his leadership and guidance all retrocessions proposed by the King were countered or evaded. King John, moreover, was married to a Catholic wife, a Polish princess of the house of Jagellon, and ther son Sigismund was clandestinely brought up in the ancient obedience. While Sweden struggled to ensure the prominence of the Protestant faith throughout her lands, Sigismund, through his mother’s influence, was elected King of Poland on the demise of Stephen, the reigning King. To Sweden this election was a distinct menace, since the heir to the Swedish throne, if also a Polish king, might call in his Polish troops to enforce the cause of Catholicism in a country wedded to the reformed faith. The popularity of, and reliance on Duke Charles were still further enhanced by this incident, and when, after years of strife, King John too passed away in 1592, thirty-two years after the death of Gustavus Vasa, the dying King was reconciled to his brother, and appointed him administrator of Sweden pending the return and accession of Sigismund.

The new administrator lost no time in endeavouring to safeguard the adhesion of his state to the reformed faith. Summoning the Senate, he put before them the danger of accepting Sigismund as king except with very strong guarantees. The Senate, duly alarmed, declared Sigismund unworthy of the crown, but advocated the summoning of a General Synod. The Synod unanimously declared that the Confession of Augsburg alone could rule the faith of Sweden, and the States-General, now summoned, unanimously ratified the decision of the Synod. But Sigismund had by now arrived to assume the crown, bringing with him a crowd of Roman ecclesiastics, and also the Papal Nuncio, Malespina, whom he proposed should crown him, rather than the Lutheran Archbishop of Upsal. Sigismund was crowned by the Nuncio, but it was hardly the way to his subjects’ hearts, and still less so was his refusal to guarantee any of the existing laws regarding religion. The storm of protest of the clergy and nobility frustrated his design, and he finally left Sweden in disgust, the administration of the country still remaining in the hands of Duke Charles. The latter first removed all the Catholic governors whom Sigismund had hastily appointed in what was really an attempt to carry out the arrangements of the Peace of Augsburg by compelling Sweden to follow their sovereign’s faith. But far too much water had flowed through the Swedish rivers to make that possible, and Duke Charles summoned the Diet of the Estates to consider the crisis.

The Diet, which was both alarmed and indignant, confirmed Duke Charles as administrator. It reaffirmed the articles which Sigismund had been compelled to accept at his coronation, but afterwards repudiated, as being an essential for the well-being of the land. But there was still in Sweden a considerable party among the nobles who inclined to Sigismund and also the Roman Obedience, and by whom the latter had, no doubt, been encouraged in the course which had lost him the Vasa crown. The Governor of Finland even went so far as to oppose the Duke with force. The Senate, however, was reluctant to equip the Duke with troops to compel the acquiescence of Finland without a further authority from the Estates, who were again summoned by the Duke. They must, he said, reaffirm their policy and give him full support if they wished that policy to be effective. The second summoning of the Estates resulted in the Duke becoming a virtual dictator, and those who had opposed him fled to Sigismund with their complaints. The latter was not prepared to accept the decision of the Swedes, and actually invaded the country with an army of Germans and Poles, issuing a manifesto denouncing the administrator. Duke Charles now raised troops and summoned levies to oppose the invaders, and after some reverses emerged triumphant from a second battle. Sigismund was then compelled to hand over those who had fled to him and agree to the Duke as administrator until the Diet had once more been summoned. To this meeting came deputies from the Empire and from the German electors to lend a hand in settling Swedish affairs. Sigismund himself slipped away to Dantzig, still threatening to return and chastise his uncle, the administrator. The Swedish Estates, however, were now determined to settle the affairs of Sweden to their own liking, and to put an end once and for all to the disorder into which their country had fallen, and assembled at Jon-Koping. From thence they sent what was practically an ultimatum to Sigismund, demanding :

(2) That he should either embrace the Protestant faith or send his son Vladislaus to be brought up therein.

Failing compliance, they would declare him virtually abdicated and would proceed to elect a successor.

Sigismund, infuriated, did not even deign to send a reply, and matters took the course inevitable in a country of resolute men. A fresh Convention, assembled at Stockholm, deprived Sigismund of his crown, but offered to confer it on his son, giving six months for a reply. None being received, the Estates now implored Duke Charles to accept the position. This at last he consented to do, thus becoming King, with the title of Charles IX, in 1604, a position to which gossip affirmed, not unnaturally, he had always aspired.

Much as his staunchness to the cause of his country and the Protestant faith may entitle Charles IX to the grateful remembrance of his country, it is as the father of the subject of this memoir that he must be especially notorious. On December 9th, 1594, his second wife, Christiana, the daughter of the Duke of Schleswig- Holstein, gave birth to a son in the royal palace at Stockholm. To this child was given the name of the illustrious Vasa, and, in memory of his maternal grandfather, the second name of Adolphus. The young Gustavus Adolphus was ten years old when his father succeeded to the title, as well as the position, of the King of Sweden.

Now that Charles IX has become King of Sweden, and his son is ten years old, the childhood and upbringing that make the man are due to be recorded. It is written in the histories of Sweden that the celebrated astrologer, Tycho Brahe, was bidden cast the lad’s horoscope, and a remarkable one it proved to be. It predicted a career of great splendour, a violent death and the subsequent extinction of the dynasty. A governor and a staff of teachers had been appointed, the former being Otho de Moer of the House of Brandenburg, and among the staff was the accomplished John Skytte. Sweden is still full of anecdotes of the Prince’s capacity, memory and high principles, and his eagerness in the pursuit of learning. By twelve years of age he was said to be fluent in five of the principal languages of Central Europe. In 1609, when Gustavus was fifteen years of age, was concluded the twelve years’ truce between the Powers that had been so long at war in the Low Countries, and many of the distinguished Continental and British professional soldiers engaged in that war either journeyed to Sweden or came to offer their services to the Swedish Government. The young Prince, who had long shown his predilection for matters military, even more than for his gentler studies, was delighted at their presence, loved to listen for hours to their tales of the wars, to handle their arms and accoutrements and to ask their views on matters military. It is on record that the veterans were much impressed with the lad’s eager questionings, and recognised both his general ability and his martial affinities. There can be no doubt that Gustavus’ soldierly instinct and the military skill of his maturer days owed much to the suggestive influence derived during his most impressionable years from these past masters of the art who frequented his father’s Court.

But deeply intrigued as he was with the military lore, his tutors managed to instil into him the main points that should actuate a monarch in dealing with affairs of State. His governor was further able to implant in the young Prince a very real sense of religion and piety, and a love of the Testaments, which were to remain with him all his life, endear him to the Protestant states, and sustain him in the last years of his strenuous career, when he was to face the victorious armies of Tilly and Wallenstein and to save the whole of Germany to the Protestant faith.

If the final settlement of the throne had brought internal peace and consolation to Sweden, it had not achieved the same in her external relations, or in the neighbouring countries. War had been waging for some time in the land across the Baltic, in Esthonia and Livonia, and was likely to spread. Livonia, once the last possession of importance in the hands of the Knights of the Teutonic Order, had been ravaged by the armies of Sweden, of Muscovy and of Poland. It had finally been exchanged by the Grand-Master of the Order with Poland for the Duchy of Courland, and later had become tributary to Sweden. But when Sigismund became King of Poland and quarrelled with his own Sweden, Livonia transferred her allegiance to Poland, possibly because her proximity to that country made her more accessible to Polish than to Swedish invasion. A year before his accession to the throne Charles had lost three thousand of his best troops in an attempt to recover the province, and had been compelled by the Poles to retire to Sweden, barely escaping defeat and captivity himself. He was not, however, prepared to sit down under defeat or the loss of this province, and the next year’s campaign was more successful. As this debatable province enters much into the earlier wars with which the young Gustavus was beset, it is as well to glance at the conditions which enabled it to be brought back by Charles IX to the Swedish fold. The condition of Muscovy contributed considerably thereto, and must therefore also be surveyed in some perspective.

In 1523 had died Basil of Muscovy, grandson of John the Blind, who when Grand-Duke had just assumed the title of Tsar. Before his death he had deprived Poland of the principality of Piescow and the Duchy of Smolensk, leaving as his successor to the new title and increased territory his son John Basil. The latter died in 1534, after continuing the building of modem Russia by adding to his dominions part of Livonia and the kingdom of Kasan and Astrakhan. John Basil left two sons, Feodor Ivanovitz by his first wife, Demetrius by his second. Feodor was now Tsar, whose reign was notorious for his attachment to his favourite Boritz Goudenou, on whom he had bestowed in marriage his uterine sister. Feodor was childless, and Bortiz Goudenou became Tsar in succession to his brother-in-law. His succession, however, was complicated by a strange occurrence. A young man declared himself to be that Demetrius, half-brother of Feodor, whom Boritz was believed to have murdered, claiming that he had escaped the assassins. The mother of Demetrius, possibly assisted in her self-deception by a desire for vengeance, admitted the claim of the impostor to be her son. Boritz could not well produce proofs of the murder he was believed to have committed to refute the claim. The Palatine of Sendomir, attracted by the claimant’s manner and address, gave him his beautiful daughter to wife, and began to raise troops to support his son-in-law’s claims. Sigismund, King of Poland, also supported the claimant and his father-in-law. Boritz, in despair, swallowed poison. The false Demetrius now entered Moscow and was proclaimed Tsar, as the true brother of Feodor Ivanovitz.

His triumph, however, was short-lived. Unpopular taxation roused the hostility of the people, while too fierce a scrutiny surrounded the throne for the imposture to long be undetected. There being no legal claimant, a leading noble of Muscovy, one Basil Ivanovitz Zuski, formed the design of seizing the throne himself. At the head of his supporters he secured the gates of the palace, and rushed to the apartments of the false Tsar. The latter threw himself from a balcony, but was dragged back, slightly injured, to Zuski. The mother of Demetrius, under threats, had disclosed the whole imposture, whereon Zuski shot the false Demetrius dead and made himself Tsar. The Tsaritza Mariana was imprisoned, and the supporters of the impostor, to the number, it is said, of two thousand, were put to death.

But the drama was not to end with even this series of tragedies, for, behold, a third Demetrius appeared on the scene, declaring that Zuski’s shot had but killed an attendant and that he himself had escaped. Mariana now also managed to break from her confinement, and at once acknowledged the new claimant as her husband. Sigismund of Poland could not keep his hands out of so interesting an imbroglio, especially as he had some hopes of adding a portion of Muscovy to his dominions. He, too, affected to accept the authenticity of the third Demetrius, and launched his forces against the newly-elected and therefore no longer usurping Zuski. The latter, unable to face the combinations against him, but aware of the relationship existing between Sigismund and his uncle, Charles IX of Sweden, implored the latter to prevent the aggrandisement of Poland at the expense of Muscovy, and prayed for a force of Swedes to come to his assistance. Charles IX agreed, on condition that the part of Carelia at present included in the Muscovite dominion should be given to Sweden, and on this being promised, sent ten thousand men, under the command of Field-Marshal Jaques de la Gardie. The Swedish commander soon discovered that Zuski had no intention of keeping his word regarding Carelia, or had promised more than he was able to perform. Charles IX thereon commanded the Field-Marshal to take for Sweden as much of the coveted province of Carelia as he could, as an indemnity for the trouble and expense incurred at the instance of Tsar Zuski.

The condition into which the Muscovites had allowed their affairs to fall soon brought its own nemesis. Four hostile armies now ravaged the land. The Poles drove before them with ease the hastily raised levies of Zuski, who shut himself within the city of Moscow. The inhabitants, to avoid the miseries of a siege, offered to elect Vladislaus, the son of Sigismund, to the throne of Muscovy, if he would accept their form of religion, and if Zuski were allowed to withdraw. The triumphant Poles, however, would listen to no argument or proposals, and eventually stormed the city, amid scenes of license and massacre. Many thousands of Muscovites were killed, and Zuski and his brother sent in chains to Poland. While this was in progress the Swedish commander had overrun Carelia and had captured Kexholme, and then invaded Russia, laying siege to holy Novgorod itself. The virgin city fell despite its reputation, and was sacked without mercy by the Swedes.

Hitherto Denmark had stood inactive, without the whirlpool of war that had engulfed most of the northern states. But the war-fever increased in the kingdom, stimulated by fear that precocious Sweden might grow too powerful. Since the days of Christian II, when Sweden had broken free from the triple kingdom at which Denmark aimed, the old enmity had not been laid aside. Christian IV, ruling at the time of the war in Muscovy, had been anxiously watching the course of events in that country and Livonia, and was little prepared to acquiesce in the aggrandisement of Sweden that was likely to follow the success of that country in its incursion into Muscovy. The Treaty of Stettin had been deemed by Denmark little more than an armed truce, and the Danes had infringed many of the conditions thereof. But since Swedish hands were full enough, the Danish insults and aggressions had been swallowed, and Christian could not provoke, as he appeared to wish, a declaration of war. He therefore issued a manifesto of his own complaining of the conduct of Sweden, joined a league of Poland and Muscovy, and seized the Swedish island of Oeland, which lay due east of the fortress of Calmar on the Swedish mainland. This unwarranted attack was made when the apparent resources of Sweden were extremely low, her treasure exhausted, her best troops employed far afield, the Estates reluctant to furnish further military resources, the King seized with a fit of apoplexy. Indeed, the outlook was unpropitious enough. But the unjustifiable action of their neighbour roused the national spirit to the utmost. The Estates voted the war a national cause, and promised to support the King with all the resources of the land. Charles had sufficiently recovered to present his son Gustavus as having reached the age of discretion, fixed in Sweden at seventeen years. He had already been created Grand Duke of Finland, Esthonia and Westermania, and made Governor of Westeraas, and was held to be fit to take a share in the war with Denmark which was now inevitable. The lad had spent several years in strenuous military training, and was an accomplished man at arms, inured to the hardships of the field, and used to obey as well as to lead.

He was now sent by his father to Ostrogothia to raise troops and to despatch to the point of danger opposite Oeland certain available foreign corps in Swedish pay. The Danes were not content to let the seizure of Oeland end their hostile actions, for their fleet, after landing the garrison, proceeded in August 1611 to sail to the harbour of Calmar, the strongest of the Swedish fortresses, and landed an army under Christian himself to besiege the place. Twice were their attacks repulsed, but the third gained possession of the town, at the cost of fifteen hundred men. The castle, strong in natural and artificial defences, was well equipped to stand a siege, but ere the resolution of its defenders could be put to the test, the Swedish army, headed by its dying King in person, made an appearance and placed the Danes between itself and the castle. Just, however, as the Swedes were about to attack, the Governor incontinently surrendered, and Charles, after all his efforts, endured the chagrin of seeing the Danish ensign rise to the flagstaff head. Infuriated at this unexpected treachery and insulting setback, the Swedish King, following the example of Charles V and Francis I nearly a century earlier, challenged Christian to single combat, the challenge rehearsing the whole of the Swedish complaint against the Dane. King Christian in reply scouted the proposals, pointing out that Charles had already been chastised by the hand of God, and that he was more fitted for a warm chamber than the field of battle, and then proceeded to revile his opponent.

Despite the fierce exchange of words, the ensuing hostilities were trivial, and the Dane, content with his capture of Calmar, re-embarked with the bulk of his army for his own land. Charles, then falling on a Danish detachment, drove it into Calmar, and returned to Ny-Koping to attend the opening of the Diet.

Short as the war had been, however, it gave opportunity to young Gustavus to display his prowess. First, at the head of a small force, he landed and recovered Oeland and the castle of Borkalma. A further exploit secured the fort of Avesker in Blekingen in a manner that bade fair to inaugurate the glamour of soldierly prowess and cunning that surrounds his name. The young Prince had intercepted a letter from the commandant to Christian asking for five hundred horse, to enable him to stop the clearing of the country which the Swedes were engaged in. Gustavus, disguising his own horsemen as Danes, let them into the fort in the role of reinforcing partisans, and was thus able to approach the gate in sufficient safety to affix a petard and force an entrance. It is recorded that in so doing the Prince nearly came to an untimely end, for, riding over a frozen morass, the crust gave way, and, encased as he was in armour, he was extricated with difficulty.

The hour for the young Prince to come into his inheritance was now close at hand. He would have pressed his successes against the Danes had not the sudden illness of his father recalled him to Sweden. The strain and excitement of the Danish war had brought on a recurrence of the illness from which Charles had suffered two years before. On his way to Ny-Koping he was seized with so severe an attack as to necessitate an immediate summons to Gustavus, but as he lay dying came news that was more than gratifying. The Swedish army, under De la Gardie, had been signally triumphant against Muscovy. That state now craved an alliance against Poland, and offered to cement it by making the younger brother of Gustavus, Charles Philip, Tsar of Russia. In reply the dying King could but cite his condition, and handed the proposals to his heir to consider, passing away on October 30th, 1611.

It has been explained that Swedish custom recognised the coming to man’s estate at the age of seventeen years, but the Diet of 1604, which specially legislated for the succession, had ruled that the heir to the throne of Sweden must be of the full age of twenty-one years before he could succeed. Charles IX’s testament therefore, according to the custom of the day, provided for a regency until Gustavus should attain that age. The Queen-mother, assisted by six senators, was to be responsible for the kingdom, John, Duke of Ostrogothia, first cousin of Gustavus, being named jointly with the Queen as principal administrators. Among those thus nominated was one Axel Oxenstiern, who henceforward was to take so prominent a part in the life of the new King as his able and faithful Chancellor. Oxenstiern, though only eight-and-twenty, had attracted the attention of King Charles by his character and ability.

Two months after the death of Charles, the Diet of the Estates met at Ny-Koping, and came to a most momentous decision. Impressed, as all had been, with the military prowess, precocious wisdom and common sense of Gustavus, they decided to abrogate the rules of the accession laid down in 1604, and to place him in possession of the full powers of the crown. They accordingly at once requested the Council of Regency to acquiesce in a proceeding which put that body out of being. The Council, however, fully concurred, and relinquished their authority with alacrity, while the Duke of Ostrogothia, who was the younger son of John III, and brother of Sigismund King of Poland, formally renounced any possible claim to the succession which primogeniture and the custom of the country might otherwise have justified. The Duke’s feelings of loyalty and devotion were no doubt enhanced by his attachment to Elizabeth, the sister of Gustavus, whom he was anxious to obtain in marriage. He was, indeed, married to her very shortly afterwards, receiving with her as a fief the greater part of Westrogothia.

After their declaration in favour of the immediate accession of the seventeen-year-old Prince to the full responsibilities of kingship, the Estates passed a resolution of the fullest support to all his endeavours, and then declared their sitting at an end, deferring the coronation till the termination of the state of war should give more fitting occasion for the ceremony.

The young Prince rose to the occasion in a manner which showed at least that he was not likely to be wanting in that self-reliance that is one of the essentials of kingship.

He appeared before the Estates to signify his acceptance of the proffered crown, and addressed the assembled members in an effective and eloquent speech, saying that while he would have willingly acquiesced in, and profited by the minority and regency proposed in his father’s testament, nevertheless, since his mother and the Duke of Ostrogothia wished it, he, putting his trust in the guidance of Almighty God, was prepared to enter on the duties of the sovereign. He promised his faithful subjects that their prosperity and the maintenance of the Evangelical faith would ever be the aim of his life, and that he would never fail, so far as in his power lay, to preserve the rights and privileges of every Swedish citizen.

The handsome person and pleasing demeanour of the eager but self-possessed lad, as well as the simple eloquence of his address, produced most favourable impressions, and sowed the seeds of that personal devotion that made the career of the young monarch so remarkable in the history of Europe.

All writers are agreed as to the personal appearance of Gustavus in the heyday of his youth. By the acclamation of both sexes he was a handsome man, to be described, as was Saul the anointed of Israel, as “ a choice young man and a goodly.”

He is described as being considerably over the middle height, of commanding mien, well proportioned as to his limbs, active in his habits and highly trained as a man-at-arms. His hair light brown, his complexion ruddy and healthy, his blue eyes bright and piercing, he was typical of the Nordic races of Scandinavia, and indeed of Britain, and, with his short chin-beard, had an appearance not unlike that of Sir Francis Drake of noble memory. His dignified and courteous bearing, even in his early days, was noticed by all who came in contact with him, especially those whose knowledge of the foremost men of the day well qualified them to pronounce judgment. Also as time rolled on, the pressure of affairs gave a cast of seriousness and anxiety to a countenance originally so free from anything but boyish zeal and eagerness, and changed his blithe and active bearing to that of the grave and practised soldier.

The Conclusion of the Danish War (1612)—Gustavus Turns to Livonia and Muscovy—The Building of Sweden—The Young King’s Personal Development—Gustavus in Muscovy Again (1615-17)—The Years of the First Polish Armistice (1617- 20)—Gustavus Visits Berlin Incognito—The Marriage of Gustavus.

THE diplomacy, or want of it, of Charles’ last years was to leave his son with. three wars to be fought out of hand as best he could. Denmark, Poland and Muscovy had all to be settled, and the last was to be an eighteen- years’ job, but the immediate task was to finish the Danish war which the young Prince had been handling so handsomely. Among the first acts of Gustavus was to make his former guardian, Axel Oxenstiern, GrandChancellor of the kingdom, and his action in so doing was soon fully justified. Sweden under Charles had achieved some measure of success against Poland and Muscovy, but now bade fair to lose all she had gained unless the unprovoked attack by Denmark could be countered.

The King of Denmark had not entered on the war with Sweden lightly. No mean and inexperienced soldier himself, with a reputation for energy and determination, in possession of one of Sweden’s strongest fortresses—and that, too, with access to the open sea—the successes of the Swedes in Oeland were by no means sufficient to deter him from a vigorous prosecution of hostilities. To Gustavus, on the other hand, with the sound military instincts imbibed from the professional soldiers who had thronged his father's Court, the offensive in its most vigorous form appealed. The recovery of Calmar, important though it was, might wait, and the adventurous Swedish lad actually cherished the intention of aiming a blow at Denmark in her own territory. Overtures at mediation entered into by James I of England, at no very opportune moment, were entirely unsuccessful. The Danes, confident of the continuance of their initial advantage, and the Swedes, unaccustomed to submit to defeat, were in no mood for a cessation of hostilities. Anticipating an attack by the Danes on Elfsburg in West Gothia, the only port by which the Swedish trade with the mainland could be maintained, Gustavus himself advanced into the Danish province of Scania, leaving the Duke of Ostrogothia to watch the Danish designs on the former town. In Scania, Gustavus lived on the countryside, and advanced against the town of Helsingfors, but, as yet unaccustomed to the practical side of war, allowed himself to be surprised by the Duke of Lunenburg. In the profound darkness of a starless night Gustavus took to his horse with a small party of his men and endeavoured to rally his surprised bivouacs. He was, however, compelled to retire before the immense superiority of the Danish onslaught, losing his royal standard and even the kettle-drums of his own Horse Guards. The siege was immediately raised, and for some little time Gustavus was believed slain.

It was not long, however, before he had collected his surprised and broken forces and recovered his natural resilience. This achieved, he set himself to attack the Danes in Norway, when events in Sweden compelled his return. King Christian had embarked 8000 of his Danes on thirty ships, and was now in full sail for the Swedish port of Elfsnaben, but twelve miles from Stockholm itself. The Swedish Navy, outnumbered by the Danes, retired to its own ports, and this enabled Christian to carry out, as Gustavus had apprehended, his preliminary design of attacking Elfsburg, whose garrison he compelled to surrender. Thence he advanced further into West Gothia, and directed his troops on Jon-Koping, partly, it would seem, to draw Gustavus after him. When this effect was produced, he suddenly countermarched to the coast, and re-embarked his troops in pursuit of his original plans against Elfsnaben, sailing through the sound in prosecution thereof. But the lure of the metropolis of Stockholm, which he had to pass on his way to Elfsnaben, was too tempting, so he turned aside at Wapholm, in the immediate vicinity of the Swedish capital.

The military instinct of Gustavus was now developing, and, scenting his adversary’s intentions, the young Kingj left his station at Smaland, in the neighbourhood of Jon-Koping, and rapidly traversed the eighty leagues which separated him from his capital, with 1200 picked foreign mercenaries, whom he had recently engaged. Just as the inhabitants of Stockholm had given themselves up for lost, their young King, to their abounding joy, rode into their midst. The city had organised a stout burgher guard and armed the surrounding peasantry, to whom the professional troops with the King offered a stimulating example. Joining with the Stockholmers, and allowing his huscarles but two hours’ rest, Gustavus led forth the mass and offered battle to the Danes. King Christian, loathe to risk his troops against the unexpectedly large force which now appeared on his front, hastily withdrew to his ships and sailed away to Denmark, with only his original success at Elfsburg to compensate him for all the expenses that he had incurred. On the other hand, the unexpected appearance of Gustavus, after a forced march, to save his capital, much added to the latter’s popularity and growing military prestige.

The war season of 1612 thus petered out, and both sides were more ready to listen to the suggestion of mediation offered again by England. Much concerned to see two northern Protestant Powers quarrelling, Holland joined her good offices to those of James, and articles of peace were signed, largely owing to the influence of two British envoys extraordinary.

The fact that the two Swedish fortresses Calmar and Elfsburg still remained in Danish hands gave the latter some show of superiority to soften their failure, together with the reflection that the possessions always gave them the power to re-enter Sweden. These tangible results enabled the Danes to appear the victors in the recent fighting, and therefore to pose as the bestowers of a favour on the humble Swedes; and Gustavus was content to leave it at that. The actual terms of the pact were : a million crowns to be paid in six years, in return for the rendition of the captured Swedish fortresses, and the concurrence in the right of the Danish Crown to retain the three crowns on the armorial bearings, hitherto a grievance with the Swedes and often a cause of quarrel. The King of Denmark, in return, surrendered in perpetuity all claim to the throne of Sweden. The peace known as the Peace of Knarüd (1613) was duly ratified by the Estates of Sweden, and the young King was thus freed, on the comparatively easy terms that his arms had won, from a menace too heavy for a country that had hardly yet assumed its place among the kingdoms of Europe.

The story of the war had naturally percolated through the camps and Courts of Europe, and had lost little in the telling. The doings of Gustavus were much canvassed among the professional military circles that existed on all sides. The eighty-league forced march with his corps d’élite from Jon-Koping to the relief of Stockholm had attracted universal attention, removing entirely the memory of his surprise and defeat in Oeland, and the veteran Spanish soldier, General Spinola, prophesied great things of the Swedish King as a leader in the days to come. But the story of those great things is not to be read as a short thrilling episode, but in a reel eighteen years long. The boy-King grows to manhood and ascends to his prime, building his arms, building his state, beating off Muscovy and Poland, and it is not till 1630 that the final drama can be presented.

Released by the Peace of Knarod from the most pressing of the three wars that he had inherited, Gustavus was now free to turn his attention to the persistent but less immediately pressing threats from Livonia and Muscovy, and to inaugurate a series of events which was eventually to turn the upper portion of the Baltic into something like a Swedish lake. The Estates voted him half a million crowns for the operations he was planning, but it was a good many months before preparations were sufficient for him to take the field in person. Gabriel Oxenstiern, brother of Axel, was in charge of the operations against the Polish forces in Livonia, where the late King had already acquired the districts of Carelia and Ingria, when the Danish war broke out. The operations against Poland in Livonia under De la Gardie, as far as the Swedes were concerned, had perforce to be suspended during the Danish war, and Gabriel Oxenstiern, then Governor of Revel, had been able to conclude an armistice with the Polish commander, who was also ill supplied with troops, with no great difficulty. Muscovy too was hard pressed at the time by Sigismund of Poland, who, during the war between Sweden and Denmark, had been free to prosecute his designs on Moscow with energy and had directed all his forces thitherwards. Moscow had then become still more desirous of Swedish support, and had been still more anxious that the offer of the Tsardom to Gustavus’ brother, Charles Philip, already referred to, should be accepted.

For reasons that are not very clear in history, Gustavus or his advisers showed no eagerness to accept the offer for the young Prince. Perhaps their mother was averse to launching a son barely out of his teens on so troubled a sea—Gustavus may have doubted his brother’s character, so far as revealed at this early stage, or have been uncertain as to how his people might support such a scheme. It was not therefore till the end of the year that Charles Philip set forth for Wilburg in Finland. This dilatoriness, whatever the reason therefor, had compelled the Muscovites, who required an early decision, to look elsewhere. They proceeded to the election of another candidate, choosing Michael Feodor Feodorovitz, the son of Ivanovitz Zuski, in Philip’s stead, and when the Swedish candidate arrived in Wilburg, only Novgorod of all the Muscovite provinces had not ratified the election of Michael. That province invited Charles Philip to its capital, though it is possible that the proximity of the Swedish forces may have had some influence on the decision. The Tsar-elect, Michael Feodorovitz, at once took steps to bring Novgorod to a more proper sense of its allegiance by force of arms. The Swedish commander, De la Gardie, advanced his force for the protection of Novgorod, and sent to Gustavus not only for definite orders, but also to urge that the King should come in person. Gustavus was now unwilling to comply, but first, on the advice of Axel Oxenstiern, made overtures to Sigismund that the armistice existing at the moment in Livonia should be prolonged till 1616. Sigismund, now involved on his Turkish frontier, was willing enough to lessen the anxieties that might crowd upon him, and agreed, so that Gustavus had a freer hand to deal faithfully with the hosts of Muscovy.

While circumstances delayed the prosecution of the war in Livonia, for which the Estates had voted money on the conclusion of the Danish war, and had produced the delay in sending the brother of Gustavus to his Muscovite throne, the King had not been idle in his own country. Sweden still needed an administrative system worthy of her position as an independent state. It is not unreasonable to draw a parallel between Napoleon and Gustavus at this stage of his career. The civil work of the former for France was worth all the wars by which men remember him; the glory of the one was ephemeral, while the other endures to this day. And the same may almost be said of the civil work of Gustavus and his ministers.

With Axel Oxenstiern as his Chancellor in an alliance of confidence which was to last till Gustavus’ own early passage from the scene of his glory, the King inaugurated many new measures of government and of prosperity. A new code of laws, including many changes to meet the march of progress, was framed, and eventually, in 1618, published as the “Swedish Code of Laws.” In prosecution of his plans for commercial development, two confidential agents were sent to Holland with power to conclude a treaty of alliance with the Dutch Estates for a period of fifteen years, and generally to put conditions of trade on a mutually satisfactory basis. Similar proposals to Lubeck, at first frowned on, were soon eagerly adopted, when that astute town found that Holland was agreeing. Gustavus and his advisers had long been aware of the need for a convenient port that would open up facilities for commerce on the North Sea. Close to Elfsburg was a favourable site, and from this project rose the town and port of Gothenburg, which soon grew to wealth and importance. State aid and encouragement were given to the increase of the mercantile marine, and since, as Sweden had already found to her cost in the late war, sea commerce demands sea power, the King wisely turned his attention to providing a fleet adequate to protect his ports and their commerce. To a small country only recently coming into the great European picture, the development of financial resources, and its concomitant equitable taxation, was an urgent problem. To this problem and the related one of adequate currency Gustavus and Oxenstiern also turned their attention in this all-important period of planning and development, without which the coming war-storm could not have been weathered.

The Swedish Navy, established during these years, was ere long on an equality with that of any Power in the northern waters of Europe. Financial resources, too, developed and matured in response to the wise measures of the ruler, and thus Sweden was ready when the hour came to look Europe in the face. Lastly was the King’s attention turned to the institution of a supreme court of judicature, perhaps the coping-stone to the building of an economic state with many contacts.

It is a remarkable feature in the story of Gustavus that, starting on his career of kingdom development at so early an age, he did not disdain the study and pursuit of his own evolution, rather than leave it to the working of chance. The great measures inaugurated in Sweden which have been referred to were largely due to the vision and initiative of this boy-king of nineteen summers, guided and assisted by wise servants, but driven and led by himself alone, as the historians and witnesses of his own day and succeeding generations are only too ready to admit. To his own personal fortifying in wisdom and understanding he devoted such spare hours as the affairs of state permitted. Mathematics, the art of fortification and treatises on the military art were his special subjects, and he thus early developed a love for study which never left him. Contemporary writers love to tell of the lamp of study in the tented field, which burned late o’ nights while his army slept. Nor was the charm of manner or the infectious bonhomie of his boyish days crushed by the weight of his responsibilities. The Commentaries of Casar and the Treaties of Grotius rarely lay closed during his campaigns. The historians, indeed, quote from a letter of his tutor, John Skytte, given by Archenholtze in his “Memoires de la Reine Christine” : “In ipsis castris et in hostium suorum quasi conspectu, te optimorum aus lectione non abstinuit.”

The subsequent successes of Gustavus as a tactician as well as a master of strategy may well be ascribed to his study of these famous foundations of the military art which abide to this day. And especially from the Romans must he have learnt the importance of the filling of soldiers’ spare hours with interest and amusement of an elevating and stimulating nature, which became such a feature in the Swedish Army, and which helped to produce that reputation for discipline and good behaviour unknown to Europe for many a long day. But if youth is the time for study and self-expansion, it is also the time for other phases of a young man’s activities that may be equally insistent. One marked out already by personal attractions, good physique and human charm was not likely to neglect nor be neglected by the fair sex.

Among the daughters of noble houses in attendance on the Queen-mother at the capital was one of outstanding and renowned beauty, the Countess Ebba von Brahe. The good qualities of this sparkling young noblewoman had gained the affectionate regard of the whole Court, which her beauty alone might otherwise have antagonised.

To Gustavus the student, as well as the virile, her mental attainments appealed as much as her person, and his attentions became most persistent and most marked. So much was this so that the Countess essayed to leave the Court, lest the attentions of the King be misconstrued. Gustavus, however, was prompt in reassuring her of the honourable nature of his intentions, and in making a definite proposal that she should share his throne, and was rejoiced to find, as was likely enough, that the fervour of so attractive a young monarch had called forth similar feelings.

The Queen-mother, duly apprised, while conscious that high politics might demand a more important match, was too wise a woman to fan the flames of true love by opposing the lovers’ wishes. Time and tide might produce a change, and matters, she judged, had best be left to Fate. The young romance, the historians tell us, attracted much sympathy among the simple folks of Sweden, already much enthused with the prowess and wisdom of the nineteen-year-old King, and their love was the theme of many a popular ballad.

But kings must work and women must wait, and there came the harsh call of pressing affairs, that a monarch could but attend to, to check the idyll of love’s young dream. From the Muscovite frontier came the demand from De la Gardie for instructions as to his conduct in the face of Michael Feodorovitz’s army of Muscovy, and the stirring request that the King would be wise to lead his troops in person and see to the danger himself. Such a demand was not likely to fall on deaf ears, charm his Countess never so sweetly, and scent of danger and duty and the call of the drum a-rolling struck even a louder chord than the harp of love.

Wisdom and statesmanship were to guide Gustavus in his plans for taking the field, and, taking counsel with Axel Oxenstiern, the importance of freedom from pressure without was ever before him. The Danish peril was over, but the war with Poland was only suspended till 1616 by the casual truce in Livonia, and the actions of Sigismund were always a source of anxiety. But, fortunately, the Polish King was heavily involved with the Turks on his southern borders, and was willing enough to postpone his designs on Sweden and to agree to the extension of the Livonia truce till 1620. Thus unencumbered, Gustavus took the field at the head of his armies at Novgorod as soon as the season permitted, with only the thoughts of his Countess to minister to his fighter moments. Indeed, the letters that he wrote to her from the field during the first months’ separation have been often extolled as evidence of his sterling and chivalrous qualities and high ideals.

Having made arrangements for the Government in his absence, and having recalled the unfortunate Charles Philip to his mother’s side, Gustavus, with his reinforcements, joined the army of Marshal de la Gardie as soon as the season of operations had reopened, and assumed the chief command. His first operation was the storming of Agendor, chief town of the province of Ingria, which tendered its submission. Before him now stood the strongly fortified town of Pleskov, hitherto deemed impregnable. Blockading it, Gustavus first proceeded to besiege and force to surrender Ivanogorod, though it is not quite clear if Pleskov was actually taken too. The campaigning season of 1615 then closed with the capture of Notteburg, a town on a small island in the mouth of the Dneva.

With this second well-managed little campaign to his credit, in addition to his success against the Danes, his name coming naturally to the Bps of every soldier in Europe, Gustavus returned to Stockholm.

Lovers of romance will confess to some disappointment at this stage at the dying away of the love story which had so charmed sympathetic hearts. The Countess Ebba von Brahe had left the Court, and though Gustavus had corresponded with her for many months, his warmth had cooled. Whether it was that the plunge into stirring affairs, tented fields and hard campaigning had cured a boyish heart of what was but calf-love, whether Gustavus had really little interest in the fair sex, or whether, as his apologists suggest, influenced by his mother and counsellors, he sacrificed inclination on the altar of duty, there is no evidence to show. Arms and stricken fields and great affairs fill the hearts of men while women weep, all the world over, and we can but hope—though history here, too, is silent—that the idyll with the King had touched the heart and happiness of the Countess as lightly as it apparently had done his. We may be sure that her gracious influence in his very impressionable years had done much to help in the development of the more human side of his character.

In instance of the view that Gustavus did not seriously incline to the love of woman, or perhaps as illustrating a steadfastness or an uprightness unusual in those gross days, it is recorded that he had only one affaire before his marriage. In 1616 a Dutch lady bore him a son how fought under his father in the battle when the latter was killed, and thus may have been but a reflex of his disappointment in renouncing his Countess. So whether or not, as his Swedish biographers love to record, it was a stem sense of duty that tore them apart, suffice it to say that his love relations with the Countess were not renewed, and romance is the poorer thereby.

There is, however, a version extant that somewhat dims the Swedish story of romance, which is given by Chapman, anent the Dutch lady mentioned above :—

“The susceptible temperament of the young King, however, soon entangled him in an amour, which, too justly awakening the distrust of Ebba, induced her to dissolve their engagement. The object of this passing fancy was Margaret, the pretty daughter of Cabelien, a Dutch merchant who had come over in the late King’s reign and settled at Gottenburg. In vain Gustavus, in the most touching terms—love if not nature inspired him with the poetry—implored to be forgiven. The Queen had found in his inconstancy a power of dissuasion far more effectual than all her previous harshness; and in the year 1617 succeeded in betrothing Ebba Brahe to James de la Gardie, to whom she was married on Midsummer Day, 1618.” A footnote says that the son of Margaret Cabelien and of Gustavus Adolphus, who was bom in 1616, was created Count and State Counsellor, under the title of Vasaborg.

However that may be, matters of public import were to chase more personal matters from the King’s head. Soon after his return to Stockholm two important embassies arrived to urge that he should take a prominent hand in Protestant affairs. The first was a deputation from the University of Heidelburg, headed by the well known Dr. David Paraeus, one of the foremost theologians of his time, to crave his good offices in bringing about union between the Calvinistic and Lutheran Churches of the world. The second came from Maurice, Landgrave of Hesse, inviting Gustavus to assume the Chief Guardianship of the Evangelical League, recently formed in Germany.

Gustavus, in the presence of representations so flattering to the self-esteem of a young prince, behaved with singular wisdom, no doubt aided by the wise counsellors at his elbow. Realising how serious were the differences that separated the two great divisions of Protestantism, and that to effect reconciliation in such matters might pass the wit of the wisest, he was fain to decline. It was an old head on those young Vasa shoulders, too, which replied to the more acceptable invitation from the Landgrave of Hesse. Gustavus realised both that he himself was too inexperienced, and his country too recently established, to think of doing more than attend to its own affairs, which were, indeed, enough to keep busy sovereigns far more practised than himself. To set himself up as the opponent of the Emperor of Germany was more than he dare dream of, let alone Oxenstiern support. The coming of these embassies was but an earnest of many more of similar intent, which were to appeal to his strong Protestant sympathies, before he had so established Sweden and so dealt with her personal enemies as to be free to take the role to which he had long aspired

But though he had to dismiss the first two embassies empty-handed, nevertheless his personal charm and courtesies and the breadth and sympathy of his views, added to his liberal gifts, sent the envoys away loud in their praise and very cognizant of a great future that lay before the young King.

After the departure of the embassies Gustavus must needs turn his thoughts once more to the renewal of the operations against Muscovy. Having reorganised his forces after their winter cantoning, he again set forth for Finland, but happily more peaceful phases were to ensue, and diplomacy, hand in hand with his growing reputation, was to produce an eminently satisfactory settlement which was to last for many years. A great part of 1616 was spent in discussion instead of in warfare, while Gustavus made his headquarters at Albo, and early in 1617 was signed the remarkable Peace of Stolbova. It secured to Sweden, so far as Russia was concerned, undisturbed possession of Livonia, and Moscow also ceded the Russian provinces of Ingria and Carelia, already in Swedish hands, and with them five fortresses, Kexholm, Noreborg, Ivanogorod, Janra and Kapoorie, and also Novgorod, as well as half a million Rixdallers as compensation, and an undertaking not to assist Poland against Sweden, and, what was far more important, the loyal and enduring friendship of Russia till the end of the life of Gustavus. And actually as the wars with Sigismund dragged on, Michael Feodorovitz, the Muscovite Tsar, rejoiced with Sweden at her successes. James I of England, whose flair was for international peace and the extension of trade, and who still exercised his personal ambition to have a hand in European politics, succeeded, as in the case of the Dano-Swedish negotiations, in being a mediator between the parties.

Such results are not to be attained without that gift for diplomacy, as well as for discipline and administration, for which Gustavus was now becoming famous. Already the reputation for discipline acquired in the Russian campaigns and in the occupation of Finland, when his armies were still young, was being talked of in Europe, which hitherto only knew that welter of rapine and misery which the inhabitants of a war area always experienced as the inevitable concomitants of mediaeval armies.

The success which had attended the ventures of Gustavus in the field of Mars had by no means turned him into a war lord, and the development of Sweden as a progressive Protestant Power, rather than the building of his model army, continued to be his main care. Happily freed of the dangers from Russia and Denmark, it was now his aim to bring to an end the years of the quarrel, not with the Polish people, but with their King, his own blood relative Sigismund, and to turn the existing truce into an articled peace. But Sigismund, Swede though he was, had nothing but envy and malice in his heart for the country of his birth and its King; intrigue against them was the breath of life to him. Bitter Catholic in his religious leanings, the Jesuit influence, now the leading factor in the Counter-Reformation, urged him on in his anti-Swedish policy. Fortunately for Sweden, however, the Turkish embarrassments which had induced Sigismund to make the existing armistice, induced in him a desire to forgo until a more propitious period his more active hostilities, while Gustavus, hearing of certain attempts of his to induce another invasion of Sweden by Denmark, succeeded in bringing King Christian to a conference, and there renewing the bond of friendship entered into at the Peace of Knared.

Sigismund had now entered into definite alliance with the Emperor Ferdinand II, and had sent troops to assist him against the stormy petrel of the Transylvanian mountains, Gabriel Bethlem, more usually referred to by the local style of Bethlem Gabor. That chief had replied by loosing large hordes of his wild mountaineers into Sigismund’s Moldavian provinces, so that the latter’s hands were fairly full. He was therefore doubly agreeable to continue the truce, which Gustavus fondly imagined might really blossom into something better.

Thus secure for some years from his enemies, Gustavus was now free to continue his plans for his country, and above all to develop the army system which he had evolved in his own mind, and which was to be the model of all standing armies even to this day. His campaigns up to now had but confirmed him in the correctness of his views, and he was now to complete the framework, the regulations and the training of that force which was to stand him in such stead in the Thirty Years War and enable him to earn the proud title of the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith. How far his army plans at this stage were but the following of his own bent, and how far they were the result of deep insight into the future needs, it is perhaps impossible to say.

Gustavus was now twenty-four years of age, and with his penchant for the Countess von Brahe a thing of the past, the Queen-mother and his Ministers were alike anxious that he should marry. In the interests both of Sweden and of the Vasa dynasty, an heir to the throne obviously was more than desirable. Quite the most eligible and suitable Princess in the marriage market of the time was Maria Eleanora, sister of the Elector George William of Brandenburg, a lady noted for her beauty and her pleasing qualities. Gustavus was earnestly entreated to consider the propriety of an early marriage, with special leaning towards the Princess in question. The young King could not but recognise the suitability of such a match, but, being much too strong-minded and self-reliant a character to marry unless the lady pleased him, he set about, as a young man should, to verify her personal desirability for himself. Since he imagined that his good cousin Sigismund, hand and glove as he was with the Emperor, might well be disposed to upset his plans, he made up his mind to open no negotiation, but to travel incognito in Northern Germany, gratify a desire to travel, study its countries and see the Princess herself. This he proceeded to do under the name of Captain Gars (Gustavus Adolphus Rex Sueciae). He journeyed as far as Heidelberg, and saw and heard much of the ferment over religious questions and the political complications that were making for war. His intentions were, of course, known to Oxenstiern and his confidants, and, accompanied by a few servants only, he set out for Brandenburg. At Berlin he made known his identity, and was received with a cordiality that showed that the match he contemplated had not been unthought of in that city itself. The Princess of Brandenburg, too, was so pleasing to him that he made the necessary proposals forthwith, which were duly accepted by the young lady herself and her mother, the Dowager Electress. It was agreed that the marriage should not take place for some months, and Gustavus then returned to Stockholm as unostentatiously as he had come. The next year he revisited Berlin in a similar manner, accompanied by John Casimir, Count Palatine of the Rhine, the husband of his younger sister Catherine. The Count Palatine was able to show his brother-in-law, whose experience, save for his hurried tour of the previous year, was confined to his native Sweden, something of the more developed civilisation that flourished within the Empire. But the Empire had already slipped into that catastrophe that was to become the Thirty Years War, and the royal inconnu heard much of the eager talk in the Protestant states, and learnt more of the clash of religion with political self-seeking that those unhappy times were evoking.

Here was an education indeed that the young man from the country was experiencing, and we may be sure that he listened and questioned and pondered—this northern soldier-Prince, with the fire of youth, the resolution of maturity and the sturdy Protestant upbringing. It was also believed afterwards that his travels took him to Italy while the good Oxenstiern governed for him—visiting Padua and the very heart of Catholicism, and perhaps realising for himself the difference between the two views of Christ: that of the Catholics with the secret, and the Protestants with the method. It was said that no less a person than Galileo introduced “Captain Gars” to the University of Padua, and certain it is that his name was long after preserved in the registers there, and may even be so still. The Swedish historians make no mention of the visit, yet if go he did, as the registers bore witness, it seems impossible for him to have gone on any other occasion. He seems, too, to have stayed some while, still incognito, at the Court of the Elector Palatine Frederick at Heidelberg.

Soon after his return the marriage of this choice young man and goodly was to take place. By arrangement made with the Elector of Brandenburg during his tour, a Swedish fleet came across the Baltic to escort his bride to Calmar, where she landed on October 7th, 1620, accompanied by her mother, the Dowager Electress. On November 25th she arrived in state at Stockholm, where the nuptials took place, amid very genuine joy and enthusiasm for so bonny a pair and such prospects of a stable dynasty. Early in 1621 the new Queen was formally crowned, and at the same time as the celebration of the marriage, was also held, with equal thanksgiving, the centenary of Swedish delivery from the yoke of the Church of Rome. We know most of the young Queen from the autobiography of her daughter Christine, who perhaps over-estimates her mother’s virtues, but all accounts agree that Maria Eleonora, in addition to her bonny looks, had graceful manners and cultivated tastes. She would appear to have had no great reputation or aptitude for public affairs, as Gustavus always took care to see that during his prolonged absences in the field, authority in matters of state should not remain in her hands, all of which does not in the least militate against her as a fit and amiable helpmate. It is the fate of royalty often to be denied the match of love, but whatever were the promptings of the match besides the mere political value of the alliance, history is quite certain that the Queen worshipped her handsome if serious soldier King, and that he ever evinced towards her tender and sincere affection. Indeed, it may be said that this marriage of placid happiness certainly contributed to that level judgment and unflagging directness of purpose which so marked the short career of Gustavus. We may imagine the Queen-mother, still mindful of the beautiful Ebba von Brahe, congratulating herself that, happily and suitably married, there were no disturbing influences to unsettle the path of kingship. Into this path, after the way of young men of Nordic race, the Swedish hero started, and continued with unflagging zeal and devotion.

The Causes Underlying the War—The Outbreak of the War— 1622 and 1623—1624: Gustavus and Christian of Denmark —The Danish Period (1625-29)—The Annies of the Middle Ages—The Growing Army of Sweden and its System.

WITH the King of Sweden busy making the most of the five years of comparative peace which followed on the termination of the Danish war to set in order the economic conditions of his country, we may properly turn aside to glance at the conditions in Europe when Gustavus ascended the throne in 1611, and the causes of the Thirty Years War. That war first broke out in 1618, soon after the peace of Sweden with Muscovy and the truce with Poland, but in itself left Sweden unconcerned for some years.

The origins of the Thirty Years War are not far to seek for those conversant with the state of Central Europe in the hundred years following the Reformation. By the Treaty of Passau (1552), signed by the Emperor Charles V at the instigation of his brother Ferdinand, afterwards Emperor and the first of his name, through the immediate instrumentality of Maurice of Saxony, the position of the Protestant princes of Germany was definitely recognised and assured. They were then raised from the condition in all outward appearance of an oppressed party to an equality with the states of the Empire which adhered to Rome. But the conditions inherent in the relationships of the states forming the Holy Roman Empire, always involved, complicated and often indeterminate, became infinitely more so when religious differences were added to the divergent instincts and racial antagonisms already existing. It was not long after the settlement before both parties began to repent of an arrangement tacitly recognised as a truce of convenience rather than an enduring settlement. The Protestant states felt that they had not secured sufficient suffrages from their opponents, while the Catholics were imbued with the feeling that they had conceded too much.

One condition in the treaty already referred to was specially calculated to revive dissensions and animosities. It went by the name of the “Ecclesiastical Reservation,” and enacted, or endeavoured to enact, the principle that while the sequestration of ecclesiastical estates that had already taken place should be respected—that is to say, the Church property alienated by those who adhered to the Confession of Augsburg—any fresh apostasy by those holding Church estates should be deemed to carry with it the loss of such estates, which would revert to the Church of Rome for bestowal elsewhere. When the effect of this reservation was understood by the Protestants, they realised that it would aim a blow at any extension of the Protestant faith, and that few could afford to lose their estates for the sake of joining the reformed Churches. The Protestants accordingly, on the first opportunity, attempted a revision, which their opponents combated with ready argument.

But, as referred to in Chapter I, the benefits of the Treaty of Passau and the Peace of Augsburg applied to a moiety of the Protestant people, for those whose faith was regulated by the Confession alone were recognised. The followers of Calvin and Zwingli were entirely left out, and in Catholic countries were still liable to the pains and penalties of heretics from the Communion of Rome. Yet Calvinism had now many adherents in Germany, and one of the Electors of the Empire, the Elector Palatine, had actually placed himself at the head of the Calvinistic Churches. During the reigns of the successors to Charles V, viz. Ferdinand I and Maximilian II, the wisdom of the Emperors had minimised the complications that inevitably occurred. To Maximilian, however, succeeded Rudolph II, and the wise handling of his predecessors gave way to aggressive measures. One of the principal law courts of the Northern States was the Council of Spire, in which Lutheran and Catholic judges presided in equal numbers. On the other hand, another of the Imperial Courts, the Aulic Council at Vienna, was composed entirely of Catholic judges. To this court were transferred illegally many causes that should have been tried at Spire, and in the former, it was commonly asserted, no Protestant ever gained a judgment against a Catholic. In the city of Aix-la-Chapelle the Protestants had obtained the nomination of the principal magistrates, but were ordered by the Aulic Council to substitute Catholics, and on their refusal were promptly proscribed. The Elector of Cologne, who had embraced Protestantism, was driven from his territories, and the Bishop of Liège, of the House of Bavaria, instituted in his place. Numerous other incidents of a like nature followed in quick succession, and the Protestant princes, hitherto often in disagreement among themselves owing to the variety of reformed doctrines, began to feel the necessity for mutual protection. They were hastened in this resolution by events which matured a couple of years before the death of King Charles of Sweden and the accession of the young Gustavus.

In the year 1609 the ruler of the Duchy of Cleve, which included the counties of Juliers, Berg, Cleves, Mark and Ravenstein, died without heirs, and immediately the succession became a matter for many claimants. Of these the Duke of Neuberg and the Elector of Brandenburg were considered to share the best claims. The Emperor Rudolph, however, granted the title to the Archduke Leopold, Bishop of Passau, and threatened to support his nomination by force.

Fortunately for Protestantism, the armies of France and the united Provinces, under Prince Maurice and Marshal de la Chatre, occupied Juliers in defiance of the Imperialists under the Spanish General Spinola, and established the princes referred to.

But this threat to the Protestant cause called into being the famous Evangelical Union. This included as its principal members the Elector Palatine, the Duke of Brunswick, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Prince of Anhalt, the Count of Nassau and eventually the Elector of Brandenburg. The Catholic principalities, on the other hand, formed a Catholic League to oppose the Protestant Confederacy, which included the Duke of Bavaria and the Electors of Treves, Mentz and Cologne, the remainder of the principal constituents of the Empire. The Elector of Saxony alone of the Protestant States held aloof from the Confederacy, partly owing to the influence of Austria, but more particularly from dislike of the Calvinistic leanings of the Protestants in many of the States.

This situation, with Confederacy watching League, was to ferment steadily for many years before the Thirty Years War, which was to devastate the whole Empire, broke into flame. The actual fermentation was to come to a head owing to the action of Bohemia, a fermentation only the stronger by reason of the years that it had been brewing.

Bohemia had assumed a very definite attitude when the first indication of the Reformation was appearing, by giving shelter to those who were leading the demands for reform and exposing the corruption of Rome. The Bohemian Protestants, to whom the name of Utraqists or Calixtines had been given, owing to their early insistence on receiving the Communion in both kinds, had secured for themselves practically equal privileges with the Catholics. The Emperor Rudolph II, from whom his brother Matthias had succeeded in filching nearly all the hereditary dominions, and was endeavouring to add Bohemia thereto, in the hope of obtaining the support of the Protestants, had issued to them certain “ Letters of Majesty,” which confirmed them in their privileges. This action, however, belated as it was, brought the Emperor little advantage. Already was Matthias declared King of Bohemia, by the help of the Protestants, and in 1612, on the death of Rudolph, he was elected Emperor.

His attitude to the Protestants who had supported him now changed, and he showed a fine disregard of the many kindnesses showered on him, even interpreting the clauses of the Letters of Majesty to the benefit of his own Catholic co-religionists. Protestant opinion was waxing indignant, especially at the proceedings of Ferdinand of Gratz, nephew of the Emperor and son of Charles, Duke of Styria, towards the Protestants in his hereditary dominions of Styria and Carinthia, where the reformed religion was strictly prohibited. But Matthias in 1618 chose to resign his kingdom of Bohemia in favour of Ferdinand, now the Duke of Styria, a nomination which the deputies to the Estates of the Empire, bewildered by its suddenness and the presence of Imperial troops, duly confirmed. They did so, however, on the express condition that all edicts granted in favour of civil and religious liberty should be confirmed, especially those sanctioned in the Emperor Rudolph’s Letters of Majesty.

Hardly, however, was the ink dry on the institution to the throne than Ferdinand repudiated, either openly or virtually, every condition of his election. The important offices of state were filled by Catholics. Protestant churches were demolished, and the religious privileges granted by the Letters of Majesty violated. Bohemia was to fare no better than Styria and Carinthia. In May 1618 Matthias, Count Thum, protested vigorously in the presence of the Council of Regency, sitting in Ferdinand’s absence. A violent altercation ensued, and finally two high officials specially obnoxious to the Protestants, Slavata, the Imperial Deputy and President of the Council, and Martinitz, Burgrave of Carlstein, were flung from the windows of the Council Chamber to the ditch fifty feet below. A heap of rubbish saved their lives, but with this act of violence the torch was applied to the conflagration that had so long been preparing.

Following the system which gave resounding and enduring names to striking incidents, then so much in vogue, this episode was known as the “ Defenestration of Prague.”

The “ Defenestration of Prague ” marks the stage at which intrigue, oppression and dissatisfaction burst into the war that was to be known in history as the most sinister that Europe had ever seen, and was to last so long as to be known as the Thirty Years War. This war, in which religion served to cloak what was often sheer politics and political self-seeking, began many years before Gustavus Adolphus came on to the continental scene and raised the quarrel into the higher planes of military practice and military history.

The Defenestration was followed by a rising of the Protestants against the tyranny of the Catholics in Silesia, Moravia, Hungary and Austria. Count Thurn, believing that he and his associates had gone too far to recede, hastily commenced to raise an army. To him came the famous partisan and professional soldier, Peter Ernest Count Mansfield, recently released from his service with the Duke of Savoy, bringing with him a small body of professional troops of his own.

To them also came the Gabriel Bethlem mentioned previously, a mountain chief who had raised himself to be Prince of Transylvania, who professed the reformed faith, but more especially was actuated by chagrin at the refusal of the Emperor to recognise his title. He married later a sister-in-law of Gustavus.

The Emperor Matthias, staggered at the result of his imprudent action, endeavoured ineffectually to still the storm that he had raised. But Ferdinand, his nominee, had little desire to see an accommodation arrived at, and both sides stood to arms, the Imperialists being led by two soldiers of fortune, Counts Dampiere and Bouquoi. At this juncture Matthias died, and a new Electoral Diet was necessary. Ferdinand hurried to Frankfurt to vote, as the representative of the kingdom of which he was the nominal head. The Bohemians protested against the validity of his claim to represent them, and actively interposed to impede his journey. Count Thurn and a large following actually burst into Vienna and surprised Ferdinand in his palace. Sixteen armed men then rushed into his presence and demanded his signature to an agreement acknowledging the ancient constitution of Bohemia and granting an amnesty to all who had offended against his authority in the past. Ferdinand, who did not lack courage, refused, and would have been subjected to violence had not the trumpets of Dampiere’s cuirassiers sounded in the streets. This so startled the Bohemian deputies that they hastily made off to their own camp, while Ferdinand, fortunate in his escape, proceeded to Frankfurt, where he was elected Emperor and duly crowned.

Bohemia now proceeded to seek strengthening alliances with other Protestant states, considering that she owed no allegiance to Ferdinand. Her choice of a new king fell on Frederick V, Count Palatine, a son-in-law of James I of England, and a nephew of Christian IV of Denmark. Persuaded, it is said, by his English wife Elizabeth, he accepted the position, for which he lacked most of the qualities needed in such stirring times. But he was received with acclamation by the Bohemians and crowned in great state at Prague.

Some months of desultory warfare with the Imperial troops now ensued, in which Bethlem Gabor supported the Bohemians. But Frederick’s Protestant relations in England and Denmark had no intention of coming to his assistance. The States of the Evangelical Union, misled apparently by the intrigues of France, agreed to stand aside in an arrangement known as the “ Pacification of Ulm.” Even Bethlem Gabor was persuaded by the new Emperor to agree to a six months’ truce, and Bohemia now found herself alone before the wrath of the Catholic States.

The armies of the Catholic League, headed by Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, a man of profound culture, but bitterly opposed to the civil and religious principles of Protestantism, now advanced into Bohemia, 50,000 strong. With Duke Maximilian were many of those whose names are famous in the history of the long war.

The first engagement in the struggle took place on November 9th, 1620, and is known as the Battle of Prague, and also as the Battle of the White Mountain. The Bohemian levies were quite unable to contend with the veteran troops under Maximilian. In the short space of an hour Frederick had lost his new-found throne, 5000 Bohemians were killed in the battle and pursuit and many more were drowned in the Molday, while the Imperial loss was but 400. It was a sorry effort from those who would start a revolution, and the ruthless penalty was exacted to the last drop. The scaffolds were soon dyed red with the blood of the noblest in Bohemia, and hundreds of humbler followers were hanged or put to the sword. Of forty-eight of the leaders, twenty-seven were put to death with the usual gruesome concomitants of the period to the penalty for high treason. The Emperor Ferdinand, with his own hand, tore the Letters of Majesty, on which Protestant rights were based, burnt the Imperial seal thereon, and the exercise of Protestant worship was proscribed and abolished throughout the whole kingdom. The blood of martyrs to a religious cause seldom calls in vain, but the Battle of Prague sealed the fate of Bohemia from that day till the World War of 1914. Catholic and Austrian it remained to that day, an example perhaps of what might have befallen the rest of the Protestant states had not the hour eventually produced the man, in the King of the small Nordic State, which was still but consolidating its territories against the jamb of hostile neighbours who threatened to crush it—a king whom the Emperor contemptuously referred to as the “ Snow King.”

The unfortunate Count Palatine, King of Bohemia for this brief space, was now proscribed by an Edict of January 21st, 1621, and his territories were declared forfeit, while the Emperor charged Spain as holder of the sovereignty of Burgundy, and the Duke of Bavaria as head of the Catholic League, with the reduction of the Palatinate. This edict, however, was destined to open the eyes of Germany, and indeed of all Europe, to the over-riding pretensions and ambitions of the house of Austria. It was a flagrant and arrogant violation of the Golden Bull, the charter of the Germanic Constitution. The Bull declared that no Elector of the Empire could be deprived of his title and principality until he had been brought before the General Diet and his condemnation approved.

Yet so complete had been the defeat of the Bohemians that for the moment none but one stout soldier dare say the Emperor nay. Neither the Evangelical Union nor any of the Protestant Powers was prepared to face the imperial anger.

Count Mansfield alone, at Pilsen in Bohemia, was bold enough to encounter the Armies of the League, and to serve the cause of his master, who was still in name King of Bohemia as well as Count Palatine. He moved into the Upper Palatinate, but, unable to face the Duke of Burgundy, retreated by a soldierly march into the lower part of the country. Here, however, the Spanish General Spinola endeavoured to surround him, and this compelled Mansfield to withdraw into Alsace, and there, in some safety, rest his weary troops, while awaiting a better opportunity. And thus for the moment died away the attempt of the Southern Protestants to resist the Emperor.

Though for the moment no one was prepared to withstand the Emperor, nevertheless the Protestant world was keenly alive to the issues at stake. The news from the scenes of the war was heartrending enough. The Imperial armies raped and ravished both friend and foe, and left the countries they occupied destitute beyond belief, while the mercenary soldiers of fortune who adhered to the Protestant cause were little better, and a terror to their own side. “Do you think my men are nuns?” asked Count Tilly, the Catholic leader, in reply to a complaint of the ruffianly behaviour of his troops, and the whole of Germany groaned again. Frederick, Count Palatine, refused to yield or to acquiesce in his proscription, and gradually sorties adherents to his cause emerged. In the spring of 1622 Christian of Brunswick, an adventurer more than a supporter, and the Margrave of Baden- Durlach in the south, each with 20,000 men, had marched to join Mansfield. Thus reinforced, the latter sallied forth against Tilly, and for the moment surprised and defeated him. The Walloon, however, was too good a soldier for his opponents to meet successfully for long, and soon fell on the Margrave and beat him handsomely. Several of the Palatinate towns fell to the Imperialists, and Mansfield, driven forth, was obliged to abandon the Count Palatine and to take service with Holland. Maximilian of Bavaria was given the Upper Palatinate by the Emperor and made Elector. The Emperor then decided to carry the war north and move against the Dukes of Mecklenburg, Brunswick and Pomerania. The year 1623 was passed in fighting between Tilly, Mansfield and Brunswick, with varying fortunes, when at last Brunswick was defeated on August 6th on the Ems with heavy loss. The campaign had been accompanied by the utter and ruthless destruction of the countryside, which only had miserable respite when the forces on both sides went into winter quarters.

And all the while Gustavus, building his state and his army, gave no sign nor definite response to suggestions that he should come to the rescue of the Protestant cause. Shrewd as he was becoming in politics, both he and Oxenstiern knew that war must need resources, and that, unless the Protestant world outside the theatres of war was prepared to finance the Protestant cause in Germany, Sweden’s own resources, still barely consolidated, were quite inadequate to bear the brunt of the struggle. Further, with the fires of hate of the implacable Sigismund still unslaked, Gustavus knew it would be but folly to involve his country in a war with distant Austria.

By 1624, while the Polish truce was still operative, Gustavus found it possible to pay more attention to the continental situation. In the opinion of England, Denmark, and the Dutch Netherlands, it was obvious that the time had come to support the Protestant cause in Germany, and Gustavus was even at this stage prepared either to lead, if his conditions were accepted, or to act with Denmark. If Denmark would support the cause in Western Europe, Gustavus was prepared to march up to the Oder, through Silesia, with Dantzig or Stettin as a base, and fall on the Emperor’s possessions in Eastern Germany. Gabriel Bethlem, his admirer and brother-in-law, would always help to keep Poland quiet, unreliable in action though he might be.

France, French before she was Catholic, had long realised that Spain and Austria, the joint dynasty of the Hapsburgs, which included the Spanish Netherlands, was far more a danger than even the sturdy, prosperous Huguenots, and Cardinal Richelieu was fully determined to support the Protestant States against the Emperor.

In 1624 Gustavus intimated to England that if he were provided with abundant subsidies, a port on the Baltic and another on the North Sea, he was now prepared to accept the Protestant leadership. He further stipulated, mindful of his earlier years with Denmark, that an English fleet in the Sound should neutralise any hostile intentions of King Christian, and that he should be recognised as the supreme commander of all Protestants in arms.

But the time was not yet ripe for his exaltation to the premier role. James I of England was not prepared to pay the price, and, further, Christian of Denmark had somewhat rashly offered to undertake the leadership for less. This was accepted, and so began what is usually spoken of as the “Danish Period,” which will be treated of hereafter, a period of further disaster to the Protestant cause which cannot be described as unmerited. It is credible that Christian, in seeking an honourable part as the defender of the reformed faith, was actuated by more personal motives than was Gustavus, in which the enrichment of himself with the Bishopric of Bremen and other ecclesiastical possessions was not the least. When therefore in 1625 James of England accepted the proposal of King Christian, Gustavus withdrew himself to carry on his work of building the most famous army of modem times, and by way of an appetiser, to war once again with Polish Sigismund, who had refused to renew the now-expired truce with Sweden.

The Danish Period does not in its earlier years concern the career of Gustavus to any great extent, as the supporters of Protestantism had put their faith in Christian, and it is but necessary to give the earlier happenings in outline. The period covers the years of the war between 1625 and 1629, and is chiefly notorious for the disasters sustained and the horrors experienced by the forces and states of the reformed faith. When Christian of Denmark first appeared on the scene as the leader and champion of the Protestant cause, the war commenced five years earlier was for the moment quiescent, the Protestant states were cowed by the first successes of the Imperialists, and the latter resting, with many of their constituent forces demobilised or discharged. England had agreed to subsidise Count Mansfield and the Elector of Brunswick, which had the effect of putting at King Christian’s disposal the best part of 60,000 men, who, however, were not concentrated till November 1625. The Emperor had commanded Baron Wallenstein to collect and command the Imperialist forces, while at this time Count Tilly headed the forces of Maximilian of Bavaria.

The opening moves in this campaign of King Christian were not remarkable, though he was not without competent commanders under him, such as the Margrave of Baden-Durlach, Count Thum and the like. He marched into the Palatinate, with the object of making sure of the bishoprics of the Weser, put a garrison into the most important places, and, after some not very important successes over Imperial detachments, took post within fortified lines at Bremen. Thence he conducted some lesser operations against Count Tilly, and seemed to be. oblivious of the probability that Wallenstein would certainly ere long be likely to concentrate considerable forces against him. In fact, between the two Imperial Commanders some 70,000 men were disposable to encounter the Protestants. Count Mansfield, who had been preparing in the Lubeck and Brandenburg country, crossed the Havel, and took Zerbst, whence he moved on towards the Dessau Bridge on the Elbe. On April 25th, 1626, he essayed to capture it and failed. Wallenstein then counterattacked Mansfield’s now weary troops, and cut them in pieces. Mansfield, however, had power of recuperation, and there was no lack of recruits for a while. Reorganising his forces in Silesia and Brandenburg, he started in a month’s time across Hungary to join Bethlem Gabor, who was again in arms against the Emperor. For some reason never fully explained, Wallenstein thought it necessary to follow Mansfield. The latter’s manoeuvre succeeded in detaching Wallenstein for two years from the main theatre, for it was not till late in 1627 that he was back in north Germany, having lost two campaigning seasons. Mansfield’s long march was of little other service to the Protestant cause, for he found that the Imperial force had already compelled Bethlem to make peace. Mansfield was then obliged to disband his forces, and, falling sick of fever himself, died at Wara in Dalmatia, or some say at Venice. His death removed from mercenary military circles in Europe a notable figure.

While Wallenstein was marching to the east, Tilly, who had now concentrated his force, including a detachment of 6000 under Merode, left by Wallenstein, proceeded to press the force of King Christian, who finally advanced as far as Nordheim to meet him. Tilly now joined with Merode, and Christian withdrew northward. Coming up with him at Lutter on August 27th, 1626, Tilly inflicted a severe defeat, Christian’s troops fighting none too sturdily, and the latter withdrew to Holstein to refit.

The defeat was a blow to the Protestant states, who began to doubt the Danish King’s ability to fill the role he had assumed, and the countryside wagged its head ominously. Christian, however, had plenty of determination, and sent to his supporters, England, Holland and Venice, for help, so that as the campaigning season of 1627 opened he was able to muster 30,000 men. But he was cut off from the lower Saxon circle, and many left the ship that seemed so likely to sink. Brunswick turned to the Emperor, Mecklenburg ordered Danish troops to leave her territories, and Brandenburg sent reinforcements to the Poles opposing Gustavus.

With the return of Wallenstein from Hungary in the latter part of 1627 it seemed that the Emperor might again, after many years, re-assert his authority up to the Baltic, and opinion was by no means all against him. The Protestant folk of the countryside, harried by the troops of Mansfield and Brunswick almost as badly as by their enemies, were beginning to realise that at any rate Ferdinand stood for authority and order. The Imperial armies opened the season by reducing Silesia, and Tilly, crossing the Elbe, moved into Holstein. Wallenstein was now coming up through Silesia and Brandenburg, burning and extorting both plunder and financial contributions. Towards the end of August, Wallenstein crossed the Elbe at Winsen and moved up the Peninsula to Jutland. Christian was eventually driven to the coast, and obliged to embark for the islands, leaving a portion of his force that he could not get off to be captured. The Imperial cause was now triumphant, and the Empire had reached again to the Hanseatic towns. Ferdinand and Wallenstein now aimed at complete control of the Baltic, and needed ships from the Free Cities to enjoy that position. Wallenstein had himself made Admiral of the Baltic, and actually called for a Spanish fleet from Dunkirk. Without ships the Danes on their islands could not be further pressed. The armies and commanders under Wallenstein were loathed and hated, but also feared beyond resistance, and in 1628 the Emperor and his commandant, the one fanatical, the other tactless and imperious, came into touch with the Hanse cities, and Christian was compelled to abandon the Protestant cause. It was this situation which was to bring Gustavus into the war, both from his sympathy with the cause and his fears for Sweden’s own safety, although the threat to the Free Cities and his own naval ambition in the Baltic were perhaps the immediately deciding factors. Before, however, this can be dealt with, it is necessary to follow the fortunes of his prolonged war with Poland, which in its more active phases corresponded with the years of the Danish Period.

It is not out of place at this stage in the story of Gustavus, before accompanying him on his successful Polish wars, to hark back and glance at the armies and soldiery of Europe, as they were in and prior to his day, and then at the organized army of the seventeenth century as he conceived and formed it. In Great Britain and countries where the Anglo-Saxon tradition holds, army history, customs and folk-lore date from the Restoration of the Stuarts, when the standing army as we now know it had its origin. The drill, the arms, the method of Monk and Marlborough are household words, but the knowledge prior to this date is dim. Had the British standing army commenced earlier, its tradition would have gone further back. But on the Continent standing armies date their tradition fifty years or so earlier, to the story of the “new model” which Gustavus was to initiate and develop, with the same faithful care as Frederick William and Frederick the Great were to evince a century later.

The military art of Macedon and of Rome, allowing for the passage of time and the change of weapon, was the same as in the civilised world today. Units, higher formations, light and heavy troops, artillery, material, equipment were all codified and provided for with exceeding professionalism. Where the Empires extended, the art of organised armies extended too. The armourer and the weapon-maker developed the most remarkable personal skill, and the art of steel was as fine as the art of gold.

But as the Roman Army decayed with the Empire, the poison of the “troll-garden” wrought its work. The Goth and the barbarian developed their services en masse as horsemen, and actually rode down the legions. The Roman emperors took to enlisting mounted Teutons, and the glory of the disciplined legionaries vanished. The mounted soldier held the field till the British archer and the Swiss pikeman came to demonstrate the value of fire and discipline once again.

The feudal system had developed castles, and castles produced sieges, rather than battle and manoeuvre, but as feudalism waned, the foot-soldier in the open field became again the important battle factor, and with importance came organisation. The English bowmen brought the fire of that day to a disciplined perfection, while the Swiss pikemen, with their eighteen-foot pikes, were specially evolved to produce some sort of force which Teuton knights could not ride over. It was at Morgarten so early as 1315 that these pikemen destroyed the knighthood sent against them. At Crécy, Poitiers and Agincourt the footmen and the bowmen combined were too much for the horsemen.

But in all these days armies were only raised to meet the occasion, though there were always plenty of officers and men of experience ready enough to raise men-at-arms when war was imminent. Permanent corps, as such, outside the household troops of monarchs, rarely existed. Towards the end of the feudal days came the great rise of the Free Companies, and the professional nationless soldier who would produce troops of professional soldiers for the service of whatever master would employ them. These professional soldiers began to form the military opinion of Europe. The bigger leaders were men of great prestige and military learning, and among them the military art of the day was formed and fostered, and even recorded in many books and brochures which are extant to this day. The discipline of these mercenary troops in their behaviour to those outside their corps was usually atrocious, though so long as they were in an enemy’s country their mutual safety made them acquiesce readily enough in a harsh control that alone made their success possible. The severe military punishments which have been in vogue even in our own days largely had their origin in the penalties devised by the free companions and mercenaries themselves for their own protection against the vagaries of the more boisterous and unscrupulous of their number. Such discipline as the mercenaries enforced for their own protection, and to secure their toleration in the countries which employed them, altogether disappeared, so far as exterior behaviour went, when they entered foreign countries and traversed areas in the theatre of operations. Nothing could be more brutal and ruthless than the conduct of the mercenaries, especially when the commanders of the invading force were anxious to terrorise the land. Rape, murder, pillage, arson were the fate of the wretched non-combatant, and the tragedies and sorrows of the Thirty Years War in this respect are beyond all description, horrors which, generations before, the Holy Roman Emperor had been specially charged to avert.

To a world thus harrowed, the appearance and rumours of the godly army of Gustavus, with its discipline, its provosts, its honest and systematic methods of requisition and purchase, came as a revelation past all belief, and it was withal as terrible in fight as it was orderly in cantonment.

But the horrors of war were often hidden beneath its trappings, and in the last generations of the armour period we find that arms and accoutrements, trappings and embroideries, reached a richness that is in itself a striking tribute to the glamour which surrounds military life.

In contradistinction to the armies that were passing, the army which Gustavus had been building now merits detailed examination.

In the course of his early training, Gustavus, as has been related, sat at the feet of some of the best of those professional soldiers who had crowded to his father’s court, and had heard the accumulated wisdom of those whose business man-mastery, regimental tactics and weaponcraft were. Among them was many a dour and conscientious Scot, as well as the more rake-helly, baldrick-loving leaders of light horse. He learnt the advantages of discipline and the need for truth, as well as how soldiers do not live by manna and by cruses of oil, but on the hard forethought of their leaders, if war is to be successful. In his mind Gustavus conceived a permanent soldiery, well behaved, well entreated, with all the requirements of war properly supplied from magazines, rather than exacted at the sword-point from frightened and ravished villagers. He saw organised and homogeneous corps, men of worth rather than the scourings, controlled by a discipline based on common sense and mutual support, and animated by enthusiasm. As he grew in years and gravity in a serious Protestant state, he ministered to that spirit by seeing his soldiery God-fearing as well as disciplined.

In the five years which ensued on the conclusion of his peace with Muscovy and the patching of the first truce with Poland, he set himself to build up the famous army of the new model, better even than the new model of Cromwell himself. The methods that he adopted are the methods which govern such matters to this day, as they governed similar circumstances in Rome and Macedon. The commission was to be a post of honour, equal to that of the noble, a place in the ranks to be desirable to respectable peasants, and such details as lie at the route of organization, fixed establishments, tables of equipment and the like, all had their place. The national standing army of Sweden, however, was not the innovation or invention of Gustavus. It had actually been founded in the middle of the sixteenth century by the earlier Vasa Kings, and finding it thus to hand, it furnished the nucleus from which the great experiment of the King took shape. Before the days of Gustavus, in addition to the regular army nucleus aforesaid, there was also a militia. The former, as in Great Britain, existed for universal service, and the latter for home defence, the tenure of land involving liability to serve. This militia consisted of twenty battalions of infantry and eight regiments of horse, all of which received some modicum of simple training, and from them, the recruits for the regulars were drawn. Gustavus equalised the establishments of the militia units, and found that normally the population of Sweden could not furnish more than 12,000 to 15,000 men for permanent service. As his liabilities increased, he was obliged to enlist foreigners, and to his standards flocked those of the professional trained mercenaries who were prepared to accept the standard of behaviour which he exacted. Of such the Swiss furnished the most efficient and often the strongest quota. At this period Sweden alone possessed a standing army and a military system based on a territorial and organised militia. Denmark had no permanent organisation, while at the time of the Thirty Years War, even the standing army of France numbered but 15,000 men. Tilly and Wallenstein, during that war, had the best organised troops of the Catholic League, but devoid of real discipline, and what the population suffered at the hands of such troops will be shown later. In the Swedish Army, companies corresponded to the modem infantry company, with a total strength of 150, of whom seventy-five were musketeers and fifty-nine pikemen. The musketeers were the riflemen and skirmishers and the pikemen constituted the “line,” and were the heavy troops for offence or defence, heavily equipped with body armour. But equipment during the latter half of the sixteenth century was changing. The 18 ft. pike of 1534 had given way by 1572 to the 11 ft. partisan, which later was reduced to 8 ft.

The improvement in firelocks and fire-arms generally that was taking place was changing all ideas of the military art. Gustavus, realising that the musket was to be the dominating arm, increased his musketeers, reduced his pikemen and took off their armour to make them more mobile. In 1631 he actually went so far in advance of normal opinion as to organise battalions entirely of musketeers. It was in his day that the term “grenadier” was introduced to indicate the men who handled the newfangled and somewhat erratic hand grenade and who drew extra pay as compensation for their dangerous duties.

So early as 1623 Gustavus formed his companies in ranks six deep, four companies to a battalion, two battalions to a regiment and three regiments to a brigade. The clumsy harquebus and rest gave way to the lighter musket with rest, and eventually in the Swedish army the musket was lightened so as to save even the rest, so imbued was the King with the importance of mobility, and eventually the wheel lock superseded the matchlock. The next advance was that of paper cartridges, ten per musketeer. The bayonet did not come on the scene till after the death of Gustavus, who would assuredly have welcomed it and its concomitant, the light musket, known as the fusil (whence the term fusilier), said to be derived from the French facile or the Italian facile (fire).

In the armies of the other states of Europe, whether temporary or mercenary, similar change and evolution were in progress, and unending discussion thereon waged among professional soldiers, as in similar conditions in our own time, and there were many bewailings from the older hands as some pet weapon or piece of armour went out of fashion.

The development of mounted troops was also proceeding apace and in the Imperial armies cavalry was both heavy and light, the former the Teuton on the plough-horse, and the latter Croat and Kazak on ponies or light horses. Between the days of Gustavus and the earlier period of the knights in armour shock action was little practised. Cavalry moved up slowly to fire pistols, wheel away and load, till the cuirassiers of Gustavus, who, on the contrary, were trained to ride at speed and draw their steel, set a new fashion. He had specially turned his desire for mobility to the equipment of his horsemen, abolishing the old defensive armour and steel helm, retaining only the cuirass, and for head-gear the light morion or only a wide-brimmed felt hat, fashions which Cromwell adopted a decade later.

The ordnance of the day was cumbrous enough, divided into the categories of siege and field. Even the 6-pr. field gun weighed 1200 lbs., or 10 cwt. These pieces, which were on the heaviest and clumsiest carriages, once put into action, could with difficulty be moved. Gustavus, however, with whom the flair for equipment became more and more marked, went far ahead of contemporary art in producing a light field-piece, the like of which was not seen again till the nineteenth century, in the shape of a 4-pr. gun of 650 lbs., lightly mounted, which two men could man and one horse draw, from which great tactical results ensued during the later war with the Poles. The piece consisted of a tube trapped with coils of wire covered with a jacket that was in this case of prepared leather, thus in manufacture anticipating the methods of three centuries later.

It was in administration as well as in equipment, and modern thought as to tactics and training, that the Swedish Army was so carefully and phenomenally developed. Everything necessary was codified, such as pay, clothing, equipment, rations, etc. Transport on fixed scales was alloted to units. As these matters were entirely new, and hardly known since the days of the legions, the difference between the Swedish forces and the armies they encountered was most marked.

As Gustavus grew older his religious tendencies matured and the regimen of religion as a duty was established in his forces, which took fair hold among his simple and homely Swedish peasant soldiers, as it did among the Scots who served him, in many of whom the reformed faith and covenanting ways were ingrained. Chaplains with regiments, a soldier’s prayer-book, daily prayers, all heightened the standard of conduct and a reputation which was becoming continental, and so through the trial and error days of the Danish and Muscovite wars to the long experience of the perennial Polish campaigns, the army grew in strength, knowledge and experience. What it was actually like when the great days of trial ensued will be presented as the time arrives to throw it into Germany in the final period of the Gustavus epic.

Many were the stories current of the personal share that Gustavus took in the training and disciplining of his armies and of his enforcing the moral code on which he had determined. Duelling was a curse of the mercenary troops of the period, and against this habit Gustavus had set his face in no unmeasured terms. On one occasion so bitter was the quarrel between two high officers that they petitioned the King to allow them to settle their quarrel by the sword. The King signified his acquiescence, and intimated that he would himself be present. At the hour fixed for the duel he appeared, accompanied by a saturnine figure armed with a heavy sabre. Announcing that he had brought the executioner to deal faithfully with the victor, he bade the opponents set to. The story goes that the offenders, thus brought face to face with the true aspect of such quarrels, craved forgiveness, and in an Army order dealing with the matter the King stated that he wished “to have soldiers under my command, and not gladiators.” Those cognisant of the extent to which this evil had taken possession of some of the continental armies, in addition to applauding the action of Gustavus, will specially appreciate the strength of character and self-confidence that could take so strong a line against a habit engrained in the military men of the age.

The Waning of the Truce—Gustavus Landing in Livonia in 1621 —Sigismund in Dantzig and the Truce of 1622—The End of the Truce of 1622-25—The War in Polish Prussia 1626—The Continued War of 1627 and 1628.

FOR those who are eager for the epic of the famous years when Gustavus alone stood before the might of the Austrian Emperor, and stood for a while alone ere he could compel the Protestant States to save themselves, there is a long road yet to be read. A young man from the untutored north has some way to go and much to learn and build ere he dare take his place on equal terms among the Powers of Europe and the armies of the continent. For nine years yet is Gustavus to build his solid Sweden, to train his army, gain the confidence of the foreign soldiery and sharpen both their swords and wits as well as his own on the whetstone that the implacable Sigismund was to offer him. Fungor vice cotis, I perform the functions of a whetstone,” might well have been the motto of the Polish King. For he and his Poles were to provide sufficient elements of threat and danger to invigorate the Swedes, sufficient military prowess to demand the development of the system that Gustavus had devised and sufficiently capable commanders to call forth the inherent military genius that lay within the Swedish King.

It was while the early years of the Thirty Years War were dragging out their lesser happenings amid bloodshed and horror that the old struggle between Swede and Pole broke out once again, a struggle which, despite all the attempts of Gustavus to come to a satisfactory peace, was to last, with one interval of truce, for eight more years. During these years the appeals that reached him again and again from the Protestant States fell on seemingly inattentive ears. When the emissaries reached him first, as already related, he was in no position to give heed. He had yet to consolidate the resources of Sweden, to make his own model army, and above all to settle the question of the hostility of Poland. As the struggle grew more pronounced in the Palatinate we may be sure that the young soldier did intend to take a hand in the game in due course, and was busy training not only his army, but also his own resolution and character to that end. The old head that was growing on those young shoulders showed him, nevertheless, that he must wait till he could see clearly who was for who in the struggle, and that, whatever his inclinations, he could not move so long as Poland was unconquered and unfriendly.

The hope that the Polish truce might blossom into a peace was not to be fulfilled. Yet time and again during the years of strife that were to follow Gustavus was prompt to propose a cessation whenever any success might seem to make the Poles more reasonably inclined. Hardly had the festivities incident on his marriage come to an end than he was compelled to give his attention to the hostile attitude assumed by Sigismund. During the period of the last truce Sweden had not been backward, both by direct suggestion and through the good offices of friends, in proposing to turn the existing quiet into a treaty of peace and goodwill. But Sigismund could find no sentiment but hatred in his heart towards the land of his birth, and had made no response to the proposals of the peaceable Gustavus. In his eyes the latter was a usurper of his right with whom no peace could lie. The Turkish war on his frontier was still smouldering, but Sigismund preferred the peril of a further war on his hands to any arrangement that should put an end to his power to injure Gustavus and his dynasty. Many had been his attempts to create an atmosphere favourable to himself in Sweden, especially among those he suspected of harbouring animosity against the King. He had approached the Duke of Ostrogothia in the hope that he might be induced to reverse or revoke his own renunciation of any claim to the throne. The Duke but stirred himself to apprise Gustavus of the intrigue, and the temper of Sweden was rising in the face of such opposition to her reiterated wishes. The nation wanted universal recognition of the sovereign it had chosen, and was prepared to put an end to Sigismund’s aspirations and the willingness of his adopted country to support them. Sweden was perfectly ready to raise an adequate force from the militia, to be modelled on the permanent nucleus trained under the Gustavian model. So Gustavus the King, however reluctant to leave his new-made bride, was equally ready to train and lead the national army himself.

Before he started, the Estates being in session, Gustavus essayed to put himself and his nation right in the eyes of the world in an eloquent oration to that body, in which he rehearsed all the circumstances which compelled him to draw the sword, calling on high Heaven to witness that the quarrel was none of his seeking. His army and his fleet were waiting on the coast, and early in 1621 the Swedish expedition set sail for the shores of Livonia.

The reader who would follow the career of Gustavus must be prepared to follow, with patience, the eight years of wars with Poland. They are years of repetition, but years of building the veteran army that was to champion the cause of the sorely pressed Protestants, and they began with such a trouncing of Poland in 1621 that she signed a truce for three years (1622-25) more, during which Gustavus went on with his development of his national resources, and the building of his army of victory. Even then it was to take him four years to eliminate Sigismund from the tally of his enemies.

The war with Poland was the real commencement of the military career of Gustavus Adolphus, though neither he nor perhaps any one in Europe realised the share he was to be called on to take in the great war which at present smouldered somewhat fitfully within the Reich, far south of the Swedish range of action. That Gustavus himself had military ambitions we know from Axel Oxenstiern, who, writing after the King’s death, says that he had long cherished the idea of being king of the three Scandinavian kingdoms, which Denmark had also dreamed of, but it is not probable that he ever had a vision, at any rate at this period, of becoming the leader of a great Protestant combination.

Livonia had already seen the incursion of Swedish armies, and indeed was partly in possession of Swedish troops, who remained in occupation, with their centre at Revel, during the continuance of the first truce with Poland.

Livonia, like the rest of Central Europe, was torn into factions during the years of strain that followed on the Reformation. The Swedish invaders represented the reformed faith, while Sigismund belonged to the Roman Obedience. With a Roman Catholic King of Poland, Livonia was nominally a Catholic State, and in the days of King Etienne Bathori the Catholics had many privileges at the expense of the Protestants. The fortified port of Riga was especially a stronghold of those who professed the reformed faith. It had at one time been in possession of the Teutonic Knights, whose Grand Master, William de Furstemberg, had himself adopted Lutheranism. Riga was therefore to be the first objective, since it contained many whose allegiance would be more readily given to the Protestant King of Sweden than to the Catholic King of Poland.

The Swedish Armada consisted of 158 vessels carrying 24,000 men, under the Admirals Gildenheim and Heming. With a view to landing against Riga, the Swedish fleet approached the entrance to the River Dwina, when, unexpectedly, a furious storm was encountered, in which many ships were dismasted and damaged while compelled to scatter. The admirals reassembled the fleet as soon as could be, and once more the Armada, undeterred by its ill-omened gambit, proceeded to land the troops in the face of a heavy fire from the fortified island of Dwinamonde, which was supposed to block the fairway and all progress upstream. Historians differ as to whether or not this fortress was ever captured, or if it was ignored, but certain it is that in three days the whole of the 24,000 Swedes were landed, with their siege and battering trains and the heavy equipment.

With the King in chief command were Charles Philip, his brother, and Chancellor Axel Oxenstiern, as well as the veteran Marshal Jaques de la Gardie, and Generals Horn, Banner, Torstenson and Wrangell, with two Scottish soldiers of fortune, Colonels Ruthven and Smeaton, each in command of separate divisions of the army. It was not till August (1621), however, that Gustavus was ready to commence the siege, which opened on the 13th with great vigour, the fortress being completely invested, bombarded, mined and assaulted. The outer works were carried, and a relieving force of Poles 14,000 strong, under Prince Radziwill, was beaten off. Sigismund, himself harassed by an invasion of Turks which was taking place simultaneously, could not take part.

Gustavus, ever present in the trendies, insisted on an order and discipline hitherto unknown, in preparing the assault of the main enceinte, while his Delicarlian troops, recruited from the mining population of that province, pressed galleries under the main works. Several desperate attempts at assaults were repulsed, however, with heavy loss, in which several of the Swedish generals were wounded and the foreign officers greatly distinguished themselves. At last, sensible of the unflagging determination of the adversary, and despairing of succour from Sigismund, the fortress elected to surrender, after a defence of five weeks, on a guarantee of honourable terms. Gustavus then entered Riga on December 16th, proceeding at once to offer thanks at Divine service and sing the Te Deum in the church of St. Peter.

The inhabitants of Riga had little to complain of in their treatment by the conqueror, who, mindful of the many supporters of the Protestant regime in the town, contented himself with breaking up the Jesuit College, whose attitude towards himself and oppressive action towards the Protestant citizens he had always resented. Gustavus then set forth to occupy the friendly Duchy of Courland, whose capital Mittau at once opened its gates, and received a Swedish garrison as protection against the Poles.

From Mittau, Gustavus wrote to Sigismund to ask if he would now see the wisdom of entering again into an armistice, with a peace treaty as its ultimate object. Sigismund, though little inclined for a permanent peace, had his hands full of Turkish troubles, and was glad enough to renew the armistice in view of the unlooked-for success of the Swedish landing in Livonia, while dissembling his real intentions. He stipulated, however, on the evacuation of Courland, which was duly carried out, and the Swedish troops were withdrawn within the frontier of Livonia, the whole of which province now remained in their hands.

Gustavus was thus free by the end of 1621 to return to Sweden, where, however, his rest was saddened by the death early in the following year of his brother Charles Philip, who had remained in Livonia, a loss long mourned both as brother and brother-in-arms.

This brief campaign, its relentless prosecution, its successful termination and, above all, the organised and disciplined system which permeated the young King’s army, was now the talk of Europe, and already were the Catholic leaders fearing, and the Protestant States acclaiming, a leader in the war of religion which had just broken out.

It might well be expected that Sigismund of Poland would now be anxious to enter into a peace, lest worse befall him. But enough had not yet occurred to show the Polish King the folly of his attitude and the hopelessness of defeating so efficient and resourceful an enemy as his young cousin, apart from any feelings that he might be expected to retain for the country of his origin. Further Sigismund had married in succession two of the daughters of Ferdinand II, now in 1621 the chosen Emperor of the Reich, and the latter could not but be sensible that the bigger the obstacle that could be placed in the way of Gustavus advancing into Central Europe the better. He therefore encouraged his son-in-law to let the sore remain unhealed. Mighty Spain, too, deeply involved in European politics, gave the same advice.

Gustavus was not therefore destined to enjoy his leisure for long, but while the second armistice held good he nevertheless threw himself into the work of the administrative and domestic affairs of his kingdom, and with it to watch the leaven of discipline working in his army and militia. The parallel between Gustavus and Napoleon in the flair for law-giving and civic progress has already been drawn, and the military career of the Swede had no more dimmed this gift than it had in the Corsican, and in both cases is it the enduring claim to fame.

Sigismund, somewhat eased of his anxieties in the south, and stimulated by his brother-in-law, as well perhaps by the want of an heir to the Swedish throne, now planned to carry out another invasion across the Baltic, and even proceeded to suborn the free Hanseatic city of Dantzig to provide him with the fleet that Poland lacked and to purchase more ships from German ports. The essential military principle that Gustavus had succeeded in imbibing, without which none of his other martial traits would have served him, was the value of striking promptly and with all one’s might. No sooner was he apprised of what was on foot than he mobilised a strong squadron and appeared before Dantzig, demanding that the borough should accept him once for all as friend or foe. This was too much for the resolution of the free town, and the magistrates abandoned their designs forthwith, though Sigismund, with his Queen and Prince Udislaus, were actually present in the town. The Polish King could then but return to his own capital, where his Estates were assembled, and put before them his requirements for the prosecution once more of the still-suspended war with Sweden. But the Diet was by no means impressed with the wisdom or advantage of this perpetual and unfruitful quarrel with a neighbour, and quite unwilling, in the restricted condition of Polish resources, to provide any more money, the ecclesiastics alone calling for fire and sword against their Protestant neighbour. Dismissing the Diet, Sigismund was obliged to abandon his intentions, and proceeded to the Livonian town of Daler to enter into negotiations to extend the truce with Sweden till 1625. This arrangement, while failing to offer the security of the treaty of amity for which Gustavus had so long worked, gave a prolonged period of rest and development, of which he was not slow to take full advantage. Among his special acts in this interval was to endow the University of Upsala with his own personal estates, inherited from his father, Duke John, thus setting a fashion which many of his nobility followed. Stimulation of commerce had long been his cherished policy, and a chartered company to trade with the West Indies was now formed, while in a different sphere of activity Gustavus found time to send missionaries to miserable and savage Lapland, on the confines of his dominions. During these years of peace and development the whole tone of the country was that of affection for, and confidence in their King and his ministers. Sweden, too, had become a refuge at this period for oppressed Protestants from many countries, who, bringing arts and crafts of which the land had need, as in the case of those who made England their home, became some of her most valued citizens, and they, too, spread the fame of the King far and wide.

It was perhaps too much to expect more than three years of peace in those troubled times, but as the time drew near for the convention of 1622 to expire, negotiations were put in hand to endeavour to come to a permanent understanding. The Polish envoys came to Daler during 1624, and thither also went Axel Oxenstiern. But whatever may have been in Sigismund’s mind when he commenced negotiations, events and influence combined to change them, and the old attitude of hostility was soon aroused. The Catholic princes themselves, as the war in Germany wore on, became more and more anxious as to the attitude of Gustavus, and more and more apprehensive of his rising fortunes. It was obviously Catholic policy to regard Sigismund as the rightful heir to the House of Vasa, and to discourage the idea of a permanent settlement with Gustavus. The attitude of the envoys stiffened, and while Sweden had certain definite conditions which could not be abandoned, the terms presented by Poland hardened, and all chance of agreement vanished. Oxenstiern, scenting a pretext for a renewal of hostilities, broke off negotiations, and both sides prepared for war, Gustavus finding himself with a still more solid Sweden behind him. The organisation of his permanent forces, his admirable schemes for his militia, and his knowledge of how to prepare his military machine, enabled him to take the initiative once more, and by June 1625 he had landed 20,000 men in Livonia via the mouth of the Dwina, after repulsing a Polish attempt on Riga. Thence he advanced into the Duchy of Courland and handsomely defeated, a few months later, near the village of Walhoff, a Polish General who ventured to give him battle. This was the first battle in which Gustavus himself was in tactical command, but history has left us the most meagre details.

The defeat of the Poles, however, was sufficiently decisive for Gustavus to send his envoys, as he had so often done before, to Sigismund to suggest peace. His envoy, unfortunately, was attacked and captured by Cossacks, eventually escaping to the now indignant Oxenstiern. The starting of these negotiations did not mean that the Swedish King was resting on his victory, for he now emphasised the advantage of peace by pushing into Poland himself and capturing the two strongly fortified towns of Posloren and Bierzen, which barred the entrance into the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. The principal constituent of the Swedish Army was well-trained infantry, while the Poles relied largely on light cavalry. The success of the former in these earlier wars confirmed Gustavus in the opinion that foot-soldiers trained in his own method were invincible. His own troops, too, were equipped to keep the field in winter, a proceeding then almost unknown.

At this time occurred an event which promised to confer considerable advantages in the struggle in which Gustavus was to be eventually involved. Bethlem Gabor of Transylvania, whom we have seen in 1618 defying the Reich, married Catherine, the younger sister of Gustavus’ own Queen, daughter of the Elector of Brandenburg. The politics of Bethlem Gabor in his mountains varied between Crescent and Cross, according as it suited him to acknowledge the over-lordship of the Sultan of Turkey or of the Emperor of Germany, but as brother-in-law of Gustavus, for whom he had already imbibed a sincere admiration, he was well placed to be a thorn in the side of Poland.

Every step in the war with Poland was increasing the efficiency of the soldiers of Sweden and the confidence of their master in their prowess, and also marked one more pace on the path of fate which was to lead Gustavus to his destiny.

As soon as the winter of 1625-26 had broken, Gustavus set sail once more for the mainland, with 150 vessels and 25,000 more men, raised from the organised militia based on his regular nucleus. His destination, however, was not, as before, the Dwina and the Livonian frontier, but an entirely fresh theatre of war, judged more likely to conduce to results that would bring Sigismund to a better realisation of his own interests.

Poland was the possessor of a considerable portion of the country of Prussia, of which the remainder belonged to the Elector of Brandenburg. So far back as 1239 this country had been conquered by the Teutonic Knights, and at that period was famous for its ability to turn out large numbers of horsemen. Two and a half centuries later the free cities of Dantzig, Thom and Elbing transferred their allegiance from the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order to Casimir, King of Poland (1489). Sixteen years of war between the Knights and Poland followed, ending in the annexation of several districts to the Polish crown under the designation of Prussia Royal. The remainder of the province, known as Ducal Prussia, remained under the Teutonic Knights, subject to their doing homage to Poland for its possession.

When the Reformation came, the Order of the Teutonic Knights in Ducal Prussia at once joined the Lutheran party, as did those who were in Livonia. According to the terms of the Peace of Augsburg, however, Royal Prussia remained subject to, and therefore compelled to stand by the faith of its Catholic crown. In 1618 Royal Prussia, still Catholic, was bequeathed by the will of the last Duke Frederick Albert to his son-in-law, the Elector of Brandenburg, whose sister married Gustavus Adolphus a couple of years later.

Gustavus in 1626, invading Ducal Prussia, still a fief of Poland, expected, naturally enough, that his brother-inlaw in Royal Prussia would remain neutral, and actually landed his troops at the Elector’s port of Pillau. But the Elector of Brandenburg, who acknowledged Sigismund as his superior in the matter of Royal Prussia, hesitated. The Estates of Ducal Prussia, as a Protestant state, practically accepted Swedish authority without demur, and Gustavus was thus able to occupy the whole of Polish Prussia with little opposition, which was exactly what he had relied on. The only arbitrary acts in which he indulged were the dismissal, as he had done in the case of Riga, of the Jesuits from certain towns, and the confiscation of their library, which he sent to his University at Upsal. As justification of these acts was urged the action of the Catholics in the Palatinate, who had transferred the library of Heidelberg to the Vatican. Gustavus, incensed at his brother-in-law’s attitude, though the Elector’s neglect to strengthen Pillau had also elicited charges of treachery from the Poles, wrote strongly to him : “I am aware that you prefer to keep a middle course, but such a course will break your neck. You must hold on to me or Poland. I am your brother Protestant and have married a Brandenburg princess; my men may be poor Swedish louts, but they can deal you lusty blows, and shall soon be given finer clothing.”

By the beginning of July Gustavus had possession of all the cities and towns in the whole of Polish Ducal Prussia, save only the cities of Dantzig and Dirschau, which still held out. At the commencement of his operations he had sent conditions of immunity to Dantzig, demanding the expulsion of Polish vessels from the port as his principal stipulation, but that city, confident in its strength, had refused.

By July 12th he had crossed the Vistula and stormed Meau, on which Dirschau surrendered. This completely severed Dantzig from any assistance from Sigismund less than a complete victory over the Swedes. To this end, however, Sigismund had assembled his army, which was the flower of mounted Poland, 30,000 Hussars, Cossacks and Pandours fresh from their experience and triumphs on the Turkish frontiers. Gustavus, who was setting his troops to invest Dantzig, turned to meet this vast force of horsemen in the vicinity of Dirschau, with some 20,000 men, of whom 10,000 were German mercenary troops under Count Thum the younger, who had just arrived to join him.

Sigismund had detached a force to recapture the town of Miau, which contained a Swedish garrison, to save which was the first object of Gustavus. Access to Miau was, however, barred by the whole Polish force, which lay between Miau and Dirschau, their right on the Vistula, their left by a thick wood atop a steep cliff. Gustavus sent Thurn to attack the wooded height, while making a detour himself with the object of throwing reinforcements and provisions into Miau. Unfortunately, though Thurn was successful, Gustavus was observed by the Polish cavalry, and a strong force of Polish infantry and guns succeeded in barring his way. Gustavus attacked fiercely, assailed on all sides by large bodies of cavalry, but the staunch Swedish pikemen trained on Gustavus’ model, and led by many Scottish soldiers, enabled him to gain a complete victory and place Miau beyond any danger of surrender. The Poles suffered far more severely than the Swedes, but the fury of Cossack and Pandour had needed all the discipline of the infantry before they could be beaten off. The King himself, always eager to be in the fray, took a most prominent part, twice being surrounded and twice rescued, and while saving a Swedish foot-soldier was for a moment actually a prisoner. Such conduct, however unwise on the part of one on whose safety so much depended, was loudly acclaimed by the soldiery, and still further endeared him to the mass of his army.

This comparatively unimportant action, in which Vladislaus, Sigismund’s son, had commanded the Poles, closed the operations of 1626. As the inexorable northern winter approached, both sides went into their winter quarters, and Gustavus was able to return to Stockholm. As on previous occasions, commissioners from both sides met in the hope of some settlement, but Sigismund, despite the extent of the Swedish successes and the severe handling that a portion of his forces had just undergone, behaved as if he were the conqueror, and suggested terms that the Swedes indignantly spumed.

It has been alleged that at this period Gustavus, in reporting to the Estates the terms on which Sigismund was prepared to enter on a peace, purposely represented them in a most unfavourable light, so that his country might be stiffened in its resolution to continue the war. Deceit of any kind, however, is so foreign to all we know of the character of the Swedish King that it is difficult to credit any such suggestion.

Whatever the cause, the Estates were determined to spurn all humiliating offers, and their troops remained on the ground they had gained and in investment of Dantzig, while the Polish forces withdrew to their own territory. Gustavus’ return was in time for the birth of his first child, who, unfortunately for Swedish hopes, proved to be a daughter. A son had been so fervently hoped for by the King, both for his own and his country’s sake, that the Queen’s entourage were much concerned less the disappointment should derange his temper. But Gustavus, like many fathers in similar circumstances, swallowed his disappointment and rejoiced greatly in the little lass.

So, thanking God for his daughter, and praying for her preservation, Gustavus set about the business of State once more, little conscious of the sad career which was eventually to be her portion, and also set himself to still further improve his army for the struggle which was likely to be renewed. Early in 1627 the Estates met, unanimously repudiated the insulting proposals of Sigismund and, incensed at his undying pretensions to the Swedish throne, fastened the colours of defiance more strongly to the mast by declaring the infant Christina as full heir to the throne in default of male issue, and binding themselves by oath to maintain the succession.

The coming of spring saw this prolonged if intermittent war enter on a fiercer and more deadly stage. We have seen that, sharp as had been the handling of the Polish force at the hands of Swedish pikemen on the banks of the Vistula, and heavy as had been the loss of Prince Vladislaus’ covering force, the resources of Poland were too strong for this action to be decisive. Ere the rejoicings at Stockholm over the birth of the Princess had come to an end, it was necessary to prepare for the military business of the coming spring.

When Sigismund withdrew the bulk of his forces to Warsaw for the winter of 1626-27, left in command of his armies General Koniecpoliski, who had been prominent in the victories over the Turks. Stimulated by his King, he commenced hostilities long before the usual period of winter inactivity had elapsed. He had been joined by a body of Imperialist troops lent by the Emperor, who, though nominally under the Polish flag, still wore the Imperial emblem. Gustavus therefore might well have felt that his envelopment with the mesh of the great war of the religions was now a fait accompli.

The Polish General commenced his activities by falling on the garrison of the small town of Putzig, which was of importance in forming the cordon round Dantzig, and there captured Commandant Nicholas Hom with 400 Swedish regulars after a stout defence. He further succeeded in falling on 8000 German mercenaries approaching to take service with Sweden, and compelling their leader to undertake to abstain from the service of Gustavus for two years.

Gustavus himself, delayed for a while by contrary winds, appeared on the scene, landing at Pillau on May 8th, confident in his own power to handle the situation and to stem the tide of Polish success. He brought to his main army, which he joined at Dirschau, a reinforcement of 6000 new troops, and found that with local enlistment he now had 35,000 men under arms. As a set-off, however, he was annoyed to find that his brother-in-law, the Elector of Brandenburg, had equipped 4000 blue-coat Prussian soldiers to the help of his master, the suzerain of Royal Prussia.

The good Gustavus was not the man to stand so hostile a proceeding from a brother-in-law, whatever his obligation to, and fear of his suzerain might be. The Prussian contingent was entrenched at Pillau, and Gustavus attacked it forthwith, capturing the whole body, which he transferred to his own service, probably with their willing acquiescence, as good Protestants.

The capture of Dantzig, with all its facilities as a base, was the first objective that Gustavus set his army, and while reconnoitring the outer defences himself on the Dantzig Head at the mouth of the Vistula, the King received a bullet wound in the hip.

When first hit Gustavus imagined he had received a mortal wound, and ordered himself to be rowed to the shore, where he composedly awaited his end. His surgeon soon discovered, however, that the bullet had passed obliquely through the muscles, and had not traversed his body, so that it was not many weeks before he was able to rejoin his army, though some valuable time had been lost.

The quality of personal daring that endeared Gustavus to his soldiery—and indeed it was a reckless disregard of safety-—was a matter of serious concern to his own Ministry. He was, however, deaf to all expostulation, and the argument that there was no one to carry on for no Sweden as his successor, however commanding it might be, fell on unheeding ears.

On the very morning of the day that he was wounded Gustavus had barely escaped from a Polish patrol which had sprung on him while reconnoitring far in front of his escort, and a few weeks earlier he had been very near death in a cavalry skirmish. Oxenstiern himself had endeavoured to remonstrate with him after this occurrence, but the King had replied, “What better fate than to die doing my duty as a king, in which place Heaven has pleased to place me?”, and when young men talk like that it is hard to bring wiser counsels before them. The anxiety and danger were perhaps compensated for by the enthusiasm for the King that the exaggerated stories of his personal prowess evoked, so that he became a myth wherever warriors congregated.

While Gustavus was recovering from his wound Sigismund’s troops were pressing De la Gardie in Livonia, and Commandant Horn was sent to his assistance. In Prussia Koniecpoliski advanced to within six miles of Dantzig. Gustavus was now sufficiently recovered to take horse again, and entirely uncured by his first wound of his rashness, led a body of cavalry in a reconnaissance of the Polish position. Driving the enemy’s cavalry through the village of Rokitken, in a country of broken hills and ravines, he found the Polish infantry drawn up to support them. Gustavus, ordering up his guns, galloped to a hill-top to reconnoitre. Here again his forwardness, so admirable in a regimental or staff officer, brought its punishment, for again he was hit by a musket-ball in the shoulder near the neck. This mishap caused the Swedes to withdraw. The King again imagined that he had received a mortal hurt, for the bullet was deep in the wound and could not be extracted. With the scanty surgical knowledge and the absence of antiseptics of those days, the wound was a dangerous business, and actually kept him from the field for three months. During this period the principal military work in hand was the prosecution of the siege of Dantzig, to secure the port of entry. With Gustavus in bed, however, it made no great progress, and it was the stout burghers rather than the besiegers who carried off such honours as there were.

As soon as he had recovered, matters speeded up, and he captured Pautzke a second time, thus severing the city from access from Germany, while from the sea Admiral Steruskjold maintained a strict blockade. The defenders, however, were not prepared to accept the blockade as their last word at sea, and under their Admiral Dickman, a Dane, a nondescript fleet sallied forth to enjoy a somewhat Pyrrhic victory. Both Admirals fell, and a Swedish ship, some say that flying the Admiral’s flag, blew up, rather than surrender to the Dantziger.

It was an adverse ending to a year that had brought but bad fortune to the Swedes, but the Dantzig Navy had lost 500 of its best sailors, and Gustavus, bringing up a stronger fleet, pressed both blockade and siege more closely, capturing all the outlying townships; but with these captures, however, the campaigning season drew to a close. The Poles had little to show, after their earlier successes, for the arrival of Sigismund in camp had effectively paralysed the initiative of Koniecpoliski. Nothing was done even when Gustavus’ wound was the signal for relaxation of Swedish energy, and when an attempt to raise the siege would have tried the King on his sick-bed sorely. Thus it was that the war dragged somewhat wearily into December 1627, and Gustavus returned to Stockholm.

The value of a fleet in being had long been recognised by Gustavus, who aimed at the naval hegemony of the Baltic as well as the possession of its littorals, and was well aware that with the Dantzig navy triumphant he was not likely to see the inside of the Dantzig enceinte. During the winter of 1627-28 the persistent King refitted his navy and added still further to its strength, in readiness for the spring. As soon as the year had turned, back went Gustavus, escorted by thirty of his new ships of war. Seven Dantzig vessels, greatly daring, endeavoured to oppose his entry into the Vistula, merely to be driven off the sea after a stout contest, losing four of their number captured and one sunk, while the battered remnant staggered back whence they had come.

The Vistula reopened, Gustavus landed his military reinforcements and prepared to enter the lesser Werde, the island between the two main branches of the river.

The Swedish army was reinforced at this juncture by the arrival of a considerable accession of Scottish soldiers of fortune and German mercenaries to the number of 9000, which enabled the King to press the siege with renewed vigour. But before the siege could progress much further it was necessary to dispose of Koniecpoliski once more. The Polish armies had also received their spring reinforcement, and, disencumbered of Sigismund, were in duty bound to make another attempt to succour their ally, the free city. This attempt they made without delay, recapturing some of the outlying townships and actually coming within sight of the walls of the beleaguered city. A body of Swedish cavalry under Count Todt, detailed to watch the Polish advance, fell into an ambush and was severely handled, though eventually emerging with credit. Gustavus, now fully informed of the exact Polish dispositions, brought his disciplined troops across the river and on to the Polish flank, achieving a sweeping victory, in which the enemy were driven headlong from the field, where they left 3000 dead, forfeiting fourteen standards and four cannons.

It was now the turn of the Polish commander to suffer for his forward position, and Koniecpoliski was so severely wounded that he was believed to have been killed.

With this complete victory over the Polish relieving army, Gustavus was free- to press the actual siege once more with full vigour. The defeat of Koniecpoliski appeared to deprive the city of all hope of relief, and it seriously considered the question of surrender, while Sigismund was faced with the growing distaste of the Polish Estates for the continuance of the war.

But the race is not always to the swift, nor was Dantzig yet to fall, for sudden floods on the Vistula drove the Swedes from their trenches and compelled Gustavus to withdraw his troops to dry ground, and enabled Sigismund to harden his heart once again.

Thus baffled before Dantzig, Gustavus, realising that he could not hope to capture the city before the return of winter, suddenly turned east and marched into Livonia, capturing town after town, and pushing his light cavalry to the very gates of Warsaw itself. The Polish commander was powerless to intercept this incursion in so unexpected a quarter, and could but move his mounted troops to hang on the flank of the Swedes. But Gustavus had just been joined by one of the most distinguished cavalry officers of the day, the Rhinegrave Otto Louis, with 2000 Cuirassiers, and was quite able to cover himself from any serious inconvenience to his new operations. At the storming of Massoria, a number of women, including many Polish ladies of quality, fell into the hands of the Swedish troops at a time when hardship and strained discipline made them little inclined to treat them with respect. Fortunately, Gustavus himself arrived on the scene in time to intervene for their protection, forcibly reminding all ranks that soldiery and ravishment were not synonymous or even connected words. The rescue of the women from a treatment only too often accorded in these days still further added to the reputation of the leader and his troops for decorum and humanity.

The Polish cavalry, though held at bay at most points on the Swedish flank, were able to surprise the division under Bauditzen, which was totally routed, with the loss of its commander. Gustavus’ communication with Ebling was cut by this mishap, and it was necessary to set a strong force in motion before the interrupted line could be restored.

With these operations in the Duchy of Lithuania the season of 1628 came to a close, but not before the Imperial designs on the Baltic and happenings at Stralsund brought Gustavus Adolphus into contact with the Emperor of Austria, and in fact made him face at last the assumption of the long-deferred role of leader of the Protestant nations, pressed on him on so many previous occasions.

Stralsund—The Successes of the Emperor and the Peace of Lubeck —The End of the Polish War (1629)—The Compelling of the Protestant States—The Situation after the Polish Peace— The Gustavus of 1630—The Perfected Swedish Army—The Imperial Leaders.

THE incident of Stralsund has been referred to as bringing Gustavus for the first time openly across the path of the Austrian Empire and the Imperial ambitions, the successes of the Imperial armies having brought them to the Baltic and incidentally into clash with the pet ambition of Gustavus to control that sea, as Dominus Maris Baltici. Wallenstein, in demanding shipping from the Free Cities to continue his pressure on Denmark, had sent to all a request that they should confine their trade to Spain. The Hanse towns replied that they had treaties all round, and could do nothing of the sort. By now he had obtained a patent as High Admiral of the Baltic, and, as related, called for Spanish ships from Dunkirk, and succeeded in occupying most of the coast towns. Stralsund, however, on the mainland opposite the island of Ruegen, admirably situated from which to press operations against Denmark or to threaten Sweden, had not yet opened its gates to the Imperial troops. Wallenstein had now been invested with the Duchy of Mecklenburg, and as Stralsund lay close thereto, he determined to secure the place by fair means or foul, and to that end poured troops into Western Pomerania. He also demanded of the town a contribution of £25,000 to the Imperial coffers. King Christian, still in the field, was well aware of the threat that an Imperial Stralsund would be to Denmark, and threw Lord Reay’s Scottish 'regiment into the town. Wallenstein commenced by asking for winter quarters for a portion of his forces. This the town refused.

Gustavus had long recognised that Stralsund was the best sea-base for operations in Germany, and when the Stralsunders sent to ask the Dantzigers for help, he took upon himself to send, in the spring of 1628, military supplies, another Scots regiment and a naval adviser, he also entered into an agreement with Christian to be responsible henceforward for the protection of the town. Wallenstein, now furious, sent Amheim to besiege it, but it had a stout garrison of old soldiers, 600 Danes and 600 Swedes, and a very sturdy contingent of burgher guards. Amheim took the island of Danholm, which commanded the harbour, but the Stralsunders drove him out. In May Gustavus landed a heavy cargo of powder. Wallenstein himself arrived and ordered a storm, but fared no better, and was long held at bay, even as Gustavus himself was held by Dantzig. During July more Danish and Swedish assistance arrived, and by the end of the month he retired baffled, after losing 12,000 of his men, finding, as others had done before and since, that a well- held sea-port with access to the unwatched sea took a great deal of capturing.

By the end of 1628, except for indomitable Stralsund, Germany lay at the feet of the German Emperor. The absolutist designs of Ferdinand, Grand Duke of Austria and Emperor of Germany, were now undisguised. He was the elected Emperor according to ancient custom, elected, as had been usual for some time, from among one of the scions of the house of Hapsburg. It has been explained how the Imperial crown, nominally open to any Elector, had formerly run not necessarily in a certain dynasty, but by tacit consent within the limits of certain families and houses. Ferdinand had long wanted to make himself hereditary Emperor of the whole of Germany and to call it all Austria, and he had before him a great role. The war had hitherto, from many points of view, been one of politics, in which rival aspirations and jealousies held the field, as the Electress Palatine always declared, rather than the religious question. Ferdinand had asserted his authority throughout the Reich. He might now appear as the saviour and protector of Germany, as bound by his office to be, and might perhaps have led the whole of the stricken land to a happy future, in which each man might worship God as he pleased. But alas! Ferdinand was a bitter fanatical Catholic, and, with the Jesuits at his side, was burning to repress the reformed faith and to stamp it out with every ruthless agency that his power conferred on him. The first step to be taken in 1628-29 was to get rid of Christian of Denmark, still a potential if emasculated enemy. He must undertake to recede from his position as the nominal leader of the Protestant states, and Tilly and Wallenstein had reduced him to the frame of mind necessary for the abandonment of that role. A Congress was convened at Lubeck in the early autumn of the year, to which came influential ministers and representatives of the Emperor and Christian. Gustavus could hardly allow a peace conference on matters in which he was now intimately concerned to go on so near, without an attempt to be represented thereat, and he sent to King Christian to ask him to introduce Swedish envoys with a view to presenting the affairs of Stralsund and of his friend and relative, the Duke of Mecklenburg. Christian, afraid of the Emperor, referred him to Vienna, and the Emperor contemptuously ordered that the Swedish envoys should not enter Germany. To retaliate on Sweden’s despatch of men and stores for the defence of Stralsund, Wallenstein had already sent Arnheim to the support of Sigismund.

Gustavus, intensely annoyed at this insult and the general contemptuous tone in which his actions were referred to, could but for the moment set himself to achieve the immediate task of finishing with the Poles. The conference at Lubeck dragged on till May 1629, when Christian and the Emperor concluded the arrangement known as the Peace of Lubeck, which might have been a peace of Germany, but was only the signal lashing of a beaten people.

By it the territories of Jutland, Schleswig and Holstein were handed back to Christian, and the latter retired from contest with the Emperor, ignoring the terms of his agreement with Gustavus, which had induced the latter to come to the help of Stralsund, and abandoning the unfortunate Frederick V. With the Peace signed, Wallenstein was free to send Arnheim off to assist Sigismund against the “Snow King,” and the Emperor started the attempts to eradicate the Protestant faith which were to re-kindle the war in a far more genuine “War of Religion” than the earlier phases of the struggle could claim to be.

Before turning to the gathering gloom which the later twenties of the seventeenth century had cast over the Protestant cause, it is necessary to follow the incidents which freed Gustavus finally from the Polish incubus and enabled him and his now-fervent Swedes to embrace wholeheartedly the cause which they had always at heart. The episode of Stralsund had taken place before the contending armies in Lithuania had gone into their winter quarters. When this had occurred Gustavus returned to his capital, where he had much food for thought, both in his clash with the Emperor and in the immediate necessity for dealing with Sigismund. Before his return in the early spring of 1629, General Wrangel had fallen on the Poles, who had come into the field again, at the village of Gorsof, and had administered a defeat that was sufficiently severe to bring the Polish peace emissaries forth once more. As usual, however, the proposals soon vanished away from the field of practical politics, chiefly in this case from the influence on Sigismund of the Emperor, who, now that it seemed certain that he would have Sweden on the side of the Protestant League, was anxious to keep open the sore in the flank of the Swedes. To reinforce Poland, Wallenstein, as just related, had sent a body of troops, under Count Arnheim, as a reprisal for Gustavus’ help to Stralsund, and Sigismund at once put his conditions higher than the Swedes could agree to, so that the negotiations came to nought.

Arnheim and his Germans reached the Poles about the same time as Gustavus rejoined his army in the spring of 1629. Both commanders commenced to manoeuvre for position, and, as so often happens, when the actual contact came it came by chance. The Rhinegrave Otto Lewis with the Swedish cavalry had pushed on to secure the defiles of Stumm, but not to bring on a battle. Finding his objective already in the enemy’s hand, he attacked, falling on a division of Croats and other light horse, and driving them before him. But his ardour took him too far, and a large force of Poles was able to cut in on his flank, capturing five of his standards and many of his men.

This flank attack compelled the Rhinegrave to precipitate flight, and Gustavus, hurrying to his support, could only extricate him by fighting a general engagement, and a general engagement of the very fiercest kind it proved to be—the swan-song of the Poles. Both armies had now been in the field for years, and on both sides were troops and leaders, both national and mercenary, of the highest courage. The battle was fought amid low sandhills, intersected by hedges—something like the battlefields of Gaza in the war of 1914—that prevented much practical movement, and it soon became a typical soldiers’ battle, in which each corps and even each company fought out its bitter struggle unaided.

To the King of Sweden such an occasion was after his own heart, and we have already seen how eagerly he got into a melee and how anxiously his ministers and staff endeavoured to keep him at a general’s proper place— his command centre.

Here he could disregard counsels of prudence and the remonstrances of his entourage, with less impropriety than usual, and heartily he availed himself of the occasion. The qualities that so endeared the King to his soldiery had full scope—hell for leather, ride straight who may, hit hard who can 1 The King was in the thick of it amid the dust and riot of the sandhills. Where the pikemen yielded there was the King’s voice heard and his figure seen, rallying the line that bellied and swayed as a curtain in the wind, or broke as a wall breaks to a flood. Five musket-balls struck his armour. Twice, in his incitement to prowess, was he nearly captured, once escaping only by slipping his scarf, which a lans-genecht had seized, over his neck, and once one of his own officers shot dead a Polish dragoon who was demanding the King’s surrender with a pistol to his head. Hammer and tongs, halbert on pike, sword on morion, and the “Snow King” cheering, and like to melt in the thick of it! Such was the part a leader might sometimes play in the days of yore, rather than in a dug-out with his telephones around him.

Long was the day of slaughter, weary the nightfall, and the Poles at last were stayed, having had some of the best of their Imperial regiments destroyed, with a loss of five standards and seventeen colours. Gustavus had no wish to remain within immediate reach of the Polish, let alone the Imperial troops, and drew back in the night, having also lost a number of his own standards, a convincing proof of the close and fluctuating nature of the battle.

The Imperial commander, Amheim, into whose hands the leathered hat and scarf of Gustavus had fallen, magnified therewith the account of the fight to the Emperor, and the two commanders decided to beat up the Swedish position. But Gustavus had withdrawn, eventually reaching Marienburg, and the Polish forces fell back to Marienverder. Here arrived Sigismund himself to give rein to his gift for interference, ordering an attack on the Swedish camp at Marienburg, in the belief that this would not yet be in a defensive state. But his years in the field had taught Gustavus to take no risks by inertia or neglect, and he was perfectly prepared to fight again where he found himself, having had eight days to improve his defences. With a morass on one flank and a small river on the other, his fortified entrenchments had done the rest. Sigismund, however, now persisted in a series of costly attacks, by which he added a still further loss of 4000 men to the heavy toll that the fighting in the Stumm defile had cost him. The Polish and Imperial forces now withdrew to lick their wounds and endeavour to entice Gustavus into the open. This the King had no intention of allowing, though he had some spirited fighting with the French Imperialist officer Sirot, a leader to whom the King had more than once offered service. Amheim in disgust went off to attempt the capture of Neuberg on the Vistula, and Gustavus revictualled himself and his outposts at his pleasure.

The severe fight in the defile and after, however little a tactical victory, however much a drawn battle, had amply achieved its end. It and his repulse at Marienburg put King Sigismund in a better frame of mind for abandoning his claims on Sweden and making peace than he had yet evinced. He realised from his accumulated experience how the power of Sweden and the skill of its commander were yearly increasing, and also how comparatively small was the help he could expect from the Emperor, and, to clinch matters, his people were more and more discontented with a war that brought nothing but losses. Indeed, his whole land clamoured against the folly of the continued war of attrition, and a revolt was likely to ensue if he insisted on its continuance. The arrival of an ambassador from Cardinal Richelieu, who had also sent a confidential agent to Gustavus to whisper his policy in his ear, found both sides in the mood to hear reason. Among the many moves which the astute Cardinal had on hand to protect France from the Hapsburg menace was to detach the Elector of Bavaria from the Imperial cause, hinting that he would eventually be voted Emperor. Maximilian of Bavaria listened a while, and did nothing, but these movements all had their place in stimulating the desire of Gustavus to be quit of Poland and to stand by for a share in the greater game.

To the negotiations, in addition to de Charnace, the French Ambassador, came also Sir Thomas Roe, formerly Minister at Constantinople, from Charles I of England, who, out of his own embarrassments, still endeavoured to take some share in the affairs of Europe. Gustavus, on whom Charles I had conferred the Garter, had an admiration for the King of. England that induced him to listen to Sir Thomas. De Charnace’s presentation of Richelieu’s views and advice was masterly enough, while the side influences were many and subtle. From all the lobbying and chambering came a peace with Poland for six years, which, as it proved, was to last many years longer, and thus in August 1629 the long war came to an end.

But, however much diplomatists might whisper and bargain, all the military world knew that it was the heavy handling of Poles and Imperialists at the hands of the sturdy Swedes and their Scots, inspired by their King and his broad-sword in the defiles of Stumm, which had produced the atmosphere necessary to successful negotiation.

The stars in their courses were undoubtedly working towards a state of affairs when the arrival of Gustavus on the scene would be welcomed by all, however much for the moment they might prefer immediate peace to any cause. The Emperor Ferdinand may have truly believed that by the Catholic faith alone could man live and die happily or be allowed to exist at all, or he may have felt that he must gain the entire support of the Catholic clergy and partisans to achieve his hereditary throne. His acts, whatever their origin, pointed to the complete extirpation of Protestantism. He commenced his experiments on his own hereditary dominions by enacting that every Protestant should abjure or leave his dominions. Now even Austria itself had one-sixth of its population members of the reformed faiths, and Bohemia, Moravia, Stiria, Carinthia and Carnolia a still larger proportion. In Bohemia the edict prompted a peasant rebellion, which was, however, thwarted.

But as if to wipe away all the results of his prosperous campaigns, which had now lasted twelve years, Ferdinand was ill-advised enough to endeavour to upset the Peace of Augsburg by publishing the notorious “Edict of Restitution.” By its provisions all property, principalities, etc., which had been acquired in the Protestant States since that peace were to be handed to ecclesiastical commissioners, to be given back by them to the Church of Rome. The whole of Northern Germany was aghast, and the two Protestant Electors who had steadily supported Ferdinand, the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, protested forcibly, while even the Duke of Bavaria could not but add his objections, in spite of the fact that he headed the League which supported Ferdinand. Verily the ground was being well prepared for Gustavus. When this edict appeared in March 1629, the German princes, who, for the sake of peace, had been ready to seek prosperity for their peoples under the Empire, were thoroughly disturbed. To make matters worse, the Emperor put duress on several of his Electors over minor matters.

Nevertheless, when the peace between Poland and Sweden was concluded in August 1629, and Gustavus sat down to take stock of the situation, it cannot be said that it held much of immediate encouragement. None of the Powers of Europe was inclined to rescue Germany from the grip of the Emperor. England was now busy with her own internal troubles. The Netherlands were still at war with Spain, and had no wish to add Tilly and Wallenstein to their troubles. Spain, Hapsburg herself, had her war with the Dutch, and had trouble in Italy over Mantua. The Turks were an unreliable factor, Brandenburg had a grievance against Gustavus and had sent troops to Poland, Saxony was bound, so far as could then be seen, to the Emperor, and Denmark had just been hammered back into her shell.

The only promising factor in the Protestant outlook was the new foreign policy of France, called into sensitiveness by the absolutism at which Ferdinand was aiming, and Cardinal Richelieu’s fear of the Hapsburg encirclement in which France seemed to be finding herself. But Catholic France could not openly espouse, at this stage at any rate, a depressed Protestant cause. In the negotiations which preceded the Polish Peace the share that was worth his while taking had been pretty clearly put before him, and Gustavus went home for the winter of 1629-30 with the views and limits of the Cardinal’s policy as clearly before him as that astute statesman was likely to reveal, and could weigh in his mind the many factors that bore on the situation. Perhaps what was at this time the deciding factor was the safety of Sweden. Gustavus and his country were deep in the Emperor’s black books, and it seemed to him that if he could carry on the war himself, he would at any rate keep the theatre of hostilities removed from Sweden.

And we must imagine the King during this winter of counsel and preparation turning over every matter, and as soon as his mind was made up setting grimly to work to get his preparations and equipments well advanced.

It will now be profitable to take stock of the Gustavus of 1630, whom we have seen developing himself in the stern school of war and diplomacy for close on twenty eventful years. We have seen the eager young man of military bent starting, while in his teens, to bring to terms the hereditary enemy of his family, Christian of Denmark, and gradually gaining the affection and admiration of his people. We have seen him full of boyish passion for a lady of his Court, writing grave love-letters as a man might to one with whom he must share a serious responsibility, and we have seen him lose the attractive picture of Ebba von Brahe from his heart, either at the stern bidding of duty, or through waning of calf-love amid scenes of war and responsibility. We have seen him later search Europe for a wife and go to see her first for himself, and settle down to the placid affections of a marriage as understood by the Nordic races. We have seen him planning armies and all that appertains to armies, and thinking of an army orderly, pious and disciplined, such as the world had not thought of for many a long day. We have seen him constantly victorious, while not only coming himself to tactical command, but also enjoying to the full the fierce glamour of warfare, and dipping deep into the cup of danger for its own sake, the idol of his own troops and the subject of interest and eulogy wherever the professional soldier congregated to talk of war and warriors. But what of the mature man of thirty-six who was now about to be launched into a struggle from which the stoutest might well have turned ?

We know him to be a tall man, burlied as the years rolled on, requiring a stout horse to mount him, yet active and proficient in the use of personal arms. We find him wise in the council chamber, and stem to do good works, always thinking of his people and planning for his army. We find him to be a good trencherman, after the fashion of his race, yet temperate withal and sober in his life, happy enough in his own domestic circle, and not inclined to roam after the beauty that surrounded his Court. But all the qualities which these traits denote produced a fault that was at times marked enough— it was the fault of the strong, confident man who knows his own capacity and has had as much rein thereto as is good for a man. He was becoming exceedingly impatient of interference and remonstrance, though, if not disturbed, ready enough to seek, if not to take, advice. Anything savouring of a want of recognition of his position in the world not unreasonably exasperated him, and we need not be surprised to learn that his contemptuous treatment at the hands of Wallenstein and the Emperor over the matter of the Peace of Lubeck rankled deeply. From this picture we must imagine a commander better equipped for his role than is often seen on such stages, and making, as, indeed, his portrait in the half armour of the period denotes, as proper a figure as our fancy could well demand for one who bears the style of “The Lion of the North and the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith.”

The growing army of Sweden and the system that Gustavus was developing have already been described, but that army had now been through the prolonged fighting of the Polish wars, and there had been leisure each winter for him to perfect and re-examine the details by the light of his experience. It will not therefore be a waste of time to see it as it finally stood, the model to which, in view of its phenomenal performances, the many foreign regiments enlisted for his service were also to conform, not only in equipment and tactics, but also in moral discipline, strict conduct and a regime of evangelical piety. Scots, Germans, Danes, Dutch, Pomeranians all conformed thereto, many from inward conviction, and all because it was the condition of service. It has already been explained how the Union of England and Scotland had sent many a Scots soldier to seek a military career outside the British Isles, and the number of Scottish regiments in the Swedish Army was growing constantly, and in due course many English came too. Large numbers of low and high degree from both Lowlands and Highlands served, and many brought with them the covenanting spirit. Among the well-known leaders were Sir James Ramsay the Black, Sir Alexander Leslie, Sir John Hepburn, Lord Reay, Donald Mackay and Monro of Fowfis, and many another, including Colonel Robert Monro, whose book (“Monro’s Expedition ”) gives a long list of Scottish officers in the Swedish service. He gives the names of thirty-two colonels, fifty-two lieutenant-colonels and fourteen majors who were serving in 1632. From the letters of these officers, many of which were reproduced in the “British Intelligencer,” edited, it is said, by Sir Thomas Roe, we get many details of the campaigns of Gustavus in Germany. It was always said that it was from Colonel Robert Monro that Sir Walter Scott drew his famous Dugald Dalgetty of Drumthwacket but adding to Rittmaster Dalgetty the pedantry with which the professional soldier of lesser outlook can still surround himself recognised for all time as a type known of armies, in the ken of all soldiers. But also the character of the Rittmaster portrays the sturdiness for which the Scottish soldier on the Continent was so famous, as well as indicating how the predatory instinct of the free-lance girded at times against the strict Gustavian discipline.

Indeed, by the spring of 1630 that discipline and regimental system, combined with the care for the welfare of the rank and file already described, was at its zenith, and the army stood four square in all its disciplined Puritanism. The Swedish Army took pride of place by five main characteristics :

Public worship by high and low being the practice of the reformed faith as an act of personal devotion, Gustavus had no great difficulty in introducing it as a daily feature in his army. Each morning, by tuck of drum, every corps would form a ring round the regimental chaplain. Prayers were read and a Psalm was chanted, followed by the discourse dear to the reformed minister.

When the wives and children of the troops, who, after the fashion of the day, accompanied armies, were in camp, the children after prayers would attend the regimental school. At sunset, in true Evangelical style, like the old Covenanters in Scotland, the drum would again summon the troops to evening prayer before the second watchsetting. More and more as he found himself leading his armies into Germany, and saw the horrors, the lust and the licence which disgraced the Imperial troops, did Gustavus inculcate and enforce with no light hand humanity and restraint. The Swedish Articles of War forbade profanity and blasphemy, and gambling was strictly prohibited, while his crusade against duelling had long borne fruit, as already described. The horde of loose women that followed the Imperial armies had no counterpart with Gustavus; the peasantry, and especially the women, suffered no outrage when the armies of Sweden passed, and the King required certificates from occupied towns that no licence had been taken in them by the billetted garrison. The ribaldry and licence which so often marred the appearance and moral of the troops were entirely absent even from the youngest corps, and the Swedish troops now appeared in something very like a definite uniform. The habits of the officers of the age of covering themselves with gaudy and costly scarves and baldricks, and of affecting a rake-helly cavalier appearance, was also rigidly repressed. Thus it came about that all ranks had long taken pride in their soldierly and simple appearance, and had realised, too, the effect it produced on their opponents. And it was thus disciplined, ordered and apparelled, that the Swedish Army and its auxiliaries landed in a Germany devastated and sick to death through the scandalous behaviour of the armies of Tilly and Wallenstein.

We may now turn to the consideration of those to whom the perfected army and its system were to be opposed. The two outstanding leaders of the Imperial forces in the earlier phases of the Thirty Years War are Count Tilly and Baron Wallenstein, though the latter disappeared from the stage just as Gustavus entered it. They held the field together for a number of years, and between them brought about that series of blows which bereft Christian of Denmark of his constituents and drove him off the field, by military action, added to the effect of the inferiority complex. It is to be remembered that they held very different positions, Tilly being the Commander-in-Chief of the allied forces of the states composing the Catholic League, while Wallenstein was the chief of the forces that owed direct allegiance to the Emperor in his capacity of ruler of Austria and other Hapsburg adjuncts, and also the Imperial Generalissimo. In 1631 he was succeeded in that office by Count Tilly.

At the commencement of the long war, Tzerclas de Tilly, a Walloon by birth, commanded the army of Bavaria alone, but accompanying Maximilian, was so successful that he became Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the League. His almost invariable success in battle, save for an occasion in the Palatinate when Count Mansfield had pulled some feathers from his tail, had gained him a reputation for invincibility which held good till he found himself up against Gustavus, even as was the case with Napoleon and Wellington. His own troops were in the habit of comparing their leader to Carthaginian Hannibal, by reason of his vigour in action and his subtlety in design, while his tactical fame was equal to that of his strategical capacity.

He had many of the attributes of the successful campaigner, by reason of his ascetic habits and want of regard for any personal interests, and was esteemed a brave man and warm ally. His personal appearance was somewhat forbidding, and he had the pale, worn appearance usually connected with asceticism, wan of complexion, hollow of cheek, with wild and piercing eyes. His military costume followed the Spanish custom—a green doublet, a small hat with a long red feather, such as is often seen in the pictures of the period. It was said that his appearance closely resembled that of the atrocious Duke of Alba, and that he modelled himself, both in his outward appearance and in his cruel and relentless persecution of Protestants, on that grandee of evil memory. Tilly had been educated by the Jesuits, which was said to be responsible for a cool, grave and distant manner, to which he added a temperament unperturbed by any untoward happening. His outward regard for the religion of the Empire was characterised by the greatest reverence. Apparently passionless himself, he had attained, by his gifts and character, complete ascendancy over the passions of others. Indeed, if we look upon the restoration of the old form of faith as an object of which the attainment was worth tearing the life and humanities of a whole contingent to pieces for thirty years, then no more suitable partisan leader than Count Tilly can well be imagined.

Of very different type, but of equal importance, though destined for a while to be eclipsed in the period we are now entering, was Baron Albert Wallenstein, created Duke of Friedland for his services against Christian of Denmark. Born of a good Czech family in Bohemia, and brought up a Protestant, escape, it is said, from a dangerous accident induced him to embrace the older form of the Christian Obedience. Much travelled in his youth, he completed his education at the University of Padua, and became a keen student and devout adherent of the pseudo-science of astrology, in which he continued to be interested all his life. During the first outbreak of the trouble preceding the terrible war in Bohemia he attached himself not to the national, but to the Imperial cause, and shortly after the Battle of Prague attracted attention by defeating, at the head of a small body of horse, 6000 Hungarians who had invaded Moravia. Twice married to ladies of wealth and influence, he added the prestige of large possessions to his military attainments, qualified as he now was to appear among the grandees of the Imperial Court.

His inclination for display and flair for impressing those with whom he came in contact enabled him to make full use of his wealth. It is said that his table never carried less than a hundred covers, and his personal staff was drawn from the cadets of the highest families, while sixty pages were always under training in his household. A personal guard, as in the case of Royalty, was always mounted on his own residence and chamber, and his castles were guarded like royal residences. His palace at Prague was appointed with Eastern magnificence, and his personal transport train numbered 100 wagons and sixty coaches. Imperious by nature, and born to rule, with an affectation of authority, he exacted the promptest obedience. Liberal to those who served him, he was ruthless in punishment, “Hand me yon brute ” was his sentence of condemnation, and such sentence would be carried out on the spot by the provost-marshal in attendance. He also, like Gustavus, aimed at restraining the extravagance of attire affected by his officers, and had he chosen, like the former, to command a disciplined and orderly army, he was well qualified to compel it, and thus to have minimised the enduring horror which still clings to the memory of the Imperial forces in the War of Thirty Years. During the Danish period, when Christian endeavoured to lead the Protestant armies against the Emperor, it was Wallenstein as Generalissimo of the Empire who brought that movement to disaster, but his failure to order his troops brought on his head the eclipse referred to. How Wallenstein, after suffering complete eclipse for some years so far as his military career was concerned, remained immersed in his mystical studies, and then once again was induced to become Imperial Generalissimo when Gustavus' triumphs were at their greatest, will be related in due course.

Third in fame among the Imperial leaders, a brave, active and dashing leader of horse and commander of troops, was Count Pappenheim, especially renowned for his chivalrous bravery and his reckless courage. Of noble descent, he was born to the hereditary distinction of Grand Marshal of the Empire, and from earliest days was worthy of it. From the very commencement of the Thirty Years War, he attracted attention by his enthusiasm for the cause of the Emperor. Gustavus was in the habit of finding names for his opponents, and while always referring to Count Tilly as the “corporal” and Wallenstein as “the madman,” Pappenheim was always known to him as “the soldier.” Daring in conception, with promptness in execution, he had a gift of realising what steps were essential at any given stage of the war. But unfortunately for his fair fame, he was tainted, as were most of the Imperial leaders, with a disregard of human life and want of any sense of ruth, not only to his opponents, but also towards the unfortunate inhabitants of the lands in which he was operating. It indeed is among the worst of the charges which the Church of Rome has incurred that she failed to inculcate any feelings of mercy among her partisans.

Among the lesser stars, many of them soldiers of great experience and some brilliance as leaders, were Torquati Cnoti, a ruthless Italian, who commanded the Imperial troops in Pomerania when Gustavus first landed in Germany, Annibal Count Schaumberg, who succeeded him; the Duke of Savelli, the commander in Mecklenburg andon the Tollence; Count Arnheim, whom Wallenstein sent to assist the Poles against Gustavus, but who later on was the principal leader of the Protestant Army of Saxony; the Count of Monteculi, afterwards famous as the opponent of Turenne, and many another.

The Winter of Preparation—The Diet of Ratisbon—Gustavus takes leave of Sweden—The Disposition of the Catholic Annies—The Landing in Pomerania—The Protestant Estates —The Clearing of the Duchies—The Winter of 1630.

DURING the negotiations that preceded the peace with Poland, the French and British envoys, as we have seen, had been very insistent in urging on Gustavus the necessity and the wisdom of an attack on the Empire, and had been lavish in their promises of financial assistance. It was no doubt at this period that Gustavus practically decided on the course he would follow. He was always most earnest in disclaiming the least trace of personal or military ambition in his outlook, and after his death Oxenstiern was most emphatic in asserting that the control of the Baltic and of the coasts adjacent, and perhaps a Scandinavian crown, was the limit of his personal aspirations. The suggestion for which his detractors are responsible, that he coveted the Imperial Crown, has been scouted by his historians and biographers, and it is always to be remembered that on four previous occasions he had been invited, and at times implored, by the Protestant States to take their leadership. It had always been the habit of the King to confide fully in his Estates and to solicit their support, and this had always been accorded him far more freely than to any of his predecessors. In the present juncture he first called on his immediate advisers to criticise his plans of campaign, and Oxenstiern’s doubts as to his capacity to bear the burden, and surprise at the extent of his plans, were at first hard to overcome. He was now, however, urged by his own people with no uncertain voice to undertake the campaign and to throw the dice with lightness of heart, but the kingdom of Sweden itself, however enthusiastic for war, was neither populous nor rich. A million and a half souls was a small people to bear the brunt of the forces of Germany and Austria. The annual revenue did not exceed 12,000,000 rixdallers, and an army in the field of any size could not be subsisted therefrom, especially an army of which foreign enlistment must form a large part. So it was not till the amount of financial support was definite that Gustavus tried to break off his relations with the Emperor. When he did, it was to set to work in the most comprehensive way to prepare for the struggle, and he proceeded also to put himself right with the world, as also to assure himself as best he might of the support of the Protestant States.

He first sent an ambassador to Christian of Denmark to make sure of that sovereign’s at least tacit support. To Copenhagen, therefore, came Theodore Count Falkenburg, to whom Christian gave definite assurance of goodwill and offered his services as mediator before hostilities should be irrevocably commenced. Neither party could refuse, and some attempts at negotiation did take place at Dantzig, where Oxenstiern met Imperial Commissioners, but the Emperor still maintained his contemptuous attitude to the “Snow King,” echoing Wallenstein’s arrogant mot that “the Snow King would melt as he came south.” Oxenstiern was so incensed at the attitude of the Imperial Commissioners that he transmitted forthwith, as he was empowered to do if negotiations fell through, the demands of the King of Sweden, which were practically an ultimatum to the Emperor. It may be said at once that the demands were such as Ferdinand, with his foot on the neck of the Protestant States, was little likely to look at, with his disposable armies of 170,000 men and all the boastful promises of Wallenstein in his hands— Wallenstein, who on all occasions promised such chastisement of the Swedish pretender as would keep him on his own side of the Baltic for the rest of his life! Gustavus demanded that the Dukes of Pomerania and Mecklenburg, the latter being his cousins, should be fully restored to their territories and dignities, which bordered the Baltic; that all preparations in the northern ports of a fleet to ride the Baltic Seas should stop; Lower Saxony to be evacuated by the Imperial forces; guarantees for the safety of Stralsund to be given, and many a lesser demand as well—demands as a whole which could hardly have been listened to even had the Swedish forces reached the walls of Vienna.

From Copenhagen, Count Falkenburg travelled on to the Protestant Courts, and returned with promises, though at times somewhat vague, of assistance from many quarters—from the Dukes of Pomerania, Mecklenburg and Lunenburg; from the Landgrave of Hesse; from the Margrave of Baden; from the late administrator of Magdeburg, and from many of the lesser nobility of lower Saxony. They would assist by every means in their power, once the armies of Gustavus put in an appearance, but were much too apprehensive of Austria to risk any premature demonstration. Other reports were reassuring enough. Holland was raising troops that might come to his assistance, the Free Cities of Lubeck and Hamburg promised substantial financial support; and his own Swedish Estates had again enthusiastically called on their King to carry through the war with all his might, in the name of freedom and the reformed faith.

It was strong wine to put before a confident young man in his prime, and it took a firm grip of his heart. All Sweden that winter of 1629-30 rang to the armourers’ hammer, arsenals and factories vied with one another in production, and the whole civil life of Sweden merged itself enthusiastically in the roll of war preparation. The defence of Sweden was to be entrusted to the militia, and all the regular army, increased and duplicated, was got ready to be the hammer-head, the model and the heart round which the Protestant world should rally. And to the armies of Sweden came more and more of the professional soldiers of Europe, eager to enrol under the banner of him whom fame now said had already forgotten more than most leaders had learnt of the art and science of maintaining armies. No more were the soldiery to trust to the ravens and cruses of oil that should come without forethought, no more was subsistence to be wrung from a starving countryside, for Gustavus was before all things a Quartermaster-General, a foreseer and a provider. It was an army in which the QuartermasterGeneral was to be twin-god with the wielder of the sword, and it was an army to be equipped for all weathers.

To the ranks came more and more soldiers of Scotland, gay and cavaliering or dour and covenanting, and the remnant of the auld Scots’ standing army that the Union had largely cast adrift. To the Swedes came also that same type of English lad who had formerly gone a-crusading or to France with Harry of Agincourt. The best men from Mansfield’s mercenaries came also, and from lesser leaders. Rake-hell cavaliers and their men took to. the discipline and sobriety of the Swedish regime because in their heart of hearts they knew that that was the way that wars must be won.

Once again to propitiate the world, Gustavus wrote to the Electoral College a detail of his grounds of complaint against the Emperor, asking the College to endeavour to get his grievances attended to. To which, as might be expected, the Electors gave but a vague reply, again omitting, as had the Emperor, to give Gustavus his title of King. The preparations were as active in the naval yards as on shore, for Gustavus knew well that his oversea bases must be supported by the dominion of the Baltic. Great exertions equipped thirty vessels of war and 200 freight and store ships, which assembled near Stockholm, where 1500 troops were in camp and billet. The Chancellor Oxenstiern was to command in the recent acquisitions in Prussia, and have 10,000 troops for the purpose. Gustavus, lest there should be any danger of an attack from the side of Denmark, betook himself to Copenhagen in person, and was satisfied with the guarantees that he received from Christian.

While the King of Sweden was finishing his preparations, the Emperor, confident that he had dealt finally and faithfully with his Protestant opponents, attended in great pomp the Diet of the Estates of the Empire, which he had summoned to assemble at Ratisbon at the end of June 1630. With him came to Ratisbon his Empress Eleonora, whose coronation was yet to take place, with his son, now King of Hungary, two of the archduchesses, the Electors of Mainz, Cologne and Treves, and Maximilian of Bavaria, now Elector Palatine by questionable right, Counts Tilly and Anhalt the soldiers, all in superb array. But the swaggering theatrical, yet thrice-victorious Wallenstein outshone them all, arriving with a personal escort of 600 troopers who vied in brilliance with the Emperor’s own cortege. Sir Robert Anstruther represented England, with a brief to further the cause of the ex-King Frederick of Bohemia, now deserted by all in the Protestant collapse, while Father Joseph the Capuchin attended on behalf of France.

The general object of the Diet was to compose the affairs of Germany, now supposed to be at peace, and to get the shorn Protestant lambs to lie down in due humility with the Catholic lions. But the two great Protestant Electors who had hitherto supported the Emperor, those of Saxony and Brandenburg, were not there. They suffered from burning grievances, especially over the matter of the Archbishopric of Magdeburg. They ignored the urgency of the Emperor’s summons, and alleged that their dominions had been so completely exhausted by the Imperial troops as to be quite unable to bear the expense of an Imperial function. And they closed their reply to the summons with a most forcible denunciation of the cruelty and extortions of which Wallenstein had been guilty. With this came also an equally forcible accusation from the Duke of Pomerania, who asserted that 10,000,000 florins had been forcibly obtained from the Duchy in twelve months. The Duke of Wurtemberg and the deputies of various cities brought similar complaints. There now appeared also a printed account of the Duke of Friedland’s—to give Wallenstein his new title—lavish expenditure and ostentation, and of his magnificent palace at Prague, to build which it was alleged a hundred houses had been pulled down. Even the Duke of Bavaria and his supporters of the Catholic League added their weight to the accusations, as did also the English and French ambassadors.

To the Emperor this mass hatred aroused by his adviser, confidant and Commander-in-Chief came as a surprise and a shock. Astonished by the unanimity of the demand for Wallenstein’s dismissal, Ferdinand, already embarrassed by the sub-current of hostility within the Diet, hoped to propitiate the representatives by assenting to the dismissal of his Generalissimo, who had indeed retired to Memingen when he found himself thus assailed.

The general discussions of the Diet and the inquiries into the accusations against Wallenstein had endured during the autumn and through the winter,, and Ferdinand had said little to the members of the preparations known to be in progress in Sweden. Indeed, as the spring of 1630 was passing to summer came the news that Gustavus had landed in Pomerania, but even this fell flat in the heat of the pursuit of the execrated Austrian Commander-in-Chief. Finally, in the hope of securing the goodwill of the Electors and other members of the Diet, Ferdinand, on the understanding that the forces of the Catholic League commanded by Count Tilly would be placed at his disposal to meet the Swedes, not only dismissed his victorious commander, but also disbanded his army. In this perhaps Wallenstein had most to thank his own contemptuous view of Gustavus, and his frequent remarks to the Emperor that “ the Snow King would melt when he came south.” Otherwise Ferdinand could hardly at this juncture have dared to release trained troops, many of whom would transfer their swords to the invader, or to lose so experienced a commander.

It was not, however, till November, when Gustavus had been five months in Germany, that the Emperor came to this decision to dismiss Wallenstein, and also to disband his lawless and hated troops, compensated therefor by the tardy guarantee that the troops of the Catholic League and their commander, Count Tilly, should be at his disposal. How the long delays that eventually led up to this decision, as well as the decision itself, vitiated the Imperial and military situation, will be discussed hereafter. Its justification lay in the bringing of the Catholic League firmly down on the Imperial as distinct from the German side.

The disbanding of Wallenstein’s army, however, condemned as it often is as a needless sacrifice at a time of such great strain, was really but the logical sequence of the condition of the day, as well as the demand for the disappearance of so unpopular and ruffianly a force. The men were under contract with Wallenstein alone, and his disappearance involved theirs. As a matter of fact, many were re-enlisted in new Imperial levies as soon as the Emperor realised his need, though more of them departed north, to put their heads in the noose of Swedish discipline for the glamour of the great Commander’s name.

Before the Diet of Ratisbon was dissolved, Ferdinand gave notice of the assembly of a “Diet of Composition,” to heal still further outstanding differences within the Empire, which he would shortly summon for the ensuing year, and to this the representatives of the absent Protestant Electors agreed. But the chief item that could make any sort of composition possible, so far as the Protestant states were concerned—viz., a cancellation of the Edict of Restitution—seemed to be entirely absent from the bigoted Emperor’s intention.

The march of events now brings us to the stirring and effective scene in which Gustavus Adolphus takes leave of his Estates and his people for the last time, and of his adored daughter, a scene on which Swedish historians and the King’s biographers have always loved to dwell. The new levies were ready, the veteran troops refitted, the magazines and arsenals full, the ships of the armada riding at anchor. On May 30th, 1630, the Estates were assembled, and the King entered the assembly in his soldiering dress, leading by the hand his four-year-old daughter Christina. First he reminded the Estates that a former Diet had nominated his daughter his successor failing male issue, and that he desired a new Bill to be read confirming that inheritance and his arrangements for her guardianship. He then took the child in his arms, and in terms that brought tears to the eyes of those present called on the deputies to take the oath of allegiance to their future Queen. He explained to all the actual condition of the nation and of its treaties and agreements, and finally proceeded to take farewell. “Let no one imagine,” he said, “that I have undertaken this war lightly or without sufficient provocation. I take the Almighty God, in whose presence I stand this day, to witness that on entering upon it I am actuated neither by private feeling of my own nor by any natural inclination towards military enterprise . . . our Brethren the Protestants, who are groaning beneath the tyranny of Rome, are loudly requesting that succour at our hands of which with God’s blessing they shall be no longer deprived.” Then he voiced his feeling that he should not return, but fall in battle, and expressed the hope of their reunion in another world. Turning to the Lords and senators: “ Lords and senators of the kingdom, I pray in an especial manner for your welfare. May God be pleased to enlighten your minds, that you may continue to fulfil your important charges with success, and to the glory of that being who will one day demand an account of all our actions.

“ Gentlemen of the Order of the Clergy, permit me to exhort you to cultivate unanimity and concord, and to inspire among your hearers, whose hearts you may dispose at your pleasure, a love for all civil and Christian virtues ... let your own example display those excellencies that you require in them. ...

“Deputies of the commons and of the orders of peasants, may God bestow His blessing upon the labours of your hands . . . may He fill your granaries and supply you at all seasons with unfailing abundance.

“ I offer, lastly, my most earnest and unfeigned supplications for the subjects of these kingdoms. I bid you all an affectionate adieu, and it may be for ever, since who shall tell whether after this meeting that we may be allowed to see each other again upon earth?”

At this point we are told that the King and many of those present broke down, but that his Majesty, being the first to recover, pronounced a passage from the Scriptures that he was wont to use: “ Turn thee again, 0 Lord, at the last, and be gracious unto Thy servants. . . . O satisfy us early with Thy mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Let Thy work appear unto Thy servants and Thy glory unto their children. And let the beauty of our Lord be upon us, and establish Thou the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish Thou it. Amen.”

After the meeting of the Estates the King entertained the deputies to a banquet, and prepared for immediate embarkation when it was over. Here another affecting scene is recorded, when his daughter Christina came near to make a little speech in which she had been coached. For some little time the King did not notice her, till she pulled impatiently at his buff coat, and Gustavus turned to see her in the attitude of delivering her address. Catching her up in his arms, he was seized with uncontrollable emotion, and hung over her long in tears before parting for the ship’s side. It is only when a sovereign is very dear to his people’s hearts that such stories are treasured.

And then the great Armada put out to sea amid the roar of cannon and scenes of great enthusiasm, with the King and his brilliant entourage on board. But ere long the fleet was to encounter a change of weather that forced it back to Swedish coasts, where it remained at anchor for three weeks, so that it was not till June 24th, 1630, that the expedition arrived at the mouth of the Oder, at the small island of Ruden.

The King was among the first to land, kneeling in prayer as he did so. It was sunset, and the fires kindled by the Imperialists as warning and to impress the Swedes with their strength, twinkled and blazed on the adjacent mainland shore as the invaders jumped from their boats.

At the moment of the landing of Gustavus the forces of the Emperor and those of the Catholic League were ill prepared and ill organised for further war. The crushing of the King of Denmark and his Protestant Allies, while leaving the whole countryside prostrate and quivering, had scattered the components of the victorious combination, and had left them in that state of relaxation which usually follows a successful campaign. Wallenstein himself, as we have seen, was in disgrace, and had retired from active command while the complaints against him were being heard. The Imperial forces in northern Germany were commanded by an Italian of evil reputation, one Conti Torquati, with the Duke of Savelli as his lieutenant, but his troops, none too numerous, were scattered in garrison among the walled towns of Pomerania and Mecklenburg, the latter as a conquered Protestant territory, the former as the towns of an ally. But whether the Imperialists were in possession as conquerors or allies, cruelty, rapine and lust were the chief characteristics from which the people suffered.

With Wallenstein the object of universal hatred at this critical period, with his troops likely to be disbanded in answer to the well-deserved protest against them just described, and with the Catholic League only now deciding that they would place their troops at his disposal, Ferdinand still elected to treat the communications of Gustavus with studied insult, while having little means with which for the moment to oppose him.

Wallenstein, as we have seen, constantly laughed to scorn the idea of Gustavus as a serious enemy, but Tilly, on the contrary, had the greatest respect for his military abilities, and was not slow to give the Emperor a very different point of view. But as yet Tilly was not the Imperial Generalissimo, but still in command of the armies of the League only. The preparations of Gustavus must have been thoroughly well known, but the Emperor did not even mention the Swedish threat to the Diet of Ratisbon, since when the historic day arrived for Gustavus to set foot in Germany there were naturally few preparations to receive him.

The Imperial troops, however, were in possession of all the bridges, and progress inland could not be made while they were in their hands, while the very presence of the numerous Imperial garrisons served to still further impoverish the countryside which the King had determined to relieve.

With the adhesion to his cause of the states of the Catholic League, and the transfer of their troops to Imperial direction, the Emperor appointed Count Tilly as Generalissimo of all the forces at his disposal, but it was not till six months after Gustavus had landed that this first essential for success came to pass.

That portion of Germany which borders the Baltic opposite Sweden consists of the Duchies of Pomerania and Mecklenburg. The former is divided into two fairly equal portions by the River Oder, which runs into a long arm of the sea known as the Frische Haff, of which the entrance is barred by the islands of Usedom and Wollin. At the head of this inlet stands the city of Stettin, which is the capital of the Duchy. The plans which Gustavus had been so carefully maturing for some months involved the landing in Pomerania, the capture of Stettin as a base, and the driving of a wedge up the line of the Oder towards Frankfurt, in the hope of inducing the two large Protestant states of Brandenburg and Saxony to throw in their lot with him. After that he could but wait and see.

And it cannot be denied that, however much the Protestant states and peoples had desired the intervention of Gustavus on the earlier occasions on which they had sought it, the present occasion found them too numb and broken to evince any enthusiasm. Even the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, furious though they were at the Emperor’s anti-Protestant measures and edicts, and the excesses of Wallenstein’s troops, were not prepared to face war, for reasons many and diverse. From Pomerania itself Gustavus had many messages deprecating his use of the Duchy as the scene for a landing. But to an invader such as he, the way of Pomerania was the only way of access that enabled him to extend his helping hand to the Protestants of both East and West, and he had no intention of being deflected from his purpose.

The landing, commencing on Ruden at sunset on June 24th, took two days, during which the Imperialists made no sign. The delay which the bad weather had produced had consumed most of the supplies embarked with the troops, and Gustavus found with anger that his instructions to collect supplies from Stralsund against his arrival had not been carried out. He therefore despatched a number of ships to Oxenstiern, commanding in Prussia. Gustavus then himself led a reconnoitring force up the Island of Usedom, expelling various small Imperial garrisons thereon, and crossed to the island of Wollin also, whence the Imperial detachments fled eastwards to Colberg. Stralsund alone received him with open arms, and 5000 Stralsund troops were at once taken into the Swedish Army. Stralsund, Rugen and the islands at the mouth of the Oder were now his, but the remainder of the whole coast was in the hands of the Imperial troops. With his ships now in the inland sea, Stettin, the capital of Pomerania, at the head of the inlet, lay before him, and it also contained an Imperial garrison. Savelli was south-east of Stralsund and Conti west of the Oder, but when they learnt that the Swedes had landed, Conti withdrew up the Oder to the towns of Gartz and Griefenhagen on the left and right banks respectively, while Savelli fell back to Anklam.

By July 18th close on 9000 men were ready on Usedom for an advance which would be made by water up the great Frische Haff of the Oder and Gustavus set forth after a preliminary storm, succeeded by a fair wind, that took his ships up the inlet at a spanking pace. Landing below the city, he met the first hint of how little for the moment he had succeeded in kindling enthusiasm, for a drummer came to meet him with a message from the Governor, Danitz, that unless he re-embarked forthwith he would turn his guns upon him. To this Gustavus could but reply that had the Governor anything to say it should be said in person. After a while Danitz appeared at the head of a deputation from the Duke of Pomerania, the aged Bogislaus, who was himself in Stettin, and who now changed his note of defiance to one of supplication, imploring the King to choose some other point of entry for his invasion than the territories of Pomerania. To this Gustavus refused an answer until he had had an interview with Bogislaus. While the Governor went back, the King, who was now near the city, conversed amicably with the crowds who had flocked out from Stettin. He saluted the Burgomaster and took him by the hand, and talked to him at length of his reasons for taking up the sword in the Protestant cause. The crowd were obviously impressed, and. as the day drew on Bogislaus arrived with his guards and whole Court. The aged Duke prayed and expostulated, terrified at the thought of the treatment that the Elector Palatine had received at the hands of the Emperor. Gustavus addressed those present on the terrible state to which Protestantism had been reduced. Finally, possibly awed by the strong and imposing force behind the King contained in fifty-one ships at anchor, the courtiers supported the Swedish demand. Bogislaus reluctantly gave way, at length exclaiming, “Then be it so in God’s name.” The King then set his sentries, and the next day disembarked his force, and at once commenced to put all the defences in proper order. And thus, by some show of forcible persuasion, Stettin became the base, the admirable sea and land base, for the invasion of Germany. Five thousand Pomeranian troops were forthwith taken into Swedish pay, and, under the name of “ The White Brigade,” achieved considerable renown.

From Stettin Gustavus now issued a manifesto famous in history, in which he formally detailed his motives for entering the Empire in arms. Important though it is, however, it contains little more than Gustavus had already given to his own Estates. A nation, he said, can only remain at peace so long as its neighbours are peaceful. He complained of his despatches to Bethlem Gabor being seized, and of the intrigues of the Empire on behalf of Sigismund, that Germany had been forbidden to furnish the Swedes with supplies, and that twice had the Imperial eagle been openly displayed against him— in 1627, when the Duke of Holstein brought a body of troops against the Swedes, and in 1629, when Amheim had been publicly despatched by Wallenstein against him. Wallenstein’s assumption of the title of Admiral of the Baltic, hitherto the appenage of Danish and Swedish kings, and the Imperial designs on the northern sea were also specially dwelt on, as well as the insults offered to the Swedish deputies at Lubeck, and in general the sufferings to which Protestant folk had been put, and the excesses of the Imperial troops throughout the whole of Germany. At this period Gustavus was particular to prefer his complaints only against the Austrians themselves, and not against the troops of the Catholic League, which might, he still hoped, remain outside the struggle.

Duke Bogislaus wrote to the Emperor trying to explain his reluctant acquiescence in the Swedish entry into Pomerania, alleging the Imperial failure to hold the islands of Usedom and Wollin at the mouth, of the Frische Haff as his reason.

The Emperor in the meantime, while ignoring the manifesto, of which he must have been cognisant, wrote to Gustavus to express his surprise at his wanton and unprovoked entry into Germany, and so the manoeuvres of the pen for a time went on.

The situation with which Gustavus was faced was politically a disconcerting one. Between the Duchies of Pomerania and Mecklenburg, which bordered the Baltic, and the Catholic States and Austria itself, lay, barring an advance to the south, the two great Protestant states of Brandenburg and Saxony. Until they saw fit to join the Swedes, or at any rate to open their bridges to the passage of the troops of Gustavus and all who might join them, progress, both military and political, could not be extensive. If these states allowed passage to the Imperial troops or actually joined the Catholic states and the Empire, with whom they had never yet quarrelled, the situation might be most unfavourable. Whatever assurances the King might have had before he started, very few, and none of any importance, matured. On himself and his army, and on them alone, was he able to place any reliance. The dispossessed Protestant princes came to him, naturally enough, and especially the ex-administrator of Magdeburg, confident that that city could be induced to rise and drive forth the Imperial garrison. In pursuit of this design, the ex-administrator, to assist whom Gustavus deputed Shallman as his agent, started off for the maiden city, and through his premature zeal eventuated the pitiful tragedy of that city and all the contumely and anxiety that were to accrue to Gustavus therefrom.

So far, however, as immediate events went, the advantageous foothold in Germany had been gained without the occurrence of a single casualty. It was now the first object of Gustavus to secure an area in which he could concentrate his armies and train and incorporate therein those who were coming to his standard as individuals, and who soon grew numerous, as well as those who came to him as formed bodies under their leaders, and whose accession ere long brought his forces up to 25,000 men.

But though he was unmolested, the Imperial forces, slowly increasing, surrounded his foothold in Pomerania on all sides. Conti was strongly entrenched at Gartz and Griefenhagen, watching for an opportunity to recover Stettin, Savelli was still at Anklam and bringing up reinforcements into the valley of the Tollense, while Colberg, seven miles east of the island of Wollin, was strongly held by the Imperialists and prevented land communication with Oxenstiern. From Anklam to Gartz, and thence round to Colberg, a chain of Imperial garrisons held the country, yet could not be brought to concentrated and open battle. The first tactical steps were to gain elbow room and to capture and expel the garrisons in the chain of posts. This Gustavus set himself to do, and in a few weeks, driving Savelli from Anklam, he had generally gained possession of the coast from Usedom to Stralsund. Numerous contacts had now taken place between the opposing forces, and a Swedish detachment, pushed west to Passwalk, was surprised by Savelli and put to the sword.

Except for the policy of steadily enlarging the area under occupation, Gustavus was not yet prepared for further advance up the Oder, and decided on an attempt at clearing the country of Mecklenburg, from which his cousins the Dukes had been expelled by Wallenstein. He therefore started by sea with a portion of his force for Stralsund, leaving General Hom to face Conti on the Oder. On September 9th, Gustavus reached Stralsund, to be received with every kind of enthusiasm and rejoicing, but his men, owing to bad weather, did not arrive till nearly a month later. Gustavus therefore landed them at Stralsund, and marched overland towards Dammgarten and Rebnitz, where the most he could do for the present was to establish a sea base and leave a force in garrison at the latter place.

While the King of Sweden was away in Mecklenburg and endeavouring to establish a base from which to operate up the Elbe, Torquato Conti sallied from his encampment at Hartz and attacked Stettin, which was, however, so stoutly held by Hom that the Imperialists were driven home with heavy loss. From Colberg, too, they endeavoured to pierce the investment held by Kliphausen and to ravage the countryside, till Gustavus, who had now returned to Stettin, sent his mounted troops under Bauditzen to force them within their own lines.

Before the winter of 1630 set in, the Duke of Savelli made an attempt to relieve the fortress of Demmin, which closed the road over the Tollense into Mecklenburg from Pomerania and the coast, and which was now closely invested by the Swedes. This brought the energetic King back into this part of the field in person, in the hope of bringing the imperialists to battle in the open before their numbers should become too many for him. The importance that was attached to this town is a fair example of the governing feature in this war in North Germany, viz. the possession of the bridges. All the bridges passed through fortresses or fortified towns, and unless secured by capture or garrisoned by arrangement with the friendly or neutral ruler who owned them, neither was manoeuvre far afield possible nor could territory in occupation be protected. This feature becomes of tragic import when we come to the story at Magdeburg.

On his approaching Demmin with some 3000 men, the Italian formed his army, which was much superior to that of Gustavus, into a long line, in the hope of overlapping the Swedes. In the days of primitive firearms, and against the highly disciplined troops of Gustavus, such tactics caused little apprehension. To the King it merely gave the opportunity he was seeking, and forming his troops into mass, he drove into the centre of the Imperial line, then, facing outwards, proceeded to roll up both their wings. The major portion of the enemy crumpled up, and those battalions which had retained their formation were broken by their own guns, which the Swedes turned against them.

But winter, with all its North German severity, was on them, and the Imperialists had already kept the field longer than their wont, expecting some convention with their opponents. On trying to ascertain what was the Swedish intention, they were astounded to find that Gustavus had no intention of going into winter quarters at all, and trusted to the all-weather equipment of his army to give him very definite opportunities. The “Snow King” had made a close study of winter warfare, and clothed his troops therefor, while the Imperialists had to shift for themselves in the matter of winter wearing apparel, in a country whose resources they had wantonly destroyed.

The King, whose headquarters were at Golnow, on the east side of the Frische Haff, whence he could watch Colberg, now advanced northwards and invested Griefenhagen, in pursuit of his policy to secure eventually the line of the River Warta, and in so doing keep the Imperialists out of Eastern Pomerania, as the securing of the line of the Tollense would do on the western side of the Oder. The town was invested on December 23rd, and was abandoned a few days later by its commander, Don Ferdinand of Capna, who fell back on Gartz. Pursued by the Swedes, his rearguard was roughly handled, with the loss of its commander, and Gustavus was now once more free to drive Conti’s troops from Gartz.

Conti himself had resigned his command in disgust at not being reinforced and at being left to face the Swedes alone and without supplies. He had been succeeded by Annibal, Count Schaumburg, an experienced continental soldier. The Count was not, however, prepared to hold Gartz, which was little more than a post of observation, and fell back, vigorously pursued by Bauditzen and his cavalry, towards Frankfurt. He sent a portion of his force to Landsberg, the important fortified crossing of the Warta, which it was part of the plans of Gustavus to possess.

Before the Imperialists left they set fire to Gartz, and Gustavus was met by the inhabitants fleeing from the flames of their houses, absolutely exposed to the inclemency of the weather, the town being further destroyed by an explosion of powder. Indeed, Gustavus would have penetrated to Frankfurt itself had not the Commandant of Custrin refused to give him passage over the Oder.

Even with this check the results were highly satisfactory to the King, for he had now cleared Pomerania of the Imperial troops with the exceptions of the garrisons of Colberg, Griefwalde and Demmin. Colberg was now too far within his lines to be relieved, and would in due course yield to famine, while the strategical Demmin was the first thing to be taken in the new year.

Though Tilly was now in the saddle of Imperialist command, and had his troops of the Catholic League at his disposal, matters in Hesse and Magdeburg were too serious, added to the season of the year, to make him active in moving towards Pomerania. Unmolested, Gustavus set himself to obtain possession of Demmin, and then to ensure the liberation of Mecklenburg and the restoration to their Duchies of his expatriated cousins. Leaving Hom to watch the garrison and crossings of the Warta at Landsberg, Gustavus marched swiftly over the frozen marshes of the Brandenburg Marches, captured the town and garrison of Loitz, and commenced to break ' ground before Demmin on February 12th, in a severe frost that tried his sappers and their tools to the utmost. Savelli himself was within the fortress, which was well garrisoned and well found, and Tilly, not unjustly, expected a stout resistance while he came to the rescue. But Todt, with 2000 Stralsund infantry, stormed one of the outer redoubts, held by eight companies of an Imperial regiment, while Baron Teufell carried another. Then, to the surprise of the Swedes, in spite of the fact that the main defences were untouched, a parley was beat from the walls, and Savelli, dreading apparently the issue of an assault by such troops, craved leave to be allowed to march away. To this Gustavus somewhat contemptuously assented, and, to the fury of Tilly, thus obtained possession of this strategic town and bridge, as well as still further established that prestige of arms which was already responsible for Savelli’s pusillanimous conduct. The Count had, in fact, brought himself up to Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and was there with 20,000 men and the army of Count Schaumberg, who had succeeded Conti and had been driven from Gartz and Griefenhagen by Gustavus, so that, had Savelli taken heart of grace in Demmin for a bare fifteen days, it would have sufficed for his rescue.

It has been said by those who knew the true mental attitude of Napoleon in his battles, that he only asked for his enemies to stand up to him. Would they do that, he knew that, with his troops and his grip of battle fighting, the result was beyond doubt. It was this outlook that made him exclaim when he saw the British line ready to give him battle beyond La Belle Alliance, “Enfin je les tiens ces Anglais!”. In just the same spirit old soldier Tilly, who had never been beaten yet, burned to force Gustavus to meet him in the open and let the Catholic commander whip him off the field. In the same spirit had Gustavus himself tried to entice the lesser Imperialists from their walled towns in Pomerania. But that astute leader had above all things a just sense of values and proportions. He had not the least intention of meeting the redoubtable generalissimo until he had enough troops for the purpose. The Count now trailed forth across the marches towards Neu Brandenburg, passing the entrenched camp of the Swedes at Passwalk, to which Gustavus had now returned from Demmin, within a league. Gustavus lay low and sent word to Kliphausen, who had 2000 men in Neu Brandenburg, to withdraw to Passwalk. Then occurred one of those regrettable happenings which break the heart of all commanders. The message to Kliphausen miscarried. The latter, with whom were 600 stout Scots under Lieut.-Colonel Lindsay, of Lord Reay’s regiment, imagined that he was to stand firm. Tilly, first putting to the sword a small Swedish garrison at Feldsberg which stood in his way, appeared before Neu Brandenburg and summoned Kliphausen to surrender. Receiving a defiant answer, he proceeded to the storm, and though stoutly met for a while, the Imperialists, under County Monteculi, the same who became so famous later as the opponent of Turanne, effected a breach and entered the defences. The garrison then beat a parley, which was disregarded or unheard in the din of the escalado. Everyone within was put to the sword, not only the 2000 Swedes and Scots, but all the inhabitants, men, women and children, save only sixty found in the town hall after.

It was a bitter contretemps for Gustavus, but did the Imperialists no good. “Neu Brandenburg Quarter” became the Swedish call to vengeance for many a day after, and many an Imperialist in the intakings to come gasped out his life to that bitter cry. Nor was there anything else to achieve since Gustavus was not to be provoked to come into the open, and Tilly returned to assist Pappenheim at Magdeburg, leaving 6000 men at Frankfurt and 5000 more at Landsberg.

The capture of Demmin now left Gustavus in undisputed possession of Pomerania and in a position, when the time was ripe, to move westward into the Mecklenburgs, while even Colberg, after a blockade of five months, had surrendered, and the land road to Oxenstiern and Prussia now lay open also. It has been told how so many of the documents relating to the Gustavian plans and campaigns were destroyed by fire, so that we have little record of many of his methods, especially as to the organisation under which he maintained such large and increasing forces in the devastated lands of Pomerania. But it is very evident that he thoroughly understood the quartermastering of his army, the rock on which to this day so many leaders and their advisory and executive staffs strike and sink. Even in those hardy days, armies crawled on their bellies, and we must imagine Gustavus seeing that convoys by road and river and expense magazines of both food and equipments were established. The only letter almost of this period that is extant, is one written from his winter headquarters at Golnow to Axel Oxenstiern in Prussia, in which he complains of the difficulty of supply, and expresses his satisfaction that Oxenstiern is taking the corn provision into his own staunch and capable hands. He also outlines his plans for an early blow against the Imperial winter quarters, which would mean his taking of Gartz and Griefenhagen and his plans against Frankfurt-on-Oder. He explains that his hand is still too painful, after his wound of the previous year at Dirschau, for him to rehearse at length all that is in his mind, and after pleading with the Chancellor to make his dynasty, especially his aged mother and infant daughter, his particular care should the writer fall, Gustavus ends with those expressions of piety and resignation and complete trust in the Almighty which were so frequent in all his doings in the later years of his life.

The Intaldng of Frankfurt-on-Oder—The Diet of Leipsic—The Tragedy of Magdeburg—The Aftermath—The Clearing of Mecklenburg—Tilly’s March to the South.

THOUGH Gustavus had taken up his winter quarters behind stout entrenchments at Passwalk, as if ready to move towards Mecklenburg in the spring, his position also left him free to advance to the south, and it was this latter, to gain both Frankfurt and Landsberg and thus secure the line of the Warta, that he had planned, while apparently bent on going west. Suddenly embarking his artillery into barges on the Oder, he swept south along the left bank, with Horn and a large portion of the army on the right bank, and on March 27th, before Tilly had realised that he was moving, appeared before Frankfurt- on-Oder. Lightly fortified, that town was, however, garrisoned by Schaumberg and 7000 of the flower of the Imperial forces. Schaumberg, with whom was FieldMarshal Tieffenbach, hurriedly set to the improving of his position when the news of the Swedish advance was brought to him, and he had little doubt that he could resist till Tilly could come to his succour. After three days of skirmishing in the outskirts of the town, by the evening of the 29th the Imperialists had been driven back to their main defences, and Gustavus commenced to set his artillery against the gates.

On April 3rd, a Sunday, the Swedish army spent the morning in prayer, and the Imperialists, hoping the quiet meant that they were about to raise the siege, howled derision from the ramparts on the Swedish outposts. Shortly after noon the King called on Baner’s and Hepburn's brigades, known as the “ blue ” and the “yellow,” for immediate service. He had planned a surprise attack, and opening a heavy fire with all his guns, sent forward the two brigades to the escalade. Wading the fosse and setting their leaders against the outer wall, they were in possession of it before the surprised Imperialists could rally, and rushed to the town through a gate which they had blown in with a petard. The defenders now succeeded in discharging two cannon into the mass of the Scots at the gate, and inflicted heavy loss, but before they could fire again Colonels Lumsdell and Munro, at the head of their pikemen, poured through the gate and drove the defenders headlong into the streets, securing in the melee, the inner portcullis before it could be dropped. Then was the Guben gate opened, and Bauditzen’s horse poured into the garden areas, while the defenders began to break away for the bridges on the Oder. In other quarters the blue and. yellow brigades, as they spread out right and left, met with desperate resistance, especially from an Irish regiment under a Colonel Walter Butler, which with their commander died almost to a man, neither asking nor expecting quarter.

In the midst of it the Imperialists beat for a parley, but were unheard or unregarded, for the cry had gone forth, “ Neu Brandenburg Quarter ” and the Imperialists reaped as they had sown. The streets were piled with dead, the mass of bodies made the bridge almost impassable, and it was but the existence of a redoubt on the further side that enabled Schaumberg and Tieffenbach to save themselves and a remnant of their men. The immense baggage-trains of the Imperialists fell into the hands of the Swedes, with a very large quantity of military stores. Long and relentless was the night of pillage, for such an “ intaking ” was too much for even the discipline of Gustavian troops, though not an inhabitant was injured. The capture included 800 prisoners, chiefly officers, eighty cannon and large amounts of powder and lead, with 1000 cannon shot and twenty-four stand of colours.

It was, in fact, a pretty feat of arms, almost unprecedented—the carrying of a fortified and well-garrisoned town by surprise and escalade. Of the 7000 defenders, 4000 now lay dead for their pains, and Schaumberg’s report to Tilly was pitiful enough : “ Scarce 3000 men are left me.” That general had, indeed, heard of the advance of the King, and, believing that Schaumberg was safe for at least a fortnight, had already moved to his succour, and actually reached Alt Brandenburg, when the news of the fall of Frankfurt reached him. He then fell back on Magdeburg, hoping in prosecution of the siege of that city to draw Gustavus further into Germany, before bringing him to battle in that great engagement in which he cherished the hope of destroying the Swedish invaders once and for all.

While Gustavus was clearing Pomerania of Imperial domination, and was eagerly wondering how he could induce the great Protestant States to give him the support on which he had so confidently relied, there assembled in Leipsic a Diet which had been summoned by John George Elector of Saxony. It will be remembered how he and the Elector of Brandenburg, the two largest of the Protestant States, had never broken with the Empire during those years of the war that had waged from 1618 to 1630, but how, disgusted with Wallenstein’s savageries during the Danish period and the anti-Protestant measures of the Emperor there, they had abstained from attending the Diet of Ratisbon in 1630. So unpromising was the prospect for the Protestants, that the two Electors now summoned a Diet of the Protestant States to assemble at Leipsic on February 3rd, refusing to attend the “Diet of Composition,” at which the Emperor wished to pursue the questions left unsettled by the Diet of Ratisbon. The rapid progress that Gustavus was making in Pomerania, while still falling short of inducing the two great Electors to pronounce in his favour, undoubtedly appealed to them as adding to the embarrassments of the Emperor, and made the moment seem favourable for these two to obtain proper concessions from Ferdinand, or, failing that, to concert measures of security should they too come under the ban.

With the Elector of Saxony, especially eager to be avenged on Wallenstein was the erstwhile Imperial leader, Count Arnheim. Acting apparently on Arnheim’s advice, the Elector, refusing to acknowledge as binding the assent that his ambassador had given on his behalf to take part in the “ Diet of Composition,” proceeded to summon a General Assembly of the representatives of the Protestant States to commence on February 6th.

The Emperor was more than annoyed at this proceeding, and endeavoured to prevent the assembly taking place. To his remonstrances that it was entirely illegal and ultra vires, the Elector replied that by the Recess of 1555 it was enacted that in the case of any flagrant violation of any of their rights the several states concerned should have power to assemble of themselves, for the purpose not only of remonstrance, but also of adopting measures that should best suit their interests, in the event of remonstrance being disregarded.

This Protestant Diet assembled, as a matter of fact, while Gustavus was concluding his operations against Demmin and Mecklenburg, and before his surprise movement towards Frankfurt-on-Oder. To it came the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, the two Dukes of Saxo-Weimar, the Margraves of Brandenburg and Baden Durlach, the Prince of Anhalt, the Landgrave of Hesse, the two Counts Mansfield, the deposed Dukes of Mecklenburg, the Dukes of Brunswick and of Lunenburg and many another, as well as representatives from the Free Towns. The town of Leipsic was guarded with every precaution, barriers were erected and chains hung across the roadways. Determined that they should not be surprised by any coup of the Imperialists, the resolutions of the Diet showed more spirit and determination than might have been expected. The tyranny, avarice and extortion displayed by the Emperor since his election were severely commented on, the Edict of Restitution was again condemned, and all the subjects of complaint, equally reprobated by the Catholic States, resulting from the behaviour of the Imperial troops were brought up here as they had been at Ratisbon the autumn before. One great result stood out. Lutherans and Calvinists ended their strife and combined, and decided that their faith should be known as “The Evangelical Religion.” They agreed to raise for their mutual defence a force of 40,000 men. But the peace of the Reich did very properly—always supposing it was to be gained by peaceable means—occupy their attention, and it was decided to invite the Catholic States to enter into a treaty for restoring the old conditions of toleration and friendship which had originally supervened on the Reformation. They appealed to the latter to use their influence with the Emperor for the abrogation of all acts hostile to Protestants or contrary to the rights of the Germanic states.

But as the Diet was sitting, came Chemnitz as an envoy from Gustavus, to inform them of his having driven the Imperialists from Demmin, and of his intention not to desist from his hostilities till the rights of all Protestants in the Empire were fully protected and secured. Yet, curiously enough, there was no discussion in the Diet, no allusion even to the presence of Gustavus and all the successes which he was achieving, or the military prestige that was drawing to him more and more of the soldiery of Europe. The conspiracy of taboo by the Diet remained, partly, no doubt, from the jealousy of the Elector of Saxony, partly from the hope of securing what they wanted without an open rupture, partly from memory of the collapse of the King of Denmark’s movement, so that no answer and no recognition came to the King of Sweden.

Yet another striking victory was to come to their ears, and still they made no sign, for before the Diet was dissolved, as their “ Conclusions of Leipsic ” were signed, came the message from Gustavus, telling of his signal success in capturing Frankfurt-on-Oder. Chemnitz now urged in person the advantages of prompt alliance with Sweden, while Charnace, the French representative, also brought strong recommendations from Cardinal Richelieu to the same effect. Nevertheless John George would have none of it. He stated to Chemnitz that he had enough influence with the Emperor to secure what was wanted without a breach, while he had no guarantee that Gustavus, after embroiling him with the Emperor, might not return to Sweden and leave him in the lurch.

But the moment was about to arrive when the patience of Gustavus would run out, and he would at least compel his brother-in-law of Brandenburg to stop his shilly-shally, and that occasion was to be the tragedy of Magdeburg, which must now be told in full.

Unresponsive as were the big Electors, the Landgrave of Hesse and the Duke of Lunenburg sent assurances that as soon as Gustavus could advance further into Germany they would actually join him. Disappointing, however, as was the apathy of the Protestant States, one accession of great value Was to be his, for an alliance with France was negotiated after considerable discussion between Charnace, the French envoy, and Gustavus. The struggle between France and Spain for the Duchy of Mantua had brought the Emperor of Austria down on the side of Spain, and the negotiations by Richelieu, which first freed Gustavus by bringing about the Polish Peace, for a landing in Germany, was the definite riposte thereto. We have seen Charnace urging Gustavus to support the Protestants, and now, just as the King was most in need of allies and assistance, we see him coming forward with a definite treaty between France and Sweden. The latter was to agree to keep not less than 30,000 foot and 6000 horse in the field, and the French would contribute 400,000 rixdallers to their support, paying 40,000 down at once, the remainder within the year. It was stipulated, too, that the States of the Catholic League should be allowed a position of neutrality should they desire it, and that Austria as such was to be regarded as the primary enemy. By this means France, as a Catholic Power, justified her political action in alliance with the Protestant party, and Gustavus, at this time still uncertain of his position, had no desire for more foes than necessary.

It is now time to tell of the tragedy of Magdeburg, the memory of which thrills the civilised world with horror to this day. The destruction of the Maiden Town is the worst of the many stains on the Imperial escutcheon, and an example that needs no further amplification of the ruthless methods and outlook of the Imperial leaders. It has already been explained that Christian William, the ex-administrator of Magdeburg, had joined Gustavus in Pomerania on his first landing, and had. declared his ability to raise the city once again against the Empire. Early in the previous century, Magdeburg had declared for the reformed faith, and had then successfully resisted a siege by Prince Maurice of Saxony on behalf of the Emperor Charles V, and had refused in the present troubles to pay, on Wallenstein’s demand, for a regiment of horse in the Imperial forces. Christian William had joined the Protestant movement under Christian of Denmark, and when that leader was driven from the field, the administrator, left helpless, had come under the Ban of the Empire, and was declared to have forfeited his position. The town had little relished the peremptory and illegal removal of its administrator, and lay murmuring. When therefore the ex-administrator, with the Swedish agent, visited the town after the landing of Gustavus had stirred all those Protestant hearts whom the Imperial severities had not cowed, they found it ready enough to rise again. Then, unfortunately, the pair made a mistake in discovering themselves not only to the magistrates, but also to the people. A wave of enthusiasm rose up, it was believed that the Swedes were marching to their help, the town flew to arms, and the Te Deum was sung in the churches. Not content with a defensive till Gustavus could make good sufficiently to be able to penetrate into Germany, the burghers must need sally forth, led by the administrator, into the neighbouring districts, attacking the Imperial detachments and returning laden with plunder. This premature action was not at all what Gustavus had looked for. Until the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg had joined him, or at least offered him control of the fortified towns through which the bridges over the rivers ran, he was not in a position to come to the rescue of the Maiden Town, however distressed she might be.

The most he could do was to send one of his experienced officers, Count Falkenburg, to her assistance, while protesting that the whole thing was premature.

The Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg, whose attempt to raise troops on the Elbe has been referred to, after capturing several of the smaller Imperial garrisons in the vicinity of Hamburg, was attacked in Ratzeburg by Pappenheim on behalf of Tilly with 6000 men, and compelled to surrender. This put an end to any hope of a general revolt in the lower Palatinate, and enabled Pappenheim to secure the Bridge of Dessau, which commanded the approach to Magdeburg from Pomerania through Brandenburg. He then turned his attention to that town, before which, by the end of 1630, he had set himself down, while Gustavus was at Gulnow, still engaged in clearing Pomerania of Imperialist garrisons.

The burghers of Magdeburg, however, with a proud record of invulnerability behind them, were prepared to put up a stout defence, and under the guidance of Count Falkenberg organised their defences and their supplies in a thoroughly systematic manner, so that famine at least should not be their master before the Swedes could come on the scene. Unfortunately a hurricane deprived them of the services of the Count at their most critical period, he being blown from his horse and severely injured.

By the end of 1630 Pappenheim had gained possession of all the outlying works surrounding the town, with the exception of the village of Ahlensleben, which had changed hands repeatedly, but eventually remained with the burghers. At last, however, by dint of artillery battering, even this post fell, and immediately after, Tilly, now the Imperial Generalissimo, himself put in an appearance. Drawing up his own force in sight of the ramparts, he informed the administrator of his new appointment, and summoned him and the town to return to their allegiance to the Empire. The reply was a spirited one, followed by a daring sally in which not only were the Imperialists driven from their trenches, but the post of Shoenbeck, two miles from the town, was captured and fortified and a strong detachment left therein. The holding of this post for four weeks allowed the citizens of Magdeburg to draw any supplies they needed from outside, and to live in far greater plenty during the remainder of the siege than their besiegers. Count Tilly, content for a while with his summons to the town, had betaken himself towards Mecklenburg for the support of the Duke of Savelli in Demmin. Some coolness between the two principal Imperial officers, Pappenheim and Mansfield, militated against efficient prosecution of the siege, so that it was not till Tilly’s return from his fool’s errand for the relief of Demmin, which Savelli had surrendered to Gustavus so prematurely, that the siege was pressed in real earnest. Under Falkenberg’s skilled handling the burgher and other town forces had become very efficient, as he had been able to inform Gustavus, but as the siege wore on losses were thinning his ranks sadly enough. Also as the first enthusiasm wore thin the city was by no means of one mind. The administrator was ineffective, there were Catholic citizens who contrived to keep Pappenheim well informed, and there were those who wished to come to terms and those who insisted on holding out. On Tilly’s return, Pappenheim, the fierce, eager soldier, was all for a storming, while the less active Tilly was content with a leaguer. But as zeal had its way, the Imperialists assumed a more vigorous offensive. Several redoubts were stormed, batteries were erected on both sides of the Elbe, and the garrison was seriously incommoded thereby. So heavy a fire was maintained by night and by day that Falkenberg was obliged to evacuate the New Town, and when this was done but 2300 effective fighting men remained to him of a garrison originally more than twice that number. As the New Town was abandoned, Pappenheim crossed the river with five regiments and established himself in the abandoned suburbs. It was now well on into April, and, winter over, Pappenheim worked at his approaches relentlessly, while Tilly and Mansfield pressed hard on other fronts, the number of Imperial cannon in action being greatly increased and a concentrated fire maintained. Spirited as was the burgher reply, nevertheless prolonged hostilities had sadly diminished their ammunition supply, as it had their numbers. On the other hand, news of the steady successes of Gustavus raised their spirits, and the report of his advance against Frankfurt-on-Oder had still further contributed to their confidence. Again did Tilly urge the magistrates, the burghers, and Count Falkenberg not to delay their surrender till his standards flew on their ramparts, and again did he receive a spirited defiance, and an answer in the shape of three daring sallies, which surprised and destroyed the besiegers’ trenches. But victory is not always to the brave, and on May Day Pappenheim planted seven new batteries against the devoted town. A few days later he had reached the counterscarp, and now urged on Tilly an assault. To Tilly had come news that the Swedish patrols were within six leagues of Magdeburg, and he was anxious enough to get the business over, for the Elector of Brandenburg might open the bridges any day.

Before Frankfurt had fallen on April 3rd, Tilly had, as has been related, again moved from Magdeburg as far as Alt Brandenburg, but had returned to the siege on hearing of the fall of Frankfurt. He now repeated his summons, and the burghers thought it but one more sign that Gustavus was approaching. During May 8th the Imperial artillery redoubled their fire, and then on the afternoon of the 9th as suddenly ceased. Hope persuaded the defenders that the Imperialists were about to withdraw. As a matter of fact their agents were in the town with proposals for a surrender, and their commander was a prey to indecision. But Tilly, whose cessation of artillery fire was but a ruse to lull suspicion, after much discussion with his officers and much stimulation from Pappenheim, decided to attack early on the ioth, despite the presence of his envoys in the town, at an hour when the burghers’ guards might be resting. An assault was made at three different points under Pappenheim, Mansfield and the Duke of Holstein. The attack came as a surprise on all sides. Pappenheim’s column entered the town to find but a feeble opposition, as the burghers, amid the ringing of bells and beating of drums, hurried to the posts they should never have quitted. Falkenberg fell mortally wounded as he tried to rally the defenders. His successor Schmid soon met a similar fate. All was confusion and despair, and the hitherto resolute burghers gave way on all sides. Mansfield and the Duke’s columns also succeeded in forcing an entrance, and met with an equally unorganised resistance. In such masses did the Imperialists now swarm into the town that it was impossible to rally the defenders, who were speedily put to the sword. But not only were the soldiery given no quarter, but the mad lust for slaughter and pillage resulted in the complete destruction of the whole inhabitants, to the number of 40,000, regardless of ages or sex.

Contemporary accounts, which are usually accepted, speak of the piteous children trying to hide under the bodies of dead and dying parents from the fiends who spared nothing in their blood-lust. The whole town, with the exception of the cathedral, was burnt to the ground, and in the surviving cathedral, the callous Tilly proceeded, after the mocking triumph of the day, to hear the Te Deum sung, just as Gustavus, innocent however of slaughter, had heard it in Frankfurt-on-Oder. It is but fair to say that history has acquitted Tilly of having enjoined or encouraged the massacre, but merely to have believed, after the feeling of the age, that successful troops in a storming must be allowed their licence. Certain it is that he took no steps to stop it, or to provide for any form of protection for the inhabitants in his plans for the storming. And so for all time this dreadful drama remains a horror and an offence wherever the Thirty Years War be yet remembered. That it cowed and terrified the Protestant people for a while goes without saying, but ere long it evoked, as such actions always do, a dour reaction, which contributed to the Imperialist destruction.

The terrible fate that had befallen the first city or state in internal Germany came as a severe blow to the King of Sweden as well as to the Protestant cause, and was naturally a strong argument of those who held and said that Gustavus had “ butted in ” from personal and unnecessary motives into a situation where he was not wanted. So much was this so that the King thought it necessary to explain in a manifesto all that had happened in the matter.

To those who have followed his career it will be patent that no unworthy or inefficient motive was behind his failure to relieve the beleaguered town. Indeed, it will readily be realised that the whole question of the neutrality of the two great Protestant states was at the bottom of the disaster. As soon as Gustavus had straightened out his forces after the capture of Frankfurt in the second week in April, he prepared to move towards Magdeburg. The story of the fortified river crossings, which is the story of all events in Germany, must be considered. He had either to persuade the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, which intervened between Pomerania and Magdeburg, to join him, or at least to allow of his passage. Failing these, there was the alternative of forcing a passage, storming the fortresses which contained the bridges, and thus cutting a way through. Certainly as regards John George of Saxony it meant turning the neutrality of that state, with its army of 40,000 men, into active enmity, and bringing it down on the Imperial side, from which it was now working adrift. Statecraft and strategy most emphatically said no. As a mere problem of tactics and logistics it is held that the Swedes might, by outraging all convention, have succeeded in forcing their way across the rivers. There have been leaders who could and would have done it at all costs, but Gustavus above all things had the gift of sanity and the due balancing of “ I would ” against “ I can.” The cause on which he was staking his all was bigger than the mere loss of Magdeburg, and it is to be remembered that the premature call to arms, for which the administrator in his zeal was responsible, had been no part of the plans of the Swedish King.

On the other hand, the fact that the fall of the town meant the massacre of 40,000 Protestant souls could have been imagined by few. Had that result been expected from the tender ruth of Tilly, no doubt a rescue at all hazards would have been attempted. So vocative had been the disgust of all at the Diet of Ratisbon over the excesses of Wallenstein’s Imperial troops, that it was to be expected that some curb would have been placed on them. A successful storming of Magdeburg at the worst should have meant the putting to the sword of a large number of the defenders, and a partial sack, but a complete holocaust of so large a population must have been undreamt of.

We may now suitably turn to the record of what Gustavus actually did do. We may bear in mind that at this time he was in some administrative difficulties—those difficulties which are so real at the time and so disregarded in history. The current year’s crops were barely in the ground, devastated Pomerania, however prompt the Swedish payment, had little left to sell, and the Imperialists in withdrawing had purposely destroyed even the winter supplies of the inhabitants. Gustavus had often to feed the people as well as his army. The men had been through considerable hardships, and even the Swedish discipline had been tried. Supplies from Prussia and Sweden had not been coming up too freely, and transportation, except by boat, was a difficult winter problem. Thoroughly as the King was organising what in these days we should call his “ Q ” or Quartermaster-General’s services, it was not till 1631 that these attained the efficiency that was to keep his larger armies going.

When Tilly, advancing, as related, to the relief of Frankfurt, heard of the fall of that town, he had returned to Magdeburg, and Gustavus made ready to follow him. Hom was left in command on the Oder, with his headquarters at Custrin, specially charged with welding recruits from Sweden and Pomerania into new units. The King then proceeded from Custrin to endeavour to persuade his brother-in-law to give him control of Spandau and Custrin, at any rate for the period necessary to relieve Magdeburg. George William hesitated and procrastinated, while Pappenheim was pressing sorely his brother-Protestants. Gustavus could stand it no longer. Advancing to Kopinek on the road to Berlin by May 1st with ten regiments, he directed all his forces on that rendezvous. But the Elector knew that the Imperialists were collecting in Silesia, that large reinforcements were coming up from Italy, and, taking counsel of his fears, refused passage to the Swedes. Gustavus then led a division of his army to the immediate vicinity of Berlin, and at the invitation of his mother-in-law entered the city. Then the Elector alone, without the support of Saxony or the Empire, yielded, and gave up his fortresses for the period required. Even then George William wrote an apologetic letter to the Emperor. With Spandau in his hands, Gustavus marched forthwith for the Bridge of Dessau, hoping to gain at least the same concessions from the Elector of Saxony, whose territory the road now traversed, but Saxony absolutely refused to allow the use of the bridge at Dessau, which as a matter of fact had been broken down by the Imperialists, or that at Wittenburg. The only other road, but also through Saxony, was by Mockern and Brandenburg, a country absolutely barren of supplies, with which, indeed, Gustavus himself at that moment was ill provided.

In vain Gustavus urged and pleaded with John George on behalf of Magdeburg. That Prince absolutely refused, and it is not difficult to see that the Protestant States as a whole, and especially the Elector John George, still looked on Gustavus as likely eventually to leave them in the lurch as badly as King Christian of Denmark by his military ineptitude had done. Even the capture of Frankfurt did not put the military reputation and power to continue of Gustavus as yet beyond doubt. Much as it is possible to sympathise with Gustavus during this long period of disappointment, yet it is also possible to realise the good grounds for the Protestant caution. Indeed, it is the high-handedness of Tilly in the period about to ensue, with the warning of Magdeburg before them, that perhaps first turned the scales of opinion in Swedish favour.

The Aftermath

And so, while Gustavus was in vain trying to be allowed to debouch from Saxony, the town of Magdeburg had fallen and all was woe, and it became very necessary to take stock of the position. It seemed probable that the victorious Imperialists, flushed with their victory, would now press forward to endeavour to bring the Swedes to a general engagement.

Gustavus was anxious to continue and extend his operations to the Elbe, but the Elector of Brandenburg now demanded the rendition of Spandau as agreed on, as the occasion for which it had been delivered to Swedish hands had passed. It was accordingly handed back, but at the same time Gustavus, out of all patience with his brother-in-law, determined to bring matters to a head, and he marched with his whole force to Berlin, brought his guns into action against the city, and demanded to know whether in future he was to consider Brandenburg as ally or enemy. On June 9th, the King’s trumpeter entered the city to deliver the message in due form, while the Swedish gunners could be seen with their matches alight standing by their pieces outside the walls. The inhabitants were thrown into consternation, and a deputation of women, headed by the Dowager Electress, filed from the town to plead with the King. For three days the Elector procrastinated, till at last Gustavus demanded an immediate reply under pain of the city being delivered up to pillage.

The mission of the women, however, was not without its results, and the King was induced to lessen the terms of his ultimatum. They were reduced to the following, viz. the rendition of Spandau, the right of way Custrin, and a monthly contribution of 30,000 crowns. The diplomatic George William, however, must needs write a letter of exculpation to the Emperor, in which he trusted that his submission to the imperative demands of the Swedes was not a breach of his allegiance. The reply from the Emperor was not cordial. Ferdinand wrote that had there been more cohesion in the Empire, the spectacle of a foreign army roaming at will in Germany and oppressing timid electors would not have been seen, and concluded by denouncing the Conclusions of Leipsic, since which, he declared, his soldiers had been treated as enemies in every part of the Protestant States.

But the success at Magdeburg had undoubtedly hardened the Emperor’s heart against his constituent states of the reformed faith, and he was now about to issue a formal decree declaring the Conclusions of Leipsic as null and void. It cannot be said that this in itself was a very effective measure, since all the signatories to those Conclusions could never have expected that they were anything but frankly hostile to the Empire, and that the Evangelical Union existed for no other purpose than at least passive resistance to all Imperial decrees. The Catholic League, while at one time prepared to propitiate the Protestants, or at least to extend to them what in their mind, if not in that of the Protestants, was propitiatory treatment, now declared openly for compulsion and persecution. Magdeburg was the sign, and they now declared that too long had the Emperor put up with contumacy, and urged him to compel the states of the Evangelical Union to return to their ancient obedience, both temporal and religious. At a general meeting of the principal Catholic supporters of the Empire at Dinkelsbuhl, these views were formally presented to Ferdinand, who, little loath, now ordered Tilly to advance against any of the princes or states who should refuse to renounce the Conclusions of Leipsic, and to hand out to all who did not submit a fate similar to that which had overtaken the once Maiden Town. And there is no doubt that it was the abandoning of any shreds of compunction or better judgment that brought Ferdinand to his ruin, and the Protestant states without exception, in heart, if not possibly in fact, into the hands of Gustavus.

At this juncture the King had returned to Stettin to meet an embassy from Moscow. The truce between Sweden and Muscovy was due to expire, and both parties were anxious to renew it. Indeed the Muscovites were anxious to send a contingent to assist Gustavus in his enterprise. This, however, he was able to refuse. A Muscovite contingent was not likely to conform to his ideas of seemly behaviour towards the inhabitants, and might demoralise his own troops. Nevertheless, congratulations were received and compliments exchanged and the armistice was renewed indefinitely. When Gustavus returned to Germany, he learnt that Tilly, rather than move against the Swedes, was in process of carrying out his new instructions, and had commenced his crusade by advancing against the Bishop of Bremen, who, lest worse befall, assented to the decree abrogating the Conclusions. Similar pressure was brought against Wurtemberg by reinforcements of Imperial troops under Count Furstemberg which were marching up from Italy. The unfortunate administrator of that Duchy was compelled to abjure all that the Protestant States stood for, handsomely on behalf of his Duchy. He consented to all Imperial decrees, even agreeing to accept the Edict of Restitution, and to contribute 100,000 crowns a month to the Imperial coffers. The city of Ulm was obliged to follow suit, and the State of Swabia, which had raised 3000 men for the defence of the Evangelical Union, was ordered to disband them, and could but acquiesce.

The bullying of the small boys did not help the Imperial case, but it caused even John George of Saxony to realise that the hour had come when he must decide. He urged the states approached by Furstemberg to resist, but few small folk dare stand unsupported against Furstemberg’s peremptory orders, “Renunciation and submission or no quarter.”

While this was in progress Gustavus in Stettin set forth to see to the capture of Greifswald, the last Imperial stronghold in Pomerania, which was being besieged by Actatius Todt. On his way thither came the satisfactory news of its fall, and Gustavus returned post haste to the Brandenburg Marches, with the intention of moving to regain the ruins and territory of the Magdeburg Duchy. His divisions had been assembling at Brandenburg, and the while Gustavus was in Stettin, Bauditzen with sixteen cornets of horse had proceeded to Rathenau on the Spree, and from thence, in addition to covering the movements of the Swedes generally from the Imperial ken, had put the whole country round under requisition wherever it was in Imperial occupation. He had even penetrated to the right bank of the Elbe near Tangemunde, driving the Imperial detachments before him till dose to the gates of Magdeburg, whereon Pappenheim sallied forth to meet him, and was severely handled and driven under the walls of the town by the Rhinegrave Otto Lewis. The Imperial commander was now fairly apprehensive that Gustavus himself was to follow, and sent a message to Tilly that he must return at once unless he wished the Swedes to overrun the whole Duchy of Magdeburg.

The Freeing of Mecklenburg

With Greifswald taken, Gustavus, while returning to the Elbe himself, was at last able to pursue his design of freeing Mecklenburg and reinstating the Dukes. Todt had taken Greifswald at the end of June. As a reward for this service, and in view of his increasing army, Todt was made a field-marshal and entrusted with the clearing of Mecklenburg. Soldiers will appreciate the fortune that was now to come to all those trained officers of the Swedish nucleus who were fit for it, in rapid promotion as brigades expanded to divisions and divisions to armies, and we shall see several of the well-known names of the Polish wars rising to high preferment and great success.

With a suitable cavalry screen and advanced guard before him, the new field-marshal marched for Mecklenburg on a broad front, carried in succession Butzow and Schwan, drove the Imperialists before him, and at last blockaded Rostock, at which the King had aimed a year before. Turning south with a portion of his army, Todt now carried Mirow and Plau, and stretched out a hand to the Dukes who were waiting with some troops they had raised in Lubeck. Mecklenburg was thus clear, with the exception of Rostock, Wismar and Domitz, and for a short while longer Schwerin and Gustrow. By July 5th Schwerin had fallen, and the Dukes were reinstated, and many of the captured Imperialists were enrolled in the Swedish Army.

While this was in progress Baner, who had been left behind the Havel with three brigades, screened by the cornets of Bauditzen, proceeded to capture Havelsburg and make easy the debouchment on the left bank of that river. Horn was left in charge of the left on the Warta and the Oder, but ordered to recruit up as best he could, to send all his best troops to the concentration behind the Havel, and to prepare a second line of fortification if compelled to retire by the growing Imperial forces in Silesia. Gustavus, however, would swing across to his assistance if severely attacked. During June the Queen of Sweden had crossed to Stettin with 8000 sturdy Swedish reinforcements, and about the same time the contingent promised by Charles I arrived from England, 6000 strong, under the Earl of Hamilton. Unfortunately it arrived on the Peene River instead of on the Weser, as Gustavus had wished.

Tilly Marches South

In pursuance of the relentless orders of Ferdinand, Tilly, believing Gustavus fairly beset with his own troubles, now turned south through the Thuringen Wald to compel those smaller Protestant States which lay between Bavaria and the Rhine, and especially to deal with Hesse, whose Landgrave had so persistently resisted the Empire, and who had hitherto escaped chastisement. He believed that he could overrun Weimar, Gotha and Hesse before there could be any need to turn back to meet Gustavus. His passage through the Hartz mountains was not to be an easy one, for the mountaineers were determined to avenge the horrors of Magdeburg. Stragglers and convoys were cut off and massacred as ruthlessly as had been the defenceless folk of that city. Descending into Thuringia in no pleasant mood, the Imperialists outdid all former attempts at desolation, and Weimar was cruelly pillaged. The town of Frankenhausen was laid in ashes, and then Tilly, moving to Mulhausen, summoned the Landgrave of Hesse to admit five regiments into Hesse, to surrender the town of Cassel and the fortress of Zienhayn, and to dismiss his levies or send them to the Imperial army. He was also to be prepared to comply with levies of cash and supplies.

The Landgrave of Hesse, however, was of finer metal than many whom Tilly was wont to bully, and not only sent a refusal, but even ventured too pleasant with his formidable adversary, especially on the undesirability of admitting such troops into his peaceful dominions, and indeed made fun of all the demands. The emissary from the Imperial Generalissimo was so taken aback at being thus received, that he asked for the reply in writing, which the Landgrave readily gave. Tilly, furious at this, vowed to treat the Hessians as he had treated Magdeburg, whereon the inhabitants fell back before him, laying the districts waste. The want of supplies thus caused delayed the vengeance of the Imperialist, and then did Tilly find that he must return to meet Gustavus, who was advancing on Magdeburg, in which lay Pappenheim with a few thousand men. Hesse in the meantime thus escaped the vengeance which its spirited Landgrave had, perhaps unnecessarily, in his isolated situation, provoked.

IX.—

THE STRATEGIC POSITION ON THE ELBE

The Strategical Plans of Gustavus—A Survey of the Swedish Position—The Swedish Entrenchment at Wirben—The Arrival of the British Contingent—The Attempted Dragooning of Saxony by Tilly—The Appeal of the Elector of Saxony —Gustavus Marches forthwith to join the Saxons—The Rival Annies,

The Strategical Plans of Gustavus

T0 those for whom war and strategy must be expressed in terms of definite and set plans and purpose there will be much that is disappointing in the story of the Swedish ventures and movements in North Germany since the first landing at the mouth of the Frische Haff of the Oder in June 1630. No masterly control of the main roads, no seizure of key points and master passes has been chronicled, but rather a confused movement from east to west and back again, and then a waiting on time and circumstances very different from the brilliant dreams of a world compeller. Apart from the fact that very often these brilliant schemes are not actually set forth to the admiring world till the events have proved themselves, it will be well if we bear in mind how little such plans could possibly enter into the actual facts and happenings as they unrolled themselves in Pomerania.

When Gustavus first set forth, it is true that the King thought, or at least hoped, that he would be joined by most of the Protestant States and their armies. In this hope he had framed a scheme of optimistic action that was far from what eventually proved to be feasible. He had visions of advancing into Germany in five columns, each column made up of those forces lying nearest to or arriving at a particular route. Two armies were to advance, for instance, up the valley of the Oder on each bank, two similarly up the Elbe, and a fifth, composed largely of the contingents from the Netherlands and England, up the Weser. Oxenstiern from the outset had thought this conception grandiose and beyond the reach of practical policy, and events soon showed him to be right, for it was to be the best part of eighteen months before the accessions to the armies of the Swedish King at all approached the numbers that such movements would demand.

As has been related, the accessions of troops and the allies forthcoming were only too few, and the invaders had to struggle, their small expeditionary force almost unaided, for room to manoeuvre and space to live. For the first six months, indeed, the scheme of operations was little more than covered by the Napoleonic phrase “ on s’engage et on voit.” In fact it became increasingly necessary, as the situation cleared, for a systematic making good of territory step by step, and a gaining of a base and hinterland, in which magazines could be established and communications improved. And further, as the months rolled on, we see how Gustavus had reluctantly to recognise that districts he left behind him might easily be re-occupied by the enemy, seated in countries on both flanks of his advance, immediately he had passed through, as a boat cleaveth for a moment only the water. This meant that every area had to be made good, and its flanks doubly secured, before the next strategic bound forward was possible. All through the Swedish advance, even after the great successes of 1631, the same applied, preventing those brilliant strokes which at times seemed to some of the onlookers to be within his power to affect. Most marked was this after the phenomenal victory at Leipsic. Even Oxenstiern the cautious thought that Vienna lay at his feet. Gustavus knew that for hundreds of miles on the flanks of his long road from his sea bases Imperial forces in being might yet cut him hopelessly adrift, and lose for him all the security that his careful quartermastering had gained him. Vienna was not of necessity the Emperor, and its possession did not mean the end, and therefore to Vienna he would not go till he had cleared up the enemy behind him. The risks of defeat far from home were so great that Gustavus had long made up his mind that he must make good his way step by step, line after line, river after river. Having made good the Oder and the Havel and the Spree, we can now see him following this same deliberate course on the Elbe.

A Survey of the Swedish Position

When Gustavus returned to Spandau from Stettin, and decided to advance to the Elbe, the condition of caution explained still faced him, and he had need to study his position very closely. His responsibilities were constantly increasing, as was the front he had to cover, while his forces and his resources, increasing though they were, did not keep pace with the situation. Nor as yet had there been many more declarations in his favour that were important, than when he first landed, other than in areas which his own occupation covered, nor, with the example of Magdeburg, were there likely to be any. Only in distant Hesse was the sturdy Landgrave tempting his fate by the energy of his actions. It seemed therefore, for the moment, that Gustavus would do well to secure what he had gained, and continue the organisation of his armies, his supplies and cash resources. Fortunately the great rivers were a fair bulwark to those who held the bridges, and he had now gained that bastion from the Baltic shores which had always seemed to him necessary if Scandinavia, and especially his own portion thereof, was to be secure from a triumphant and aggressive Catholic supremacy. The Oder-Warta and the Havel-Spree rivers were now his line of defence and the frontier of his acquisitions. It only needed for the Elbe to be in his hands from the junction of the Havel to the sea for him to be secure, and for his proteges of Pomerania and Mecklenburg and his hesitating ally of Brandenburg to be safe and covered. This position would also allow him room to return if need be to his original conception of a march by the Elbe and the Oder, and later by the Weser, and thus to relieve the Bishop of Bremen from his humiliating capitulation.

But an essential condition for such a position to be acceptable for a while, would be a camp from which he could debouch on either side of the river, with facilities for movement in an effective direction on the Imperial side of the rivers that provided the defensive line. This he was to find after his advance to Tangermunde, which has been referred to. An advance to the Elbe was necessary if his resting position was to be secure for the winter, and it was more urgently and immediately necessary if his constant though distant ally of Hesse was to be saved. Arriving in Spandau on July 2nd, he pushed out forthwith with 7000 foot and 3000 horse for Burg, where he hoped Pappenheim might be tempted to sally from Magdeburg. Thence he marched to Jerikow, opposite Tangermunde, where there was an Imperial outpost, arriving on July 8th. On the 9th he marched upstream again, as if making for Magdeburg, an old but oft successful feint, and Pappenheim marched up to meet him. Gustavus doubled back, crossed his men in boats, captured Tangermunde and its castle, Stendal and Arneburg, collected boats, built a bridge, marched his army across, and found his bridge-head and sally port downstream on the left bank of the Elbe, at Wirben, close to its junction with the Havel.

To Gustavus’ satisfaction, the vicinity of Wirben seemed extraordinarily well suited for his purpose of an entrenched camp, and he marvelled that no one had found it before him. Bridges and fortified bridge-heads were thrown out on both banks and over both rivers, so that complete freedom of manoeuvre was obtained, with the immunity from attack that a deep river affords. The defensive lines constructed across the chord of the river bend included Wirben, and were soon entrenched with the thoroughness for which the Swedish sappers were noted. The story is told that the Imperialist prisoners captured by Bauditzen and others from the various small garrisons —men who had been ruthlessly putting to the sword all who fell into their hands—were brought in for the King’s orders. As he came among them they fell on their knees in supplication, for no doubt their guards had promised them the King’s vengeance. “ Get up,” he exclaimed. “ I am no god to fall before. You are all brigands, but I spare your lives,” and no doubt the better of them were passed to the Swedish ranks, even as Kitchener after Khartoum enlisted the Mahdi’s Sudanese forthwith, for great Commanders weld men to their purposes, and there are better uses to put men to than hanging.

It was in the mind of the King that he should now push on to Magdeburg, as it was above all important to relieve the pressure on Hesse, but he was not yet strong enough to risk too much, and his men were sick and short of supplies. The want of Protestant support, however, so long withheld, was depressing, and indeed those months of July and August 1631 in his new lines were perhaps the worst that he had passed, though, as ever, his outward mien and bearing were reassuring. The actual forcing of the passage of the Elbe had had the necessary effect in bringing Tilly back in answer to Pappenheim’s call, that in modem jargon would be referred to as his well-chosen lines in front of Wirben were shortly to give the King the opportunity to read the old Walloon the lesson that he had yet to learn.

The Swedish Entrenchment at Wirben

Count Pappenheim at Magdeburg had called on Tilly to return to his assistance, which the old soldier did forthwith, for the consciences of both made cowards of them. The aim of Gustavus for relieving Hesse had thus the desired effect. Tilly now faced Gustavus with 27,000 men, and there seemed some likelihood that the two great soldiers would meet. The former, having joined with the Magdeburg garrison, took post at Wolmirstad below that town, and sent three regiments of horse to reconnoitre the Swedish position. The King, as we have seen, was a master of sanity, and not likely to risk the 16,000 men he had at Wirben by an unnecessary fight with a force twice his own strength, but a decoy of isolated cavalry was another matter. He had concentrated his own mounted troops at Ameberg, five miles up-river, and from there emerged in person with 4000 men in three columns under the Rhinegrave, Bauditzen and himself. The Imperial horse were holding three separate villages, and each column fell on one of them, practically destroying the Imperialists in every case. Gustavus, as usual, was absolutely reckless, and nearly lost his life, but led his men back to Stendal and Wirben immensely elated, while the Imperialists were correspondingly depressed.

Tilly was not likely to sit down under so sharp a rap on the knuckles, and on August 6th moved up to the immediate vicinity of the Swedish position at Wirben with 15,000 foot and 7000 horse, drew up in front thereof and opened fire with sixteen heavy guns. False information led him to believe that if he attacked on a certain portion of the front he would find the Swedish guns spiked and dumb. Tilly ordered his men to the assault on August 7th, but found that the Swedish guns were eloquent enough. The Imperial troops, however, set on in earnest, and were beaten oft with heavy loss, while Bauditzen, leading out his horse from a sally-way, fell on the flanks of the enemy with great effect, the young Duke Bernard of Saxe-Weimar heading the onslaught.

There was little to be gained by further effort, and Tilly, who had lost 6000 men at the hands of the Swedes, now learnt that Hom with 9000 more men was marching up from the Oder to join his master, and hastily retired to lick his wounds at Wolmirstad, having for the first time in his life when commanding in person suffered a sharp defeat. Added to this his troops were deserting and it was in no enviable frame of mind that he decided to abstain from further activity.

In Wirben the King was prepared also to rest awhile; he had secured his line, and could now go forward with the training of more troops, and lest anyone should think that his year’s adventure in Germany had brought him but little accession of strength, let us remember that it was with but 13,000 men that he had landed in Germany little more than a twelve-month earlier on his very daring adventure.

The Arrival of the British Contingent

It has been related how for some time Gustavus had been in negotiation with the King of England for assistance both in men and money, and how, while Gustavus was in his lines at Wirben, an English force of 6000 men, under the command of the Earl of Hamilton, arrived. Unfortunately, this force, instead of coming, as Gustavus had desired, into the Weser or the Elbe, whence he could have conveniently brought it up to his main force, must needs come to the Peene, near the mouth of the Oder, by no means a convenient spot from whence to transport it southward. The Earl of Hamilton, however, came up to Wirben, and was received by the King in great style and with every dignity, while Gustavus explained to him the military and political situation. He also made it clear that in view of the English force being on the Oder it would be necessary for the present for them to join Horn on that river. It has been said that Gustavus was annoyed at the tardy arrival of this reinforcement and that Charles I had not sent the financial aid expected. He certainly had not realised the embarrassment in which Charles was already involved at home. Whatever the true reasons, this force of English, with whom were many gentlemen afterwards renowned in the Civil War, did not cover itself with distinction. It was not well found, and whether the climate of the Oder was too unfavourable, it dwindled down in a few months from sickness to some 1500 men, and we do not hear of it having taken part in any of the more illustrious doings of the period. It was not, however, the only English force to join the Swedes, quite apart from the Scottish regiments so prominent in the earlier deeds of daring recorded.

Indeed, it seems that the Earl of Hamilton may have been at fault, for he soon became involved in constant disputes with the Swedes on matters of precedence and etiquette, which so experienced and war-worn soldiers as the Swedes were not likely to consider very patiently. Later, when brought over to the Elbe, to join Baner before Magdeburg, he did not get on much better, and in 1632 led his contingent, which had dwindled to 500 men, back to England.

The Attempted Compelling of Saxony by Tilly

No sooner had Tilly, burning with anger at his reverse, reached Wolmirstad, than he received news that the Imperial reinforcements which had been marching up from Italy under Furstemberg, Aidringer and Fugger were about to join him. They had committed untold atrocities in Swabia and Francona, in compelling the South German States of the Protestant persuasion, and the head of their columns had now crossed the Maine. The arrival of these troops, the veterans of the campaign before Mantua, brought Tilly’s forces up to 40,000, while Gustavus at Wirben, despite the arrival of the troops from Hom, could not muster more than 16,000. The Emperor now felt himself strong enough to force a decision from Saxony, and ordered Tilly to call upon John George to bring his troops to join the Imperial forces. His ambassadors to the Elector at Merseburg complained that most of the Protestant States were raising troops against him as the result of the lead given by the Elector at the Diet of Leipsic. He therefore directed Tilly, before marching against Gustavus, to proceed towards Leipsic and compel the Elector to submit to the Imperial orders. Tilly accordingly advanced by way of Ahlesleben to Halle, and there disposed his troops to ravage the country up to the gates of Leipsic.

John George had now 16,000 men at his disposal, and was not prepared to hand them over to the Emperor. He gave his answer to the Imperial deputies at a banquet, at which, after his wont, he had imbibed somewhat freely, and felt full of courage. He informed his guests that his preparations had been made for the defence of the Protestant religion, and that he did not in the least recognise the right of Count Tilly to call his conduct into question, and, further, he remarked that the Emperor, after devouring the lesser Protestant states, appeared now inclined to take him as dessert. He was then insulting to the deputies. Next morning his prudence returned, and he sent to Tilly a letter, which, while omitting to specify his intentions, aimed at gaining time, while he sent Count Arnheim post haste to Gustavus to urge him to advance to the assistance of Saxony before the Imperialists commenced to ravage his territories.

But Tilly was now determined neither to lose nor give more time, and at once ordered his troops to march on Leipsic, plundering as they went, sending a trumpeter with a message insisting on his demands, but actually allowing his troops to commence their depredations before any answer could be received. He left his encampments on September 2nd, and, appearing before Leipsic, demanded the surrender of the city. The magistrates testified their surprise at these hostilities, as well they might. Tilly would have no more parley, and demanded immediate admittance. And then, despite the lesson of Magdeburg, it seemed as though the leaven of Gustavus was working, for the magistrates hardened their hearts and refused, even setting fire to the suburbs without the walls, so that the main body of the Imperial troops were obliged to camp some way from the flames. But gallant and high- spirited as were the burghers and their magistrates, the opening by Tilly of heavy batteries on September 4th and the determined nature of the attacks, which they at first resisted manfully enough, compelled them to ask for terms. As Tilly had news of the advance of Saxons and Swedes to relieve the town, he offered reasonable capitulation, and the gates were opened to him.

The Appeal to the Elector of Saxony

At last the moment for which Gustavus had so long waited was about to arrive, as Count Arnheim, the messenger of John George, presented himself at the Swedish headquarters, but the King showed no immediate hurry to accede to the supplications for help. The Count was informed that the crisis in which the Elector now found himself had long been predicted by Gustavus and constantly put before the Elector, and that had the latter but realised what must happen, Magdeburg would not have been in ashes nor the Elector in such straits. Count Arnheim had expected more alacrity on the part of Gustavus to ally himself with Saxony, and again forcibly explained his master’s predicament. Gustavus then announced the conditions under which he would accede. The fortress of Wittemburg and the crossing of the Elbe must be placed in his hands, to afford a support in case of disaster, the Elector’s eldest son must be sent to the Swedish camp as a hostage, the Swedish troops must be maintained at Saxon cost for three months, and all those Saxon councillors who had supported the Empire must be handed over to Gustavus. Arnheim took these terms to John George, and returned forthwith with the Elector’s acquiescence. “ The whole of Saxony, let alone Wittemburg, should be his, all his family if required might be given up as hostages and Saxony would meet every charge that Gustavus might demand.” The King was now satisfied of the genuineness of the Elector’s wishes and intentions. He explained how the circumstances of Magdeburg had made him somewhat sceptical of the Elector’s intentions, but now that he was satisfied he would bring his whole weight to the support of Saxony. John George followed up his protestations with a declaration under his hand and seal, setting forth that since Count Tilly, contrary to the laws of the Empire, had forced an entry to his dominions, he must needs apply for foreign aid, and that the moment the King of Sweden should cross the Elbe he would join him with all his force and act under his command, and he also set forth therein that he would open all his fortresses to Gustavus and feed the Swedish armies so long as they remained in Saxony. It was, in fact, a handsome document, though discounted in value by the extreme fear under which it was written, but it was what Gustavus had so long waited for, and what he had foreseen must come to pass.

Gustavus Marches Forthwith to Join the Saxons

Gustavus now set forth with the greatest promptitude to join the Saxons, crossing the Elbe at Wittenberg on September 13th, with all the force he could muster. Unfortunately, even after Hom had joined him with all the veterans he could scrape up on the Oder, the disposable field army did not number more than 16,000 men, after the compulsory garrisons had been deducted. With 16,000 men and the help of the Saxons Gustavus was prepared to meet the 40,000 Imperialists that were now known to be with Tilly. John George was likewise hastening up from Torgau, and the two armies were to unite at Duben, a few miles north of Leipsic. By evening Kernburg had been reached, and on the 14th Duben, while on the 15th the Elector of Saxony and his troops arrived in the same vicinity. Gustavus rode over to greet him, and inspected the Saxon army, which consisted of six regiments of foot and six of horse, numbering some 20,000 men. The Saxons were magnificently dressed and accoutred and made a very brave show. Then a joint inspection of the Swedish army took place, but covered with dust through crossing fields of friable soil, and equipped in its war-worn uniforms, its outward appearance could not vie with the unsoiled bravery of Saxony.

A council of war was held to decide the course to be taken. Gustavus was for manoeuvring awhile to tire the Imperialists, but the Elector was all for immediate battle. To this wish, only too truly after his own heart, Gustavus agreed, and it was decided to march next day to the relief of Leipsic. In the twilight of the 6th the combined armies arrived at Wolkau, close to Leipsic, only to learn that that very day, as already related, the city, which had not received the messages from the Elector, had surrendered. The armies rested the night at Wolkau, and in the morning marched forth towards Leipsic, till on a plain in front of the town they saw the whole of the Imperial army drawn up for battle.

We have the letters of no less a person than the King himself to give us the necessary colour to capture the scene. “ In the early twilight of the 6th we passed through Duben, and reached the hamlet of Wolkau, one and a half miles (these were German miles, longer than the English ones) from Leipsic, and here we rested over night. On the 7th in the grey of the morning I ordered the trumpets to sound the march, as between us and Leipsic there were no woods. I deployed the army into battle order and marched towards that city. After an hour and a half’s march we saw the enemy’s vanguard with artillery, on a hill in our front, and behind it the bulk of his army.”

The Rival Armies

The states and returns of the Saxon and Swedish Army are not extant, but the approximate numbers are well enough known, though the various authorities differ somewhat. The joint Protestant forces may have been close on 45,000 men, while that of the Imperialists was perhaps 5000 less. The Swedish official list gives a total of 26,600 men in line, of whom 19,000 were foot and 7700 horse, and the Saxons mustered some 18,000. Some accounts, however, have made the aggregate substantially less on both sides. The Swedes, efficiently equipped and properly clad, were nevertheless war-worn and weather- stained, and looked dull enough compared with the Saxon army, but it took but twenty-four hours to see wherein soldiering worth lay, for the Saxon rank and file had little recent war training and war discipline, despite all their brave appearance.

The army of Count Tilly was also well equipped, and resembled in its turn-out something of the gaud of the Saxons, but it had as well, beneath the baldricks, seasoned, disciplined soldiers, and officers and commanders of great experience. Many of the men had followed the “ old corporal ” for years, and old though he was—well past three-score years and ten—he had the immense prestige of having never lost a battle.

The rough handling which he had received from Gustavus in front of the lines of Wirben was not enough to dull the gleam of his arms and reputation, though it made the respect he had always felt for the Swedish King as a soldier all the deeper, and he was more than anxious to wipe off that little affair from his score. Indeed, he hoped that if he could only bring off a pitched battle, he would be able to settle the Swedish nuisance once and for all, and the fact that now he was barely outnumbered and that half his adversaries were untried Saxons made him confident enough of the result. But three-score years and twelve is a full age for leading an army against an active young enemy, and by this much the dice were loaded against him.

The desire to get to grips with his younger adversary was likely to be fully satisfied, for Gustavus also was only too ready to receive all the hard knocks that the " old corporal ” could give him, confident in the belief that his mobile troops, trained in his system of fire effect and manoeuvre, would give him victory over the older methods of Spain that held in the Imperial army.

It was therefore with some confidence that both sides spent the night in billet and bivouac, the Swedes, as was their wont, not forgetting in their evening prayers to commit their prospects to the will of the Almighty, and the more earnest Catholics to be shriven and blessed before the conflict.

X.—

THE FAMOUS BATTLE OF LEIPSIC OR BREITENFELD

The Deployment for Battle on the Plain of Leipsic—The Opening Phases of the Battle—Tilly’s Main Attack and the Counterstroke of Gustavus—After the Battle—Gustavus Summons a Protestant Council—The Catholic States.

The Deployment for Battle on the Plain of Leipsic

THE great plain north of the town of Leipsic was admirably suited for the manoeuvring of armies. Five miles out from the town to the northward the plain rose gently to a slight ridge, which looked down on the somewhat marshy stream of the Loberbach, astride the road from Wolkau to Leipsic. Two small villages lay close to the stream, Podelwitz and Gobshelwitz respectively, the former a mile west of the road, the latter a mile to the east of it. Tilly had had this ridge reconnoitred and prepared for occupation, realising that it was an ideal spot on which to fight his great battle of victory. Its distance a mile and a half from the stream would compel his adversaries to fight him with the stream immediately behind them, which must give his victory crushing results. The ridge had sufficient command to allow of his powerful if cumbrous artillery having a full view of the field, while his flanks were secured by the villages of Seehausen and Breitenfeld in rear of right and left respectively. Early on September yth the Imperial troops moved out from their camps and billets to take up the position described, the arrival of Swedes and Saxons a.t Duben having been duly reported.

In the early grey of the same morning the Protestant Ivanced on a wide front towards the Loberbach, hidden from the enemy by clouds of dust which rose from the dry September fields.

The Swedish march, as usual, had been preceded by prayer at the head of the regiments and brigades, and as the King’s letter quoted in the last chapter tells us, after an hour and a half of marching, the great black masses of the Imperial troops on the rising ground beyond the stream came into view, the wind and the rising sun behind them, and a stem and imposing scene it must have been, as Count Tilly, like Napoleon at Waterloo, rode slowly down his line amid enthusiastic shouts of “ Father Tilly.” The confident cheering of the troops was borne on the south wind across the stream to the Swedes and Saxons as they broke into column to cross the defiles over the Loberbach, and pushed back the light horse with which Pappenheim held the line of the stream.

Steadily and almost leisurely the allies filed over and deployed in front of the Imperial line, the Swedes on the right and the Saxons on the left, Gustavus taking care that there should be sufficient interval between his own army and the Saxons to ensure that no untoward surging of the latter should impede his own troops.

The dark masses of the Imperial troops were drawn up in one long line of seventeen battalions 1 in mass, fifty files ten deep, after the Spanish fashion, with the heavy horse on the flanks and the Croats and other light horse interspersed among the battalia. Pappenheim, with his renowned black cuirassiers, was on the left, and Furstemberg, with the cavalry just arrived from Italy, on the right. These two commanders, in addition to their own bodies of horse, commanded the right and left wing respectively, Father Tilly having the centre under his personal direction. The number of guns in the great battery on the ridge is not known. The Swedes took twenty-six of them, but there must have been considerably more. The long, gaily equipped line of Imperialists had apparently no formed reserve, but, as was Tilly’s intention, it considerably overlapped that of the Protestant forces. Pappenheim’s cuirassiers, in their black armour void of any colour, were visible and imposing as the Swedes deployed and advanced their line up the slope from the stream.

Under fire from the Imperial artillery, the Swedes and Saxons formed their line, and when the deployment was complete not half a mile lay between them. Gustavus took his Swedes well over to the right, partly to avoid the dust that blew from the champing feet of the enemy’s horse, but also, as explained, to get well clear of the Saxon line, from which the road Duben to Leipsic served as a dividing mark. The Swedish line, like that of the Imperialists, consisted of two wings and a centre, but both the wings were largely horse, with bodies of “ commanded,” otherwise detached musketeers in between.

The right wing was commanded by Baner, now a field-marshal and second-in-command to the King. Five cavalry corps in mass formed the first line under Todt, with one regiment in local reserve. Four more formed the second line, In the centre were four brigades of infantry under Winkel, Carl Hall, Teuffel and Ake Oxenstiern, with a regiment of horse, and Monro’s and Ramsey’s Scottish foot in reserve. In the second line were three more brigades of foot, one Scottish under Hepburn and two German under Vitzhum and Thurn. Behind again in reserve were two more regiments of horse. On the left under Hom, now also a field-marshal, three cavalry corps in mass, with bodies of 200 commanded musketeers in between, formed the first line, with no reserve. In the second line were two more horse regiments with more commanded musketeers. The regimental guns were in front of their units, while the army artillery was in action on the left centre under Torstensen.

There are no details extant as to the Saxon line, except that it had its infantry in the centre and horse on both flanks, for their ignominious failure wiped out the desire for record. The total Protestant line must have been well over three miles long, the Imperialists something more, and the student will readily draw a parallel between this battle and the even more famous field of Waterloo. The general appearance must have been not dissimilar, for the range of gun and musket fire was not materially different, the mass formations and mass versus line, that were a feature in the struggle between Napoleon and the Allies, were here represented, and the lightly equipped Swedish musketeers upheld the same principle as the thin British line. But it is on the weak left wing that the parallel must especially rest, the Swedish forces resembling the British and Hanoverians, who fought the fight out when the troops of the other states had left the field.

The Opening Phases of the Battle

As soon as Gustavus, who was dressed in plain grey, with no distinguishing mark save a green feather, saw that the lines were formed, not long after high twelve, he dismounted and knelt in front of his line before the eyes of all his army, and prayed for support and mercy, while all within hearing responded devoutly. Mounting once more, the King then led his line forward a bit nearer to the Imperial position, and ordered his own guns to open on the enemy who had so long tormented the deploying army. For over two hours the artillery duel continued, Tilly waiting patiently until the Swedes and Saxons should feel ready to attack his own serried squares. Pappenheim had resumed his place in the line, after holding the stream, and grew impatient at the long detents. At last he moved out his 5000 horse without any reference, it is said, to his chief, and proceeded to launch a fierce attack on Baner’s position. When Pappenheim moved them, there moved the best cavalry force in the world. Nevertheless from his position in the centre Tilly saw the black masses move forth with dismay, and cried that he was ruined. Pappenheim, now launched on his design, led his cavalry obliquely to the left to outflank the Swedes, as well as bear down on their front. The tactics of the Imperial cavalry were those of the day. They had been trained to come thundering to the front on huge German horses, at a steady trot, fire their pistols in their adversaries’ faces, ride through ranks if they collapsed; but had not learnt to charge home sword in hand. Imposing and awe-inspiring as the heavy masses were, they withered and fell before the unperturbed groups of the commanded musketeers, and into their ranks, shattered by musketry that was far more effective than the shots of the dragoon pistols, dashed sword in hand the lighter Gothland and Finland horse from Baner’s ranks. Baner was much too old a soldier to let his flanks be ridden over, and as Pappenheim swept round in the hope of rolling up the line from behind, he was charged in flank by a regiment from the Swedish reserve. Seven desperate attempts did Pappenheim make to rally his horse and lead them on again. To his assistance Tilly sent the Holstein foot regiment, only to be destroyed by the Swedes, who had not merely driven Pappenheim from their front., but now followed and forced him off the field.

On the left of the battle, however, matters were going far differently. The Imperial cavalry under Furstemberg and Isolani, stirred by Pappenheim’s move, now also launched an attack in their part of the field, and rode straight for the Saxon line. A very terrible thing is a mass of horse advancing with rank on rank behind. There were few veterans in the Saxon Army, and none who had the benefit of the stern Swedish drill and discipline. Had the Saxons joined the Allied Protestant cause earlier they would no doubt have been trained and reformed by Gustavus, but now they were standing up to the veteran Imperialist forces in all their innocent half-trained bravery. The Imperialists drove straight in, and with a few gunners sabred and a few officers unhorsed, the whole Saxon line, despite their waving feathers and gay baldricks, broke and left the field, carrying with them in extricable confusion the Swedish baggage trains. The Elector himself and his body-guard went too, though the guard behaved stoutly, and did not draw rein till they reached Eilenburg, ten miles behind the river. The net result was that half the Allied force had gone, and the Swedish left lay bare.

Tilly’s Attack and Gustavus’ Counter-Attack

The battle up to now had gone on without the control of Tilly, who had watched his horse take the law into their own hands with dismay, as described, but was far too practised a soldier not to improve the opportunity that presented itself. With the Saxons gone and the Swedish left bare, the mistakes of Pappenheim might here be repaid. The great line of massed battalia not yet engaged far overlapped the Swedish left, and, though intact, were feeling the galling effect of Torstensen’s well-served guns. The masses of infantry had been trained to manoeuvre, but only at slow pace, and Tilly at once moved them obliquely to the right, following with a wheel to the left, which brought them, still in good order, to bear down on the Swedish flank. But neither Gustavus nor Marshal Horn was the man to wait while heavy masses manoeuvred to their disadvantage. Under orders from the King, who sent up two brigades of infantry from reserve, Hom wheeled back his left in rear of the ditches of the Duben road and sent forward his musketeers to hold the same. When Furstemberg’s cavalry turned from pursuing the Saxons and threw themselves on the Swedes, with the heavy Spanish battalia pressing on in rear, it was against a well-organised front line that they spent themselves in vain, storm they never so gallantly.

As soon as Gustavus saw his left in good order, he knew that his moment had come. Hurrying back to the right, he led forth all the cavalry in reserve, picking up as he went any formed body of horse that he passed. Some he launched along the main Swedish front to fall on the flank of the Imperial attack on Hom. Then, with four regiments, he himself rode half-left up the slopes where stood the Imperial artillery. Bursting on the cumbrous guns, the King leading, the Swedes swept over them like a storm, sabring the gunners, and slewing them round to bear on the serried ranks of the great battalia, with which was Father Tilly himself. The main battle front now stood at right angles to the original front, and the Imperialist ridge was in the hands of the King of Sweden. The great shot from Tilly’s captured guns tore through his own ranks, and Torstensen, wheeling up his lighter guns, added in no small degree to the smashing of the main Imperialist force.

The afternoon was now far gone, as Gustavus wheeled up his centre and right to prolong the line already formed by Hom on the Duben road, bringing eventually their right shoulders even further round to separate the Imperialist from Leipsic, and to make good the captured ridge and cannon.

While this change of front was in progress, the great battery of their own lost guns and those of Torstensen continued pounding the now-inert masses of Tilly’s infantry, ploughing great lanes through them as they stood stubborn for the glory of their leader and his name, and because no one could even march the solid masses off the field. The fight along the Duben road continued fierce and despairing as the sun dipped down to its setting. The Swedish horse charged the massed battalia again and again, and the commanded musketeers from the distances by the roadside formed a long line of fire, and tormented the angry inert masses till they could stand no more. With Pappenheim’s horsemen broken, Furstemberg disappeared, and with no reserves at his disposal there was little that the Imperial commander could do to make or mar the day, and he was as helpless as his massed battalia. By dusk a stampede set in, the masses breaking away in a solid yet helpless stream, though the Swedes themselves had little strength left to pursue. The battle was over—the great fight in which Tilly was to smash the young soldier who ventured to stand up to him. Tilly, the invincible, was badly beaten, and the Imperialists had neither thought nor power to rally. Seven thousand killed, including Count Schaumburg and the Duke of Holstein, 6000 wounded or prisoners, most of their artillery and trains, and ninety standards was the tally of loss. The total Swedish loss was 2100 killed and wounded.

The Saxon guns were recaptured, and the Imperial remnant drifted and crawled off the field, mostly to Halle, covered by the cuirassiers of Count Cronenburg, the only unbroken corps remaining. To Halle also came Count Tilly himself, thrice contused with pistol balls, having barely escaped capture through the intervention of the Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg, who shot a Swedish officer discovered belabouring the old man with his pistol butt. Eventually Pappenheim with 1400 horse rejoined his chief, and the latter, collecting such forces as remained, withdrew to Halberstad and thence to the Weser.

After the Battle

The Swedes spent the night of victory in the field or billeted in the adjacent villages, the Imperialists sleeping where fatigue felled them, and in the morning the former made ready to move on Leipsic. The Elector of Saxony arrived hot haste from Eilenburg to apologise as best he could for the conduct of his troops, and to offer his congratulations. Gustavus received him affably enough, made naught of the flight and praised the Elector for his advice to fight an immediate battle, and the flair that prompted it and which had such happy results. The Elector explained that his troops were also moving to join their allies, whereon Gustavus confided to them the task of reducing the none-too-numerous garrison of Leipsic, while he himself hurried on to secure Halle and Merseburg.

Before leaving their bivouacs Gustavus had enjoined a solemn service of thanksgiving, in which his whole army took part, and then himself, with his wonted energy, headed the march after the defeated enemy with 1500 horse, and at Merseburg overtook some 3000 of the Imperialists, whom he attacked and captured. Two days later, on September 10th, he occupied Halle, which surrendered, and at the Saale stayed his pursuit, wishing to make sure of his hold on Saxony. Leipsic fell to the Saxons on the 12th, whereon the Elector brought his troops back to Torgau. Tilly was reported at Halberstadt, whence, as related, he marched to the Weser.

The disappearance of the Imperialist army from the vicinity of the Swedes but instanced one of the peculiar conditions that existed in this war, which was partly a civil war. Saxony, the component of the Empire, had demurred at admitting Imperial garrisons and right of way, and had now declared herself among the rebellious. Tilly after his disaster could no longer compel acquiescence in his presence, and could not therefore remain within its coasts, nor could his broken forces rest to lick their wounds and refit till they were in friendly country once again.

Therefore it befell that with the capture of Halle and Merseburg Gustavus could find little within his immediate reach, and with no enemy to strike, it was obviously necessary to call a halt, refit his army, consider the next steps, and survey the new situation from the widest outlook.

First of all, however, he wrote to all his direct supporters—Louis of France, Charles of England and the United States of Holland—giving a modest but succinct account of his victory, which was indeed by now ringing throughout Northern Europe, and was received with either intense satisfaction or dire consternation, according to the creed and politics of the parties concerned. Throughout the Catholic world the impression was naturally one of dismay and horror. To Gustavus it was peculiarly satisfying not only that he should have been able to justify this intervention in the affairs of the mainland, of the success that would alone achieve that end, but also that he should have proved himself to the other Protestants as no Christian of Denmark, and as one who could make good his promises. He must also have greatly rejoiced that he should have shown to his supporters that their support both in men and money was not thrown away. In Sweden the enthusiasm at the success of the national hero was widespread and unbounded, while throughout Protestant Germany leaflets and medals describing and depicting the Protestant champion appeared on all sides. Nor could Sigismund of Poland and jealous Christian of Denmark forbear to send their congratulations, so compelling is the effect of success.

Gustavus Summons a Protestant Council

It was very soon plain to Gustavus that things were to be much simplified for him by his victory. Apart from the round of plaudits, the more serious desiderata of men, money, allies and supplies were now to be had for the asking, and before long, too, he found that crop of jealousies to hamper him which is the lot of most heroes. But before dwelling on the triumphs and dignities which were so soon to surround him, we may first dwell on the steps that his resolute, clear-headed nature prompted, so that the situation should be used to the utmost before his adversaries could recover from their shock and before the oncoming winter should check even his activities. Various courses were open to the victor, and which to choose was the problem. Conferences and councils were not particularly congenial to the self-sufficiency of a strong mind, but this was an occasion on which one might well be summoned, and to it came the Elector of Saxony, the Princes of Anspach and the Dukes of Weimar. Gustavus, having listened to, and no doubt drawn counsel from, all that was said, then pronounced his decision, a decision which caused something like dismay among his own advisers, and more than a little surprise throughout Europe. The general opinion, putting more weight in places than on the things which places stand for, expected, nay almost demanded, a triumphal march on Vienna. Not so Gustavus. The enemy’s forces, the troops of the Catholic League and the states whence they derived, seemed to him the true objective, and he announced that he would lead his own army to deal with them, that Franconia, the Upper Rhine and Bavaria should be his objective, and that, since the roads could not carry too many troops, the Saxons should advance into Bohemia and secure the capital of Prague.

It is but fair to say that Oxenstiem, supported by the marshals, strongly urged the march to Vienna, and against the Imperial Government, and forever afterwards maintained that it was not only feasible, but the correct movement to make. Gustavus has left no memorandum, no paper that modem military jargon would call an " appreciation,” but those who have followed his methods can have no difficulty in recognising and applauding his motives. Not only should the purely military point be recognised, viz., that so long as the enemy had an army in being and no great will to peace that army must be the true objective. With the army destroyed, Vienna, the Emperor, everything else must drop like ripe fruit from the bough. But we have also seen how appreciative Gustavus was of the main props of an army, its bases and its lines of supply. Keenly had he realised the danger of pressing further and further inland and leaving on his flanks unbeaten forces, or forces at any rate in being, that should close in on him and even devastate again the states that he had already freed or which had joined him.

Whatever the direction of his mind and whatever his basic reasons, Gustavus determined himself to start down what was often called the “ Priest’s Alley,” the ElectorBishoprics of the Rhine, where rich sustenance for his troops during the winter would be found. Here he would be in a position to move from the west into Bavaria and the hereditary territories of Ferdinand in the spring. Therefore into Weimar and Thuringia and the neighbourhood of Erfurt, with Hesse, Saxony and Weimar within hail, he would go, and be in a position to take what he wanted from the rich bishoprics of Franconia, and even enter Swabia and Wurtemberg. Baner was to keep Tilly from moving forward again, and was to take Halberstadt and Magdeburg and generally made good the western portion of the Elbe bastion. Further south, on the Lower Elbe, Todt was to collect all reinforcements of English and Scots, of which many were now arriving, and to arrange to bring the Bremen-Lauenburg country into alliance and the Free Cities of Lubeck, Bremen and Hamburg. The days immediately succeeding Leipsic were busy with the formation of new corps from prisoners and from all and sundry, while, as usual, Gustavian organisation provided equipment and clothing for such expansion. Indeed, it is to the regret of the military student that no record remains of what was done in this respect, and how the Ordnance Corps of the period carried out their duties.

The Catholic States

It has been said that the news of the victory of Breitenfeld had been received with dismay and consternation throughout the Catholic world, or at any rate the Catholic world of Italy and Germany. It was felt that the whole policy that underlay the Counter-Reformation was at stake, and to the zealot the hope of re-establishing the Roman Obedience had gone. In Vienna the greatest terror reigned, and the approach of Gustavus was looked for daily. The Emperor had few troops to his hand and no skilled commanders. To Maximilian of Bavaria and the Catholic States the situation was no less alarming. Though Count Tilly was the Imperial Generalissimo, yet the greater part of his army consisted of the troops and contingents of the League that they had placed at the disposal of the Emperor, and their troops, as well as the Imperial levies, were either dispersed in the garrisons of the lower Palatinate or else were dragging their way to Halberstadt with Tilly. They certainly were not so placed as to defend the states of the League against the victorious swarms of the Swedes and their allies. In addition, a few thousand Imperial troops were with Tiefferibach in Silesia. The Catholic League had rejected the chance of remaining neutral, it had refused to remonstrate with the Emperor on the duress that he had lately placed on the Protestants after the victories of Wallenstein and the forcing of Christian of Denmark from the field. The intense hatred, however, that had been evinced at the Diet of Ratisbon for Wallenstein and all his ways, however creditable on the ground of the enormities committed by his troops on his own side, had undoubtedly deprived the Emperor of the one man of organising power within his reach. The Emperor, surrounded by rumour of defalcations, doubtful if Maximilian and the League would not still think of neutrality, realised that it was the help of France which had enabled Gustavus to organise. Beset by the reflection that, against the advice of his own Ministers, he had failed to guard against such action in his recent treaties with France, he was in no enviable condition. Nevertheless, under adversity his character compels admiration, and such steps as could be taken were taken. Outlying troops were collected, war levies imposed, but for the moment he had no one to direct these efforts efficiently. Wallenstein, still deep in his own pursuits, gave no sign. Maximilian and the states of the League were also hastily collecting all the troops they could lay hands on, waiting for the moment to see what the next move of Gustavus was to be. When it came it produced still greater consternation, as he swept triumphantly down the Maine to the Rhine.

The military issues for the League and the Emperor were much complicated by the need for holding territory. A clean-cut concentration of forces at the point of danger could be carried out only by abandoning territory on the Rhine, the Elbe and the Weser, which would increase the resources of the Protestants, so that just as Gustavus had to dissipate his forces to meet the widely held Imperial areas, so had the Imperial forces to remain stretched out the length of the Rhine and the Elbe, forcing the war to be fought out in many theatres, to the detriment of decisions, but an unavoidable concomitant of the peculiar conditions of the struggle.

It was, indeed, to be months before Gustavus was to meet again an Imperial or a League army in an open trial of strength. Before him was now a series of fortresses to be taken and of rich towns and valleys to be occupied, and none to say him nay. The Swedish troops, indeed, were now entering territories unravaged by war, in which they could be well fed and supplied, well wintered and brought into trim for the next year’s fighting, and which neither Maximilian nor Ferdinand could deny them. The rich Bishoprics of the Maine and the Rhine, Bamberg, Wurzburg, Mainz, Cologne, Treves lay before Gustavus, while many a wealthy Protestant town, long under duress, would be eager to support him, as he moved down towards Bavaria itself.

XI.

AFTER LEIPSIC

The Separation of the Swedes and Saxons—The Swedes Move to Erfurt and Thuringia—The Capture of Wurzburg—The Movements of Tilly—The Saxons at Prague—Gustavus Moves down the Maine—Gustavus Moves to the Rhine—The Operations of the Outlying Swedish Forces.

The Separation or the Swedes and Saxons

ON September 17th, ten days after the victory of Breitenfeld, the two armies were sufficiently restored to start on their several ways, in accordance with the much-questioned decision of Gustavus, the Saxons towards Bohemia and the Swedes and their other allies towards the Maine and the Rhine. In front of the Saxons there seemed to be little enough to forbid their march to Prague, whence reports came of feverish efforts to raise a new army on behalf of the Emperor. Away in Silesia Marshal Tieffenbach had 10,000 men, and this was the only Imperial force in being that could be likely to move in against a Saxon advance on Prague. There is, indeed, something to be said for the subtlety of Gustavus in giving John George a task that was easily within the power of his runaway army, and yet could but draw him deeper into the black books of the Emperor.

The latter, reduced to great anxiety and indecision by the defeat of his troops at Leipsic, now endeavoured to detach the Elector from his new friends by fair words and some attempt to explain away the behaviour and actions of Tilly in Saxony. Tieffenbach had already invaded Lusatia, a part of Saxony, and Ferdinand now ordered him to withdraw from it in the hope of propitiating the Elector. The Elector, however, replied that he was persuaded that Count Tilly dare not have so acted without the Emperor’s orders, that he had long seen that the ruin of Saxony had been determined on, when the other Protestant states had fallen, and that the law of self-preservation compelled him to place his country under the protection of the King of Sweden. To Gustavus, he added, he now owed everything, and it would be the basest ingratitude if he failed to support the just cause of the King. The march into Lusatia was therefore continued. The withdrawal of Tieffenbach made the recovery of the province easy enough, and leaving a force for its defence, the Saxons entered Bohemia on the way to Prague, and were received with the greatest joy by the Protestant population, who had so long suffered the severest persecution and oppression. The Jesuits, who, as elsewhere, had led in the evil work, and had forced recantation at the point of the pike, fled forthwith, and the roads to Prague were covered with fugitives in fear of reprisal. Tieffenbach was now ordered to throw himself into that city, but was too late, for the Saxons were on the shorter route, and were actually within sight of the place by October 29th. As the Saxons approached, the Catholic refugees poured out of Prague, even spreading consternation as far as Vienna. Among those who took to the road was the Duke of Friedland. A veteran Spanish officer, Count Maradass, endeavoured, without any official position, to gather some men together for the defence, and invited Wallenstein to take command. But the latter replied that without any authority he was but a private individual, and added himself to the crowd of refugees. When the Saxons approached the city and found the gun ports silent, Count Amheim could but believe that some ruse was contemplated, and only after coming across an old servant of Wallenstein’s did he learn that all troops and the Council of Regency had withdrawn. Summoning the city, a capitulation was soon agreed on, and the Saxons occupied the town with an order and sobriety worthy of the Swedes, marking with dignity the first time that a Protestant authority had been in the ascendant since the “ Defenestration ” in 1618 and the ghastly battle and vengeance that had ensued thereto.

The Swedes Move to Erfurt and Thuringia

On the same date as the Saxons marched off to Bohemia, the Swedish troops destined for the Main country started south for Erfurt, and thence through those same forests and mountains of Thuringia that Tilly somewhat earlier had found so difficult to thread. Gustavus’ original intention was to winter at Erfurt in Weimar, and there organise his new forces from the numerous recruits and prisoners who volunteered on all sides. Erfurt, a free and Imperial city, with certain obligations to the Elector of Mainz, was reached on October 2nd. The magistrates demurred somewhat to admitting the Swedish troops, but the Duke of Weimar succeeded without violence in getting the Gustavian garrison admitted, by jamming his own carriage in the city gate. Cavalry hurried through, and then the King himself assured the magistrates that all rights would be protected. Indeed, he was anxious to have no trouble that should interfere with his peaceful occupation of the first Catholic town that had fallen into his hands. There were plenty of Protestant folk in the community, but, in accordance with the Peace of Augsburg, the city came within the agreed sphere of Catholic jurisdiction, and only where that jurisdiction had been wanton and oppressive had Gustavus any desire to take a high-handed line. He received the Catholic ecclesiastics who waited on him with cordiality, assuring them that he would protect their privileges as much as those of the Protestants. To the Jesuits, as we have seen in Livonia and Prussia, he had another message, looking on them as the leaders in all high-handed treatment of Protestants. After a severe castigation he informed them that any departure from their purely religious duties would result in expulsion. He restored the Protestant University of Erfurt to its pristine condition, and placed the government of the city in the hands of the Duke of Weimar. From Erfurt embassies were sent forward to Bayreuth and Nuremberg, to invite the Protestant states of the circle of Franconia to join the Swedish Alliance and assist in the burden of the war, and on September 27th the army was on the march towards the difficult defiles and passes of the Duringer Wald and the Thuringian forests, after capturing Gotha. It took the Swedish Army three long days to defile through the forest and the rugged country beyond. The marches lasted late into the night through the Wald, often lit by blazing musket matches affixed to trees and other devices of a well-staffed force. The ways through the hills converged at Konigshofen, on the road to the valley of the Maine. Here the Swedes were to come into the area where the fortified towns and bridges were again held by Imperial troops. The garrison of Konigshofen refused to surrender, whereon, without delay, Torstensen’s artillery was brought into battery, while Gustavus invited the non-combatants to leave, to save innocent lives. The salvos from the cannon, added to the determination implied in the offer to the non-combatants, made the garrison reconsider their position and beat a parley, just as the assaulting troops were forming up. The fall of this stronghold opened the road to Wurzburg and spread consternation among the Catholics in the Franconian circle. The Bishop of Wurzburg, whose town was considered the capital of Franconia, though offered neutrality by Gustavus, fled, followed by many of the Catholics. Next fell Schweinfurth, considered by the Imperialists as too weak to defend, but it commanded a crossing of the river and an alternative route to Wurzburg and to the south, and to Gustavus it appeared of essential value, so that he at once turned it over to his engineers to put in a state of defence.

The Capture of Wurzburg

The occupation of the Catholic town of Erfurt had been simple enough, and Gustavus could easily exercise his desire to treat the Catholic portion of the population with consideration, but while Konigshofen was but an isolated post, he was now about to attack Wurzburg itself, which was a considerable Catholic centre as well as an Imperialist military depot. Because it was the first place of importance in the heart of the Catholic country which was to feel the might of his arms and the force of his methods, the story is worthy of attention. The town constituted a fortified crossing of the important river, the Maine, and, like all such, was worthy of defence by one side and equally important of acquisition for the other. It also presented a far bigger military problem than Konigshofen, being backed by a powerful castle that formed its citadel. It was also the depository of the treasures of many religious orders, and was in every way of considerable importance. As it refused the King’s summons, the town gates were blown in and the burgher guards soon disposed of. Gustavus was able to restrain his troops from molesting the faintly hostile town, and at once turned his attention to the citadel. This, the strong castle of Marienburg, well armed with modem outworks, and with plenty of cannon on its walls, stood on the far bank, commanding the bridge over the Maine. Not only was the castle in first-class order, but it was also thoroughly provisioned and stored with military stores and garrisoned by 1500 men, while rumour already spoke of Tilly being on the move for its relief, his troops again in fighting trim. Inside the castle, however, were also members of several religious orders of both sexes, for whom Gustavus feared if it came to a desperate assault by infuriated troops. As, however, the commandant, one Colonel Keller, not unnaturally felt he could hold out, there was nothing for it but to lay on. The only way to approach the castle was by the defile of the bridge over the Maine, from the arches of which the Imperialists had removed the roadway. The Swedes spanned the gap by a single plank, and under heavy fire managed to get a few men of the Scottish regiments across, after severe loss. Eventually Ramsay and Hepbum, who commanded, got their men over in greater numbers in boats, and under a hot artillery fire succeeded in landing and opening with musketry on the defenders, which allowed the remainder to file over the plank on the broken arch. During the night Gustavus ferried larger parties across and set about erecting breaching batteries, and then, after two days’ cannonade, prepared to assault. A further summons was rejected, and the assault commenced at several points. The King himself, in pursuit of his uncontrollable desire to eat fire at every opportunity, was the ninth man to reach the top. The assailants for long gave no quarter, as they hunted the garrison from post to post, agreeably to the old law that the garrison of a post which cannot hold out has no right to cause loss of life by a defence that cannot succeed. The hoisting of the white flag when the defenders’ own turn to die comes is never a permissible act of war, except in the minds of those who do not realise facts. Nevertheless, despite the exasperation of the assailants and despite the castle being crowded with townsmen, nuns and ecclesiastics, such were the exertions of the King that only one capuchin lost his life. To the masses of such prostrate before him, the King, always embarrassed at such sights, promised complete personal safety, though the wealthier burgher refugees had to pay ransom.

Gustavus was obliged to allow his sorely tried troops the plunder of the Bishop’s treasure, but secured for the army the large quantity of provisions and wine stored within. Among the ordnance items which he could turn to his own use were thirty large pieces of cannon and several thousand pikes, as well as other war-like stores. In view of the treatment that the Jesuits had accorded to Protestant Universities, the King sent the Bishop’s valuable library to the University of Upsala, and exacted from the town in return for its immunity a contribution to his war chest of 80,000 rixdallers. The capture, which the resolution of his troops carried out with a promptness unexpected by the Imperialists within or without, now opened the way for a move down the Maine and a more advanced programme for the winter than Gustavus had originally anticipated.

The Movements of Tilly

The Imperial Generalissimo, despite his seventy-two years and the crushing defeat that he had experienced, and despite the rough physical handling that he had undergone, which would have kept many a younger man quiet for a long time, was now, within a month of Breitenfeld, astir again. After re-forming the wreck of the beaten army and collecting the garrisons in lower Saxony, he had joined with the force under Aidringer, and was now falling once again on the territories of the Landgrave of Hesse, which he was ravaging mercilessly. His chagrin at his first defeat provided a spur that he had communicated to all, and with 27,000 to 30,000 men he was now marching on Fulda in Thuringia, with the intention of entering Franconia, and bent, it was said, on trying his fortune once more in battle with the King. It was this move that had induced the Citadel of Wurzburg to refuse all parleys.

In addition to the troops under Aidringer and also those of Fugger, a fresh reinforcement was coming to him in the shape of the Duke of Lorraine, who, despite the views and wishes of France, had concluded a treaty with the Emperor and had crossed the Rhine at Worms with 13,000 well-equipped but untried troops, and joined the Imperialists at Fulda. Tilly, now anxious to relieve Wurzburg, was advancing up the left bank of the Maine. He was actually within two days of that town when the citadel fell, and Gustavus was obliged to make a prompt march to secure the important bridge of Ochsenfurth.

The troops at this moment at the King’s disposal did not amount to more than 25,000 men, despite the recruitment since Breitenfeld, for his casualties in that battle had reduced his original force, and the garrisons he was compelled to leave were a considerable drain. With his Lorrainers Tilly may have felt equal to another contest, but whatever was in his mind there now came definite orders from Maximilian of Bavaria, who was really his master, that he was not to join issue in a general engagement again, but to work round to the Danube and cover the South German states, attacking Swedish detachments only when he could. The old soldier accordingly, with some reluctance, continued his march to the south, leaving garrisons at Rothenheim, Wertheim and Windsheim, where there were bridges over the Maine. In moving south the Lorrainers had been detached and had fallen in with the King, who had called up 6000 horse and foot under Bauditzen, and given their vanguard a handsome reminder to be careful. Tilly, moving well clear of Wurzburg, now moved towards Numberg, which had entered into a treaty by alliance with the Swedes.

The coming into the field of the Duke of Lorraine and the rough handling of his troops by Gustavus had virtually brought the Swedish King into contact with Spain herself, so widespread was this war of religion. Not only had the Duke of Lorraine allied himself with the Emperor in the great contest, but Spanish troops from the Netherlands were acting as Imperial garrisons in the fortresses on the Rhine and on the Moselle. Indeed at one time the King had thought himself obliged to declare war on Spain, but realising that this must mean the subjecting of Swedish commerce to raids from Spanish cruisers at Dunquerque, he abandoned any such intention, contenting himself with treating the Spaniards as Imperial troops whenever he came across them, leaving it to Spain to resent his attitude if she wished.

The Saxons at Prague

While Gustavus was consolidating his position at Wurzburg, getting more of his new levies trimmed to the Swedish form and carrying on his correspondence with the Protestant states in Franconia, the Saxons were actually beating the Austrians in Bohemia. After the unopposed occupation of Prague, John George betook himself to Dresden, which, as we have seen, barely escaped the invasion of Tieffenbach, leaving Count Arnheim in command at Prague. By this time the army under the marshal, having failed to reach Prague in time to forestall the Saxons, had been joined by a small force sent by Tilly to its support, and had entrenched itself at Nimberg. From thence parties of Croats and other light horse were scouring the country round for supplies in the typical ruthless Imperialist manner. Arnheim, who was a good enough soldier, marched forthwith to Nimberg, and after haranguing his troops on their failure at Leipsic and the reputation to be retrieved, attacked the Imperialist camp with ardour. After a sharp combat Tieffenbach’s troops were driven from their entrenchments and compelled to take shelter within the walls of Nimberg. A second attack drove them forth in confusion, and they were forced to retire some distance from the Elbe. Close upon this victory the townspeople of the fortified town of Eger insisted, despite the Catholic magistrates, in surrendering the town, but these were unfortunately to be the last successes which were to grace the Saxon arms, though they were to retain their hold on Prague and a large part of Bohemia for the winter months.

Gustavus Moves Down the Maine

Having secured his position on the Maine at Wurzburg and Schweinfurth, Gustavus was now ready to move down the river to dominate the Electoral Bishoprics, viz. those of Main, Treves, and Cologne, and on November 9th he set forth, using the left bank for the greater part of his army, with a smaller force on the right. Hom, with 5000 men, was left at Wurzburg to watch Tilly and act against lesser forces in Franconia. The first objective of this march down the Maine, in addition to the securing of the various defended bridges, was the important town of Frankfurt-on-Maine. Here the Diet of Composition that Ferdinand had proposed at the Diet of Ratisbon was sitting, but broke up hastily when the King started for the Maine. Town after town on the route of the Swedish armies succumbed, usually on the sound of the royal trumpet, the garrisons left by Tilly mostly joining the Swedish forces, until, on November 16th, Frankfurt itself fell, the magistrates endeavouring to withstand an entry, but the King refusing to discuss the situation for a moment. From all sides had been coming news of more ‘acquisitions to the Swedish cause, the Bishop of Bamberg also surrendering that strategic town to the King’s demand and paying a contribution of 300,000 crowns. When Tilly had left the lower Palatinate for Franconia, the Landgrave of Hesse was able to make headway on the Weser, and commenced a series of harassing operations against the Imperialists, among other successes capturing a large convoy on its way to the Grand Imperial Army in Southern Franconia. The Landgrave then moved up the Werra, the eastern branch of the upper Weser, and captured Hoxter from an ill-handled Imperial garrison —whose commander was afterwards beheaded by the Emperor for his pains—and thence was free to march towards Gustavus.

Gustavus, now established in the heart of the Catholic country, and with no pressing military problem before him, had time to turn to the no less important matter of ceremony and the impressing of the public mind. The occupation of so important a town as Frankfurt, from which the gossip and news centres spread in all directions, gave an opportunity for that publicity which instinct told him was now so important for his cause. He accordingly decided on a public entry, and fortunately we have the most detailed accounts thereof. The procession was composed of several parts, the first a large body of his most imposing troops, with no less than fifty-six cannon, equivalent in modem parlance to a dozen batteries of artillery. Most of the nobility of the province of Wetteravia, as the district was known, entitled to sit in the Imperial Diet, rode in front of the King, who followed on a Spanish jennet in a dress of scarlet and gold. He was received by loud acclamations of the citizens, of whom the major portion perhaps were of the Protestant faith, to whom the King bowed frequently. The Duke of Saxe-Weimar, superbly mounted and apparelled, then followed at the head of the royal guards, with the King’s coach and eight. Then came Ao Swedish, two Scots and two English regiments, ana four of Germans, more artillery and a large number of carriages. The procession lasted for eight hours, and then the magistrates entertained the King at a banquet.

But banqueting never held Gustavus when soldiering was to be done, and that evening he set out to ensure the possession of the castle of Hochst, before which he arrived during the night and compelled its surrender in the morning, returning forthwith to Frankfurt. There he was shortly joined by the Landgrave of Hesse and his forces, which brought his numbers up to 35,000 men, the largest force he had yet been able to concentrate. The increasing numbers of the Imperial forces under Tilly were now satisfactorily balanced, especially since the Duke of Lorraine, who had been left by Tilly west of the Maine, had been harassed by the Swedes and obliged eventually to lead back the remnant of his force to Nancy. Wrecked in health and discipline, it afforded a wholesome lesson for their leader, who had been as boastful as Wallenstein of what he would do to the “ Snow King.”

Gustavus Moves to the Rhine

The winter set in with some severity soon after the taking of Frankfurt, but, after his habit, the King did not necessarily lessen his activities. On November 18th he marched for Mainz, the Landgrave of Hesse leading, to the consternation of the Elector, who, after driving piles into the river and piling stones in the fairway, fled with the Bishop of Worms to Cologne, leaving, however, the Imperial garrison of 2000 Spaniards, under Don Philip de Sylva, to hold the citadel and organise the burgher forces. The position of Mainz at the junction of the Maine and Rhine was of commanding importance, both commercially and strategically. The town was situated on the left bank of the Rhine just below the junction, while on the opposite bank, covering the bridge, was the strongly fortified town of Castel. The Spanish Don left in command was peculiarly bombastic in his promises of the treatment he would mete out to the Swedes. His force, he declared to the Elector, was enough to repulse three kings of Sweden. Relying on the river for his main protection and the fact that he would be able to move superior numbers to any adjacent point of crossing, Don Philip secured all the boats for many miles.

An immediate plan for capturing the twin towns was not apparent, and the King first set himself to bring into hand the adjacent custom houses and towns on the right bank, and levy a contribution of 459,000 rixdallers on the countryside, which he made his own as far up the right bank of the Rhine as the Neckar. While he was planning a crossing between Mainz and the Neckar, came news that Tilly was on the move and had appeared before Numberg. Above all things was Gustavus anxious that the states and towns such as Numberg, which had accepted alliance, should not be harmed, and he promptly marched off via Frankfurt towards the point of danger.

When Tilly had failed to prevent Wurzburg falling to Gustavus he had moved up the left bank of the Maine and Tauber, via Miltenburg and Rotherburg, to Windsheim, and thence south to Anspach, but Gustavus had not anticipated his doing more than threaten the line of the Maine, now defended by Gustavus Hom. When therefore the news came that Tilly had marched on Numberg, the King left the banks of the Rhine near Mainz on November 29th with 17,000 foot and 9000 horse, determined, if necessary, on another pitched battle.

Tilly had appeared before Numberg as reported, and had camped outside its walls, demanding its immediate rendition. But the magistrates, well knowing the treatment that their treaty with Gustavus would call down on them, and confident not only in their own walls, but also in the assurances of the Swedes, stood firm and refused to listen to any demands. They also knew pretty shrewdly that the Imperialists at the end of December were in no state to sit down to a siege. Their assurance was justified, for Father Tilly, hearing of the prompt march of the King, drew off, whereon Gustavus, after strengthening Hom on the Maine, returned to set about the capture of Mainz, where he had now decided to establish his own winter headquarters.

The Operations of the Outlying Swedish Forces

While Gustavus was moving down to the Priest’s Alley his outlying commanders had been busy increasing their forces, making good their position on the middle Elbe, and preparing in Mecklenburg for the reduction of the three towns still in Imperial hands, viz, Rostock, Wismar and Domitz. On the middle Elbe, Baner had secured all the crossings except Magdeburg, which he was blockading and about to besiege. Thus with the bridges held he was ready with a central force to support any threatened point, and to assure the safety from fresh Imperial inroads of all the Protestant countries that had been freed by Gustavus, as well as to protect the Swedish communications.

In Mecklenburg, Actatius Todt was in command, and attached to him were the levies raised by the two reinstated Dukes of Mecklenburg, so that the Imperial towns were like to fall, being beyond the reach of Imperial aid. When Tilly had limped off the field of Breitenfeld he had made for Magdeburg and Halberstadt, and while collecting and recouping his forces had been able to cover the territory east of the Elbe. But when, as already described, he marched for Franconia, crossing the path of Gustavus as he came down the Maine, he had left but the Elbe garrisons, and practically no supporting force. The Duchy of Magdeburg was, however, generally still in Imperial occupation, and it was most important that it should remain so, wherefore in November Tilly sent off Pappen- heim to Westphalia to endeavour to make headway. As soon as the latter arrived he managed by great exertions to get together some 8000 men, and with this force to relieve Wolf Count Manfield in Magdeburg as he was on the point of surrendering to Baner, who had been besieging the place with some 15,000 men for several days. Baner now withdrew to his fortified tactical camp at Calbe, and Pappenheim, burning the bridge at Magdeburg, evacuated the garrison. Further north the position was complicated by the Duke of Lunenburg catching the prevailing disease , and declaring for Gustavus, added to which Charles Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg was now in the field against the Empire. Nevertheless, Pappenheim drove north against Lunenburg, and acted with such vigour that he succeeded in relieving for a while the town and fort of Stade, near the mouth of the Elbe, which was being besieged by Todt’s troops.

The odds were too much for him, however, and threatened by combined movements of Todt and Baner and the English force under Hamilton, with whom were the levies of the Bishop of Bremen, he was forced to withdraw behind the Weser into the lower provinces of the Rhine. Todt then returned to the siege of Stade, the capture of which would give the Swedes the navigation of the Rhine and allow of the reinforcements from England and the Netherlands coming into the field by the shortest route. Thus the towns in Mecklenburg came to the last gasp, and the remainder of the Swedish force proceeded, as well as the winter weather permitted, to develop their pressure against the line of the Weser. At Magdeburg, now occupied by Baner’s troops, such survivors as might be were invited to commence to rebuild the town, of which the ruins now came, for the first time since its capture by Tilly, into Protestant hands.

XII.—

GUSATVUS ON THE RHINE

The Taking of Mains:—The Winter Court at Mainz—Gustavus and the English—-France and Bavaria—The Return of Wallenstein.

The Taking of Mainz

ON his return to Mainz, Gustavus left the Rhinegrave to blockade the right bank of the Rhine and proceeded to endeavour to get his storm troops across the river. As this was a work of difficulty, true to his custom, he proceeded to arrange it himself and conduct it in person, and while reconnoitring in a skiff with three officers was very nearly captured by the garrison of Oppenheim. The finding and raising of two large sunken boats enabled an attempt at crossing to be made, and with these, 300 men succeeded in getting across and forming a bridge-head at Gemsheim, eight miles above Mainz. While a bridge was being constructed the garrison of Oppenheim, close on a thousand cuirassiers and dragoons, assailed the bridge-head, but, as more Swedes crossed, the Spaniards were repulsed, leaving 600 killed and wounded behind them. Oppenheim itself fell the next morning, and by December 10th Gustavus had sufficient men on the left bank to march on Mainz and cut off the city from the Rhine above and below, as well as from the right bank. When this was in progress Duke Bernard of Saxe Weimar took Spire and Manheim, and the Lorrainers abandoned Worms, while all the Spanish detachments, with the exception of the Don in Mainz, to the number of 8000, shut themselves up in Frankenthal, where the Swedes for the moment were content to blockade them. At the same time, the Landgrave of Hesse, marching down the Rhine, seized Ehrenfells and the Monse Tower. Seeing the Swedish artillery set against his citadel in Mainz on December 12th, Don Philip, despite his boasts and his arrogance, surrendered his post forthwith. And it is to be observed that, however little Gustavus might desire it, the capture of Mainz did amount to a declaration of war against Spain, whose fleets were already at Wismar in the Baltic.

In Mainz were eighty more pieces of artillery and 600 quintals of powder. The even more needful sinews of war in the shape of money was brought in by levying 80,000 crowns from Mainz itself, 40,000 dollars from the Jesuits, and a similar sum from the Catholic priests. These were by no means welcome terms, for the Spaniards had already tried their experienced hands at similar levies, but war knows no ruth, and the amount was duly paid into the King’s war coffers.

His Majesty now proposed to give his army some rest, feeding it and reclothing it from the rich resources of the Rhine states, who had up to now suffered nothing from the war they had been supporting, and were never to know at Swedish hands the cruel duress and ruthless treatment that the Protestants had received from their fellow countrymen. The infantry were billeted in and close to Mainz, and the horse in the country round, while Mainz itself was put into a thorough state of defence. The King had bridges made in every direction, to give him freedom of movement and, as he had done at Wirben, established a new fortified camp, and even endeavoured to form a settlement between the Rhine and the Maine above the confluence which he called Gustavburg, and which, indeed, he hoped to make into a permanent town.

The left bank of the Rhine was handed to the care of Duke Bernard for the winter. Having made these arrangements, Gustavus went back to Frankfurt, where he had the joy of finding his Queen waiting for him. The Queen, it will be remembered had come across from Sweden some months before to Woolgast, with 8000 Swedish reinforcements, and had been waiting impatiently at Brandenburg till she could be allowed to come forward. As will have been gathered from the care with which Gustavus relieved her of all responsibility in his absence from Sweden, Her Majesty was not a woman fitted for public authority, but when with the King, to whom she was fondly attached, she was always wise and dignified. Coming through Stettin and onwards, much feasting had been offered her, but she had always pleaded that money was better spent on the army than on her. At Leipsic, however, the town insisted, and as she drew nearer the front, the fame and popularity of her husband became more and more evident, and she more and more elated, till, at last, at Frankfurt, she was able to throw her arms round him before all men, in a joyous and enthusiastic meeting.

With his Queen, Gustavus now returned to Mainz, to open what was not only a field headquarters, but also a Court of some splendour in which he could receive suitably the many ambassadors and envoys who waited on him, and in which, in conjunction with Oxenstiern, he could more fully consider and mature his policy. But first of all was his attention directed to forging the “ Priest's Fetters,” his fortified camp and town of Gustavburg, destined, however, to fade away when he himself could no longer stimulate it.

The Winter Court at Mainz

The town of Mainz, in which most of the infantry were quartered, was now to be the scene of a brilliant winter Court, and no longer the dour centre of a general headquarters in the field. To this came not only the Queen of Sweden herself, but also the envoys of the German states and the ambassadors of the Courts of Europe. In addition to the ambassadors of those courts in alliance with Gustavus, came also the envoys of all those —and they were legion—who now delighted to do honour to the victor of Leipsic. With the German princes and the embassies came brilliant trains. High politics had of necessity to be discussed, and in these the undoubted diplomatic flair which the King possessed had ample opportunity, and undoubtedly many new and important treaties were entered on.

With the many who came on business there were as many more who came from curiosity. This “ new little enemy,” as Wallenstein had called Gustavus, this King from the Snows—the “Dragoon King,” as the English more suitably had termed him—was a matter of intense interest and curiosity, and one to whom statesmen now wrote and spoke in terms of the greatest deference. Nevertheless, despite the success which attended the negotiations which the King was conducting in many quarters, the old family inheritance of irritability to which reference has been made was in evidence, more marked, as was natural enough, from the mental and physical strain which Gustavus had undergone. The proposals that were put before him were not always palatable or apropos, and the King did not suffer them gladly, while any hesitation in according him dignities that he had assumed was hotly resented.

During this period, nevertheless, treaties and agreements were completed between the Duke of Brunswick and also with that city, a new one was entered into with the now- restored Dukes of Mecklenberg, and formal ones with the cities of Lunenburg, Lubeck and Bremen. Negotiations were also undertaken with Wurtemberg, Ulm and Strasburg. Those in progress with England and France were of the first importance, and are worthy of study in some detail, especially as they were among the matters that must have put most strain on the King. But indeed at this juncture the whole of Europe appeared to centre round this new star, concerning whom much was being written and said in every town in Europe. The future almost of the civilised world, so long tom by the wars of religion, now seemed to hinge on this one life, this “ Dragoon King ” who had no one to pass on his burden to, and yet would at any moment choose to take his life in his hand, and head a charge of his dragoons against the enemies of the Protestant faith. Gustavus accepted the position to which he was called without arrogance, giving praise therefore to the Almighty, and whether or not ambition sharpened the spur will be discussed hereafter. For the moment, with his name on everyone’s lips, the King went about his business of organisation and preparation with that thoroughness which we now know to have been the mainspring of his nature and also the key to his success.

Gustavus and the English

One of the first questions to be discussed at this brilliant war Court, a Court unparalleled till the days of Napoleon, was the future and restitution of the ex-Elector Palatine Frederick V, brother-in-law of King Charles of England. The Prince, on hearing of the successes of Gustavus, had hurried from his place of refuge and waiting at the Hague, to urge Gustavus to restore him to his lost dominions. The ex-Elector was naturally supported by his brother-inlaw’s ambassador, Sir Harry Vane, but Gustavus was not disposed to be very forthcoming in the matter. In the first place Frederick had by no means shown himself the man for troublous times. His ineffective character, unfitting him to lead and rule in stormy weather, was well enough known by this time by all with whom he had come into contact.

A second and equally important reason was that in the opinion of the King of Sweden, Charles I had been backward and unbusinesslike in carrying out his agreements. The British contingents had come late into the field, and the promises of financial support had materialised very inadequately. The treaty which Charles had made with Spain was especially rankling. Gustavus felt that with the Spanish forces actually engaged with him in the provinces of the middle Rhine, coupled with the fact that it was the Spaniards who took the principal part in ousting Frederick, he had a right to expect that the British fleet, rather than sporting with his enemies, should be engaged in creating diversions elsewhere. By hanging back, too, it was to be anticipated that Sir Harry Vane would be induced to give more favourable undertakings on behalf of his master. Again, a third reason was also said to have militated against the ex-Elector’s chances. Gustavus had always had in his mind the possibility of inducing the Catholic League to enter into treaties with him, so that the Catholics and Protestants of Germany should combine as before to live in peace and amity together. Maximilian was not likely to enter into any compact if he was threatened with the deprivation of the provinces of the Elector Palatine, which had been appropriated by himself for several years. In discussing this with Sir Harry Vane, Gustavus pointed out that Charles I had virtually deserted his own relative by his relationship with Spain, but nevertheless offered to carry out his wishes, on certain conditions. “If the King of England will enter into treaty of alliance offensive and defensive with Sweden against Spain, furnish a present subsidy of five tuns of gold (about £45,000) and undertake to maintain an army of 12,000 men at his own expense to co-operate with the Swedes in Germany, I will readily engage to force both the Spaniards and the Elector of Bavaria to relinquish their hold on the Palatinate.”

To this proposal Gustavus could get no definite reply, which served to kindle resentment against the English King, who asked so much and offered so little. But the truth of the matter was that neither the former nor Sir Harry Vane was at all in sympathy one with the other. It was unfortunate that at this juncture Vane, rather than Sir Thomas Roe, who had conducted earlier transactions, should be the English Ambassador. Sir Thomas Roe, open and English in character, had appealed to Gustavus, and had himself the sincerest respect and regard for the King as a man. Vane was of entirely different nature, and not by any means of the usual British or English mentality. He had little personal liking for the King, and this attitude seems to have animated the whole of the British party then at Mainz. Had the relationship been rather heartier, probably the success of the Earl of Hamilton’s English contingent would have been greater, though it is to be observed that when the latter broke up his diminished force the majority of the remnant very contentedly transferred their services to Gustavus’ own regiments. There was so much in common between the King and the English character that it will always be a matter of regret that the two peoples should not have been more en rapport at this critical and glorious period.

The name for Gustavus of the “Dragoon King,” current in the British Embassy, while paying, neatly enough, tribute to that special soldiering side of the Swedish King’s success, was not sufficiently adequate to indicate suitable relations. A letter of the period is quoted which to some extent reflects the atmosphere in which the English embassy lived, and which no doubt had risen through Reports sent to England from that quarter. Sir Toby Mathew, writing to Sir Henry Vane, remarks of conversation at a dinner-party, at which Sir Jacob Ashley had discussed the King: “He speaks highly well of the courage and abilities of the King of Sweden, but I have heard no wise man say any such thing yet of that prince as may totally exclude covetousness and arrogancy and inordinate ambition.”

Sir Henry Vane, like all Englishmen of the period, was sufficiently versed in the lore of camps to know good soldiering, and however much he failed to be in sympathy with Gustavus, could but write in admiration of the soldier, saying that “better men and better clothed he never saw, and that there was not a sick man or boy among them. . . . With regard to the actions and enterprises of the King, all seasons were alike to him, while the most difficult accomplishments seemed to him easy if he once took them in hand, and as the courage of the soldiers under so daring a leader was great, so the fear of his enemies who every day came to serve him; and though other armies are decreased by marching, his increased.”

Nevertheless, had Sir Thomas Roe been with the Court at Mainz, we may be sure that as far as the embarrassments of King Charles at home would have permitted, a much happier relationship would have developed, and whatever the results, the wishes of Charles regarding his brother-in-law would have been further advanced. To Frederick himself Gustavus was always most agreeable and courteous, treating him with all the consideration due to his rank as King of Bohemia, and giving him therefore precedence on all occasions, in front of himself. The exElector always expressed himself satisfied of the intentions of Gustavus towards himself when in good time the occasion should be ripe.

France and Bavaria

Among the many factors which had perturbed the Emperor Ferdinand after the Battle of Breitenfeld had been the discovery that a treaty was about to be signed between France and Bavaria, by which the former would assist in the protection of Bavaria in the event of Maximilian wishing to remain neutral during the remainder of the war. Whether or not Maximilian did intend to avail himself of it is not known, but at Mainz the French ambassador, Charnace, did take pains to try to bring such a position about. Gustavus had derived great advantage from his treaty with France. Money, regular subsidies in cash, had been one of his prime needs, and this he punctually received from France, and, further, he was now expecting to benefit by the assistance of troops recently raised to co-operate with him. But, as was to be expected, the House of Austria had done all in its power to bring argument and pressure to bear on the French. Especially had it and the Vatican used all power of insinuation to impress on Louis XIII their surprise and horror at a Catholic Power and His Catholic Majesty being in alliance with Protestants against their co-religionists. It will be remembered that Richelieu had to some extent guarded himself on this point by his stipulation that the States of the Catholic League might remain neutral when Gustavus set forth to exploit his quarrel, and that of the Protestant world, with the Emperor and his ruthless Generalissimo. But it had pleased the States of the Catholic League to throw in their lot with the Emperor, and it was not till Leipsic and the crushing defeat of Tilly at Breitenfeld that they began to take stock of the hazardous position in which their persistence had placed them. It was now the object of France to assist them in regaining their position of neutrality. But it did not follow that the states themselves took so adverse a view of their position. The Bishop of Wurzburg had fled to Louis XIII when Gustavus came down the Maine, and had again expressed his surprise that he should be on the anti-Catholic side, and, further, he hinted that Sweden was intriguing with the French Huguenots, and that a rebellion in France would follow. The march of Gustavus towards the Rhine and his action against the Spanish forces in Alsace and Lorraine automatically gave some colour to the suggestion. Moreover, it is probable that at this stage the astute Richelieu began to realise that Gustavus might become a bigger power in Europe than would be in harmony with the interests of France. The French Minister therefore sent to request that Gustavus should not himself try to deal with the Rhinish provinces, but leave it to a French army to do so. To this the Swedish King made answer that he had come to free Germany, and not to conquer it, and he was not prepared to accede to this proposal which, in his opinion, could but add to the dissension between the two nations. He observed that he considered that an attack by Louis on Catalonia would be a far more advantageous contribution to the common cause. The French Ministers, in the face of so determined an attitude, did not press the matter further, but turned their attention to advancing their plan of neutrality between the Catholic Electors and the King of Sweden. From a French point of view the scene of hostilities would be removed further east, and the territory of League states would then be interposed between France and Gustavus, should the latter develop any undue pretensions. Indeed, a treaty already concluded between France and Bavaria subsequent to that between France and Gustavus, was in conflict therewith, and Richelieu had some difficulty in reconciling the two. A treaty of neutrality would help him out of something of a quandary, and he now offered his mediation to arrange a peace between Maximilian and Gustavus. To pursue this further, the Marquis de Breze was accredited to the Court of Gustavus at Mainz, accompanied by a brilliant train, all anxious to see in person this fighting monarch whose name was on all lips. Louis himself, who was engaged in suppressing a rebellion of the Duke of Orleans, also advanced close to Metz to visit punishment on the Duke of Lorraine for his action in siding with the Emperor. There was then some talk of a meeting between the monarchs. Louis, however, eventually made excuses, the real reason being, it is said, his punctilio for etiquette and his objection to meeting the King of Sweden on the equality on which the latter laid such importance. De Breze endeavoured to substitute Richelieu, but this was not at all acceptable to Gustavus, who openly said that a King should meet a King and a Cardinal a Minister. It will be remembered how insistent he had been that this title of King should be accorded him when the treaty with France was first broached, how he gained his point, and how incensed he had been when the Emperor disregarded his title. It was no unnecessary vanity, for the dignity of his own country and the position that he had won for it demanded that the world should put such a seal on its importance. For some such reasons, at any rate, the important conference did not take place. It is not out of place here, perhaps, to reflect on the difference that modem invention has brought to such occasions. History is crowded with incidents in which easier communication or earlier knowledge or easy conference would have entirely changed the course of events.

However that may be, Louis and Richelieu failed to meet the King of Sweden, and events rolled on their course uninfluenced by the incident. De Breze succeeded in drawing up with Gustavus a draft treaty with Maximilian, and the Baron de Charnace left for the Court of the latter confident that he would return with it signed in a fortnight. The proposals as drafted by the French Ambassador under which the Catholic League should not be molested, were moderate enough in view of the successes at Leipsic and on the Maine. Gustavus and his allies were to be unmolested. All towns and fortresses in lower Saxony taken from the Protestants since 1618 were to be given up. The army of the League was not to exceed 12,000 men, and they were to be scattered in various garrisons. The house of Austria and his allies were neither to quarter troops nor raise levies in the League’s territories. The King of Sweden would be equally friendly, and would surrender the places he had taken in the lower Palatinate, including Mainz, Bamburg and Spire, until a friendly accommodation had been arranged with the Elector Palatine through the mediation of France and England.

The French envoy was so well received by Maximilian that he felt certain that the negotiations would be successful. Not so Gustavus, who felt that the Bavarian Elector had not the least intention, without more duress, of making the treaty. But the conditions to which Gustavus was prepared to agree show how reasonable and how moderate his mind still was, despite the successes he had achieved and the great forces he was collecting. Indeed, the hopes of the French were soon to be falsified and the real intentions of the Elector of Bavaria were soon to be exposed, for a letter to Pappenheim, in the Elector’s own handwriting, fell into Baner’s hands, in which were instructions to proceed forthwith with raising new levies, and enclosing 100,000 crowns for the purpose. This being sent to Gustavus, the latter showed it to De Breze, with the remark that it showed what reliance could be placed on the sincerity of the Elector. Negotiations were dropped and preparations for the spring campaign on both sides proceeded apace. The support of France was not, of course, withdrawn from Gustavus.

The Return of Wallenstein

While Swedes and Saxons rolled on in pursuit of this joint strategy, all was now consternation at Vienna. As has been related, Wallenstein still sat in his retirement at Prague, continuing his mystical and astrological studies, and apparently paying little regard to the march of events in the German Empire, and when the Saxons threatened Prague, he moved himself to Znaim. A Czech himself, he could not be expected to re-act to any German desires, and only as a Catholic could he have a personal interest in the struggle. But a soldier at heart, with the war and political complex well developed within him, he was not so aloof from affairs as he seemed, and for some time had been, it is said, in communication with Gustavus, who in the great military game that he was now playing had serious thoughts of offering employment to one of the few men who had any real conception of Grande Guerre.

But the Emperor was now more and more perturbed at the state into which his affairs were drifting. With Gustavus among the Bishoprics as a cat among pigeons, the Saxons in Bohemia, with France endeavouring to persuade Maximilian of Bavaria to declare neutrality, and, further, with the Turks, whose threats should have united Christendom, threatening Hungary, Imperial affairs were more than gloomy. Nor was there any strength or counsel to be obtained from the Ministers of the Empire, and Ferdinand found himself driven to appeal again to the man whom high politics had caused him to dismiss.

Baron Wallenstein, Duke of Friedland, mercenary soldier and mystic recluse, was first of all at heart a man of action, and to come back to his old allegiance and all his own contacts and connections was more acceptable than to break new ground and make his own, probably disappointing, milieu with Gustavus. Above all, to a man of his haughty temperament was it agreeable to see his old master cap in hand and craving help. The Duke rallied to the call and rallied with the energy of the spur of suppressed activity. The actual proposals for his recall came at an Imperial Council at Vienna. Either the King of Hungary must be placed at the head of the Imperial forces or Wallenstein must be brought back. The Bavarian faction immediately opposed the suggestion, feeling that the latter would but avenge himself on those who had urged his removal. Ferdinand then proposed a joint control by Wallenstein and the King of Hungary. The Dulla’s brother, Count Maximilian Wallenstein, took the Imperial message from Znaim, when Wallenstein had removed himself from Saxon Prague, but he immediately refused any proposal in which he was to be associated with the King of Hungary. In a crisis unhampered control is what the man of action must have. The Prince of Eggenburg now brought fresh proposals from Ferdinand offering 100,000 crowns as a solatium. The Prince had long had great influence with Wallenstein, and the latter now agreed to give a partial service, spuming the offer of crowns, which he would rather issue as a bonus to those who raised recruits. He undertook, if given a free hand, to work for three months at raising and organising a new Imperial army; when that was raised the Emperor might send the army where he liked, but during those three months of preparation he and his new army would take part in neither siege nor battle. During this period of preparation it pleased the peculiar vanity of Wallenstein to refuse every title of honour, affirming that he would act as a private individual.

For his new army Ferdinand needed money as much as did Gustavus, and that from resources already overstrained. The King of Spain, however, offered 300,000 ducats, and Hungary 300,000 rixdallers, and in addition to a capitation tax on every individual, ecclesiastical property was put under contribution.

However much Wallenstein might forswear rank and honour, and minimise his position, the magic of his name, as the Emperor knew, would soon work its effect. His wealth and liberality were well known in the mercenary world, and though many of his old officers and men were now with the Swedes, there were large numbers at a loose end. Three hundred of his officers at once applied to the Aulic Council for commissions, and the numbers of the army increased daily with great rapidity. But with their increase and their quartering in the various townships during the three months of preparations for which Wallenstein had stipulated, the old evils of rapine, both among friend and foe, for which the forces of Wallenstein had been so notorious, reappeared. Maximilian of Bavaria and his party were hostile enough to the new levies, and the Emperor, while feeling that his forces were assuming a shape that bade him hope, was in the midst of new troubles. Especially was he incensed at the orders that Maximilian had given Tilly to remain on the defensive and cover Bavaria. Such orders complicated the position in that Tilly was Imperial Generalissimo as well as Commander-in-Chief of the forces of the League, and these instructions gave rise to renewed suspicions of the attempts that Richelieu was making to induce Maximilian to enter into negotiations of neutrality with Gustavus. The latter, in the meantime, appeared for the moment quite unconcerned with the news of the levying in the hands of Wallenstein, and was busy with his operations in the Maine valley.

XIII.—

THE WINTER OF 1631

The Gustavus of 1631—The Swedish Army at the End of the Year —Plans for 1632—Further Operations on the Elbe and Weser—Operations West of the Rhine—Wallenstein becomes the Imperial Generalissimo—Terms of Peace with Austria.

The Gustavus of 1631

REFERENCE has already been made to the strain that the years of warfare, in which the burden of affairs was almost entirely on the King’s own shoulders, caused him. The burden and the disappointments that the first fourteen months in Germany had brought to him would have broken down most men. Such strains are almost invariably shown in men of the active type, such as Gustavus, in irritability—nerve-strain we should call it in modem times—and we see it through history repeatedly in men pf action. In the story of Saul of Israel the effect of nerve-strain is told us with a wealth of detail. With Gustavus we have seen it in the personal irritability, and also in the anger to which he was moved when any of those with whom he was in alliance or engaged in political discussion seemed to fail in their respect and courtesy. When the man of camps and battles came to deal with the many ambassadors and trained diplomatists at Mainz, this must have been a disadvantage, despite his own natural flair for the essentials in politics. Of his irritability with his own commanders when things annoyed him he was fully conscious. The story is told how he apologised to his officers at once of his war councils. “I am thought by many of you to speak hastily and angrily in certain conjunctures, but consider, my fellowsoldiers, what a weight I have upon my mind! I am to perform all and be present everywhere, and when the human thoughts are on the stretch, obstacles to, and interruptions of the main pursuit make men irritable. You must bear with my infirmities, in the same manner that I submit to yours. One general has a tendency to avarice, another has a passion for wine, a third wishes to wage war with Croatian barbarity, yet without going further than admonishing and advising you, I have discarded no man, but, on the contrary, have kept you all about my person, and more or less esteemed you all.” A very lovable human man of action this.

But far worse was the old trait, later to produce such dire results, his uncontrollable desire to be in the thick of the fray. In the earlier days of his army-building this, dangerous though it was, produced a magnificent forward spirit among his officers. The leaders of horse imbibed the King’s Man, and all vied with each other to follow his example, whether at charge or storming. But it had cost Gustavus many wounds, and had more than once brought him almost to death’s door. He would not apparently realise that his life was the one support of the Protestant cause. The result of wanting to lead himself also produced, very properly, the intense desire for personal reconnaissance, but it constantly put him into great danger, and more than once had he been captured, but happily rescued. During the earlier days in Pomerania, as well as in his earlier wars, the necessity and the wisdom of this course may be admitted, but as his own safety became more and more essential, this passion to see and to lead himself became a real complex. Among the many stories of his escapes from the dangers of personal reconnaissance is that of a happening before Demmin in Pomerania. The ice in front of one of his outposts broke, and the King sank to his armpits. A captain of a port near by hurried to his assistance, but Gustavus waved him away, while slowly extricating himself under a heavy musketry fire. He then made his way to the guard fire. There the officer who had tried to come to his assistance remonstrated with his master for so exposing a life on which so much depended. The King replied good- temperedly, “Captain, I have a foolish sort of a fancy that tempts me to imagine that nothing can be better seen than when I see it myself.” And while a man is tactical leader, there can be no better rule. Those who knew Earl Haig can imagine him making the same remark in the same terms. But Pomeranian days were one thing, those on the Maine another. Yet we see the King narrowly escaping capture when reconnoitring the passage of the Rhine above Mainz.

In the days of his larger battles, as at Leipsic, it was the King’s wont to lead, and to lead at the head, the great cavalry charge with which he aimed at clinching his victory. We have seen him also scale the castle of Marienburg at the head of stormers. Such means a devoted following of regimental officers and—one day the empty chair at the council table. For years Oxenstiern and those to whom the King would listen had remonstrated in vain, and now, with their heart in their mouths, they could but accept the royal complex, and pray on each day of battle, in tense anxiety, that he might once more be spared.

The other trait developing in his character on which his critics have made some play was that of ambition, which has already been alluded to. But what human being could find himself, especially after Breitenfeld, anything but ambitious! We shall see him credited with a desire to be made King of the Romans, and thereby an Elector of the Empire. If he did so dream, what more natural? If he was to be for many years the bulwark of the Protestant faith, what more natural than a desire to hold a position such as would permit of his steadying for a generation the situation he had brought about? The world-compellers do not usually compel for nought. That a suspicion of his contemplated power and dignity in the German world should get about and be used to make bad blood was likely enough, but that any one should wonder thereat, and condemn a just ambition, is unreasonable. With the two great Protestant Electors’ men of inferior character, it would have been the most desirable of happenings for Central Europe, and had he later dreamed, as men said, of being elected Emperor, even what then ? Of such dreams are great deeds done. Indeed, men such as Gustavus find themselves swept up in a whirlwind, and ideas are thrust before them involuntarily. Oxenstiern, as already related, believed that Gustavus never desired more than a united Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea, but no man can tell what ideas his greater successes may not have stirred within him, and when men are so stirred the world is more concerned with whether they could have held high position to the benefit of mankind, than whether or not they cherished ambition. And now ahead of the King lay a season of glorious triumphs et puis—the death at Lutzen that set his stars at nought.

But whether the King grew irritable, or whether he grew ambitious, his personal piety and trust in the Almighty remained as sincere, and his devoutness as evident as in the early days of his outsetting. “Praise where praise is due,” daily prayers, and constant public thanksgiving maintained the simple devoutness of his army without developing, so far as we know, those excesses that marked some of Cromwell’s leading soldiery, many of whose more level men, by the way, had learned their craft from the Swedish King. When the Jesuits of Augsburg were said to be plotting his assassination, and he was pressed to take special precautions, it is recorded that he replied that “a King circumstanced and employed as he was must not lock himself up in a box; that the wicked could not always effect what they wished; that Providence was more to be relied on than regiments of guards; that God knew how far and how long He would employ him, and in the event would raise up others more able and more active than himself, for the Supreme Being would never make His work depend on one breath or one person.” When the remonstrances were continued he answered that “ they were at great pains to teach him to distrust God.” And indeed he always kept up the practice of going frequently—in modem parlance—“ to the power-house,” which had so struck his soldiers on his first landing at Stettin, when he went to church thrice on the first Sunday, saying that “ if war was their amusement, religion was their business.”

The Swedish Army at the End of 1631

The general state of the forces under the command of Gustavus at the end of 1631, both in actuals and what they were being increased to, is known from a return in the Swedish archives.

The distribution was into four Swedish forces, paid directly from the Swedish military chest, whatever their racial composition, and three allied Protestant contingents, apart from the Saxon Army in Bohemia.

These forces were grouped thus :—

The Army of the Rhine, being the main striking force, under the King himself.

The Army of Franconia, under Horn.

The Army of Lower Saxony, under Actatius Todt.

The Army of Magdeburg, under Baner.

The forces of the Landgrave of Hesse.

The Mecklenburg Corps.

The Weimar Corps, under Duke William.

Of these forces the Army of the Rhine was, of course, the largest and most important, and was shown to be 18,821, and in process of being increased to 46,717. This force included most of the Scot Corps and Hamilton’s English force.

The Franconian Army numbered only 8531, but was being raised to 29,655.

The Lower Saxon Army had 7850, to be raised to 20,850.

The Magdeburg Army had 12,237, to be raised to 39,196.

The Mecklenburg contingent had 3900 to be raised to 11,100.

The Weimar Corps, almost entirely horse, had 4000, to become 8,500.

The Forces of the Landgrave of Hesse had 8000, to become 18,400.

Garrison troops had 12,561, to be increased to 17,975.

In addition, 7200 more foot and 1500 more horse were to come from Sweden itself, thus bringing the total force from the 63,700 foot, 16,000 horse at the end of 1631 to i53,ooo foot and 43,500 horse when the troops now training and forming had joined their respective armies. It was an army far larger than anything yet seen in Germany.

The states show both infantry and cavalry by companies only, and also give the race composition. The prestige of the King, the reports of the way his men were clothed and fed, as well as the state of the country, which often left men little to do but shoulder a pike, all contributed to fill the ranks of as many corps as could be paid and equipped. Further, there was now a large enough cadre of officers trained in the Gustavian method and discipline to ensure the new troops being in reasonably good order. It has often been remarked that the armies with which Gustavus saved Protestant Germany were anything but German, but there is no adequate foundation for this statement, as a glance at the composition returns available will show. In fact, the Protestant Army was far more German than the Imperialist forces, which were largely Italian, Spanish and professional “cut-throat.” Indeed, it is a remarkable commentary on the miserable condition into which the great German or Roman Empire had deteriorated that hardly any, even of the great leaders and principal commanders of the Imperialist side, were German at all. From Wallenstein the Czech and Tilly the Walloon, down through the hierarchy, the German nationality was conspicuous by its absence. The army of Gustavus was Swedish in its core, and the Swedes, with their outlying martial races, Goths, Finns, Smalanders, Livonians, Courlanders, with the priceless Scots Corps, formed the hammer-head, but there were plenty of Germans in the newer corps, especially in those raised since the victory at Leipsic, when German hearts revived to the possibility of escape from the tyranny of foreign rule and religion. But the cause being a Protestant cause, it was a religious rather than a national bond which was responsible for the assembly of the restoring armies, and the matter of nationality in itself was lessened in relative importance thereby.

The Plans of Gustavus for 1632

There are no very definite records or memoranda showing what were the precise plans of the King for his operations to commence in earnest in the spring of 1632. There were no general staffs to prepare and weight data, and leave confidential records for the benefit of the historian. It was perfectly obvious that Gustavus wanted to get at the Imperial troops, either to crush the League or to obtain a definite treaty of neutrality that would not interfere with the eventual restoration of the Protestant States and the Protestant inhabitants of Catholic states to political equality, and to the unmolested enjoyment of their own religious life. As Maximilian had spumed neutrality as proposed again by Richelieu, we may be sure that the defeat of the troops of Bavaria was the immediate objective of the King. It is generally understood that his plans were to move up the Rhine and then come into Bavaria from the west, marching possibly on both banks of the Danube, gaining possession of the bridges as he passed by.

But it must again be emphasised that far more than military problems presented themselves at every turn. Diplomacy, intrigue, propitiation, consideration and, above all, protection of his allies were each and all insistent problems. It is probable that the actual strategical problems were left to themselves till the day of their handling approached. Preparation, the getting ready of the forces on the framework just explained, the persistent quarter-mastering, the provision of clothes, equipment, transport, munitions of war and the sinews of war in the shape of crowns and rixdallers, were the most insistent of his problems of preparation, and again may the student regret that no record of this machinery for these essential requirements is extant. We know that there was nothing hugger-mugger in his preparations, none of that futile leaving such matters to chance and the requisitioning powers of the troops so eloquently described in France during the World War as Le system “ D.” 1 197,000 troops was the total of the Swedish field army that was being prepared, and 197,000 troops, even with modem resources, present no easy problem. In this matter of maintenance there is often a futile allusion to the dictum of the great Napoleon, that “war should support war.” No one knew better than he that war cannot support war; it is only true that when some surprise movement and campaign was to be made, and when the formation of magazines would have revealed plans, did he compel his armies to subsist on the country a few days till magazines could be established. Gustavus, even more thorough than Napoleon, had, as all the military world of the day bore testimony, a service d'amere that was nearly perfect. When the field army was approaching completion, when his magazines were full both of food and munitions, then we may suppose that he would have decided on one of the several possibilities that he must have explored in his mind.

Such possibilities obviously must be considered in the spring, under the conditions that were known when the time to move came, and we shall see that whatever plans Gustavus may have made for an advance up the Rhine, circumstances were to take him towards the Upper Palatinate. Nor is there much evidence that Gustavus in the early stage took the return of Wallenstein and its effect on the situation very seriously, at any rate until such time as that astute mercenary assumed a more definite role than that of drill-master and master-crimp.

Further Operations on the Elbe and Weser

It has been related how, towards the end of 1631, Todt in Mecklenburg and Baner on the Elbe had harried the Imperial garrisons, taken the towns still held by them in the Duchies of Mecklenburg, and how Pappenheim, sent north from Anspach by Tilly, had for the moment relieved Magdeburg and then abandoned the ruined city to meet with a rising by George Duke of Lunenburg. Before leaving Magdeburg, Count Manfield had burnt his barracks and thrown some of his guns into the Elbe, and spiked the remainder, which were no doubt finally reconditioned by Baner when he occupied the pitiful town.

Pappenheim advanced north to Burgdorf and threatened to bum Zell, in the hope of bringing Duke George to reason, but he was compelled to withdraw to the Weser, as related, by the advance of Baner, to whom Gustavus had sent through Thuringia a reinforcement of Weimar troops under their Duke. Baner and the Duke advanced, taking Norheim and several other Imperial towns, and would have gone further had not Gustavus summoned them both to join him for the spring advance, sending the Landgrave of Hesse and his troops to take their place. Actatius Todt was now ordered up from Mecklenburg to join the Bishop of Bremen, and Lunenburg to co-operate with the Landgrave and dear all the Imperialists from the right bank of the Weser. Pappenheim was not slow to benefit by the change of command, and, intervening between the Landgrave and the Duke of Lunenburg, was able to deal a blow at both before they could unite. The Count then proceeded to relieve Stade, an important post on the left bank of the Elbe besieged by Todt, after first ravaging a wide extent of Hesse territory. His operations against Todt would probably have driven the latter across the Elbe again had not Charles Duke of Saxe-Lunenburg, once forcibly compelled by the Emperor to conform to Catholicism, recanted and risen against the Imperial domination. This forced Pappenheim, who could not subsist his troops, to withdraw towards Hesse, taking the Imperial garrison of Stade with him. With Stade in their hands, the navigation of the Elbe from its mouth was now open to the Swedes, who would be able to receive and land reinforcements from Britain and the Netherlands much more conveniently than in the Baltic ports and rivers. Pappenheim himself, however, was not to leave the scene of his energetic counter-marchings, as he was recalled to join his old chief, Wallenstein, who, as will be related, had at last accepted definite command of the Imperial forces again when the period of his recruiting engagement had expired. Without his inspiring leadership, the remnant of Imperial forces was soon hard pressed by the Protestant troops.

Operations West of the Rhine

Before Gustavus could start on his spring campaign against Tilly it was essential that not only should all the strong places on or near the upper Rhine be in his hands, so that there could be no inroads from the direction of Lorraine on his flanks and rear, but it was also desirable that all the country south-east of the Moselle should be clear of Imperial troops. Further, the King, much incensed by the perfidy disclosed by Maximilian while discussing the Treaty of Neutrality, decided to proceed against the members of the League within his reach, viz. the territories of the Elector-Bishops of Treves and Cologne. These, as the weaker members, were comparatively easy prey. The former had already tried to enter into a treaty with Gustavus, and then succeeded in escaping by placing himself under the protection of France and receiving a French garrison into what is now Ehrenbreitstein. The King was by no means pleased at thus losing rich booty, but, as some tactical compensation, was declared free to pass through the Electorate of Treves and through Coblenz on his way to attack the Elector of Cologne, and was also promised that French troops should help him in clearing the Spaniards out of all the country south of Moselle. As a matter of fact, events were to summon Gustavus to Franconia before he had actually crossed the Moselle, and that river was the boundary of his successes northward and westward.

He was, however, to achieve some considerable successes against the Spaniards before he left. Two Spanish regiments which had pushed across the Moselle as the advance guard of a force of 10,000 men were attacked by the Rhinegrave Otto Louis and severely handled, losing eight of their standards. As more of the Spanish crossed the river to retrieve this reverse the King himself came out from Mainz to meet them, sending them back twice as fast as they came. It was now necessary to capture Creutznach in the Electorate of Mainz, still held by the Spanish, on a river half-way between the Rhine and the Moselle. It was defended by 600 good troops. The Swedes sat down to the siege in the middle of January, when frost had made the ground so hard that few of the trenches could be dug, and the tools were frequently broken. The town was easily dealt with, only the Spanish soldiery receiving short shrift, the Swedish policy of good treatment for the townsfolk being strictly observed. The citadel, whose garrison was composed of Spanish veterans, was stormed by a party of volunteers, principally Englishmen, led by Lord Craven, at the head of his own regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel Talbot was killed on the edge of the breach, Lord Craven and Sir Francis Vane being dangerously wounded. The King himself, as usual at the point of danger, nearly lost his life, a soldier being killed at his side. With Creutznach disposed of, Gustavus returned to Frankfurt to make final preparations for his last campaign to the south.

As soon, however, as news reached the Spaniards of the King’s departure from Mainz for Franconia, they again adopted an active role. The Rhinegrave was now in command on this front, and he fell heavily on the first parties to cross the Moselle, capturing seven more standards and several prisoners of note, whom he sent in to Oxenstiern, now in command at Mainz. A larger force, under the Count de Riedburg and Doh Philip de Sylva, entered the Palatinate, and the Rhinegrave had to fall back.

The Spaniards now succeeded in reaching the Rhine, and invested Spire, which the Swedish governor feebly surrendered. The movements of the Prince of Orange, however, compelled the Spanish troops to fall back, with Oxenstiern and the Rhinegrave in relentless pursuit, inflicting a loss of 2000 men. The Rhinegrave also recovered Spire, so that this incursion caused no severe anxiety to Gustavus, as it must otherwise have done, while before it was time to leave Frankfort came the cheering news that the Rhinegrave had captured all the Imperial or Spanish garrisons left in Wetteravia and made himself master of that province.

Wallenstein as Imperial Generalissimo again

While Wallenstein had been engaged for three months in raising the Imperial levies from Znaim, the Emperor remained in a state of perplexed consternation. He had no Commander-in-Chief other than distant Tilly. Wallenstein had refused to make any promise to assume command of the troop he was raising, and the prospect caused Ferdinand to declare, to the horror of the officers who knew him, that he would lead his armies in person, which he was entirely unfitted to do. The Prince of Eggenburg, who had originally induced Wallenstein to undertake the raising of forces, was sent to him again. It has been related that Wallenstein’s return had been very clearly defined by himself as for the purpose of . getting ready an army, with the spur of his name and prestige for that purpose only. He was to have nothing to do with its use. It is possible that the Duke, to give him his real title, wanted to see which way the cat was going to jump, whether he could still raise an army worth commanding, and if the Imperial cause was worth the backing. In any case, he had retained perfect freedom, and could not only select the moment, but could also demand his own terms as the result of his apparent nonchalance. Prince Eilenburg now not only brought an offer to the Duke to make his own terms, but also brought a personal appeal from Ferdinand himself to save the Empire and the House of Hapsburg. The Duke was not backward in availing himself of the situation, and the following are the terms on which he consented to become once more the Imperial Generalissimo. They certainly meant absolute satisfaction for his original dismissal:—

1. The Duke to be sole Generalissimo of the Emperor, the whole House of Austria and the crown of Spain. No one, whatever his rank, to have any pretension detrimental to his office and authority.

2. The Emperor never to be present with the army, but the King of Hungary, with 1200 men, to establish his residence in Prague, to satisfy the people of Bohemia.

3. The Emperor to grant to the Duke, as a matter of “ ordinary ” recompense, security for his accession to one of the hereditary possessions of Austria.

4. The Duke to possess the direct dominion of all countries recovered for the Empire as “extraordinary ” recompense.

5. All territories which shall be confiscated shall belong to the Duke, and be devoted to his profit. The Duke to have absolute power to pardon and to punish all military prisoners, and letters of respite granted by the Emperor to be null and void unless countersigned by the Duke.

6. All letters of grace and pardon to be granted by the Duke alone, on the grounds that the Emperor was of too merciful a disposition.

7. As soon as a definitive treaty was completed in the Empire, the Emperor shall bind himself to include in it the Duke of Friedland, and to maintain his interests in the Duchy of Mecklenburg.

Such were the extraordinary demands of the mercenary soldier, yet so dire were the straits and so low was the condition in which the once-haughty Empire of Austria had fallen, that Ferdinand accepted them without demur.

The Duke of Friedland, not unnaturally elated with the way in which Fate had turned the tables, and with the position that he had made for himself, so exerted himself that the 40,000 men whom he had been commissioned to raise were, in point of view of equipment and personnel, as good as, if not better than any seen in the Empire before. With them he hoped first to drive the Saxons from Bohemia, by way of an aperitif and trial run for his newly raised army, and then turn to the more serious business of meeting Gustavus.

Terms of Peace with Austria

About the same time as the Emperor granted these remarkable terms to the Duke of Friedland, Gustavus caused to be known those on which he was prepared to make peace with Ferdinand. They are complete enough to describe accurately all that the King of Sweden had come into the field to bring about, and the last clause, if genuine, certainly gives ample ground for believing in the ambitious projects which Gustavus now entertained. But at the same time, as has been pointed out, the victor is entitled to recompense, and the best security for the stability of such an arrangement would have been the bringing of Gustavus, had he survived, into the warp and weft of an Empire in which Protestant equality was to be the governing feature.

The main heads of the conditions published are said to have been as follows :—

1. The Edict of Restitution issued by the Emperor to be repealed and ever to remain so.

3. The Protestant and Catholic religions to have full, equal and entire liberty in town and village, whether under secular or ecclesiastical princes.

3. Bohemia, Moravia and Silesia to be restored to their former condition and all banished persons and exiles to be recalled.

4. The Count Palatine Frederick V to be restored to his position in Bohemia and elsewhere, the Electorship to be reconferred on him, and the Duke of Bavaria to relinquish all claim.

5. The Evangelical religion to be restored in Augsburg and the city placed in possession of its former liberty.

6. All Jesuits without exception to be banished from the Empire as enemies of the laws and the Germanic constitutions, and disturbers of public tranquillity.

7. All the monasteries seized in the Duchy of Wurtemberg contrary to justice to be restored and placed in their former condition.

8. His Royal Majesty of Sweden, having saved the Empire from total subversion, to be elected King of the Romans.

It has been held that this last proviso does actually adumbrate an election to the Imperial throne at some future date, but to be an Elector alone does make such an election possible, and again, so competent a world- compeller as the King of Sweden need take no shame that such possibilities crowded on his imagination.

Gustavus had given some further intimation of his ambitions in proposing to Goetze, the Chancellor to the Elector of Brandenburg—a matter that he had, indeed, broached the year before—that his daughter Christina should marry the Elector’s son, and that the latter should be educated in Sweden, saying that he would make the young Prince Elector of Mainz and Duke of Franconia; and, in a more expansive moment, he even suggested the boy as the future King of Poland.

XIV.—

THE VICTORIOUS SPRING CAMPAIGN OF 1632

Marshal Horn in Franconia—Tilly Drives Hom on to Gustavus— Gustavus Collects his Forces and Starts up the Maine—The Marches to the Danube—The Astounding Passage of the Lech—The Death of Tilly—Gustavus at Augsburg—The Dismay of the Catholics.

Marshal Horn in Franconia

WHILE in the last weeks of the winter the main army on the Rhine had. been driving the Spaniard from the lower Palatinate and the Electorate of Mainz, Hom, who had been left to hold the line of the Maine and recruit his new regiments and companies, had been engaged in operations against the territories of the Bishop of Bamburg.

That prelate, on the approach of Gustavus in the autumn, had purchased immunity by entering into a treaty of neutrality on terms proposed by Gustavus. But as soon as the Swedish army had passed on to the Rhine he had sent to Tilly, asking for immediate succour. The King, who had been greatly incensed at this duplicity had ordered Hom to proceed against him. After marching up the Tauber to Mergentheim, and thence to Heilbron on the Neckar, clearing Swabia of Catholic troops, he moved to Windsheim. Thence he proceeded to Bamberg. Hom arrived before the town itself on February 1st, and demanded immediate rendition. The town, considered indefensible, had been abandoned by the Imperial troops, and the local authorities opened the gates on the promise of safety. Just as the agreement had been signed, however, 500 Imperial militia arrived, and were secretly admitted, whereon the burghers seized their arms and opened a heavy fire both of musketry and artillery, just as the Swedes were awaiting admission. Finding that fighting was to be expected, their superior discipline soon enabled them to secure the walls and blow in the gates, when the militia fled. Then the townspeople, after at first attempting to defend themselves in the town hall, eventually dispersed to their homes in hourly dread of massacre, after the custom of the Imperialist troops in similar circumstances. The Swedes, however, merely formed up under arms in the market square till the morning, when, without other injury to the inhabitants, the Jesuit college and the houses of the leading burghers responsible for the perfidy were given over to pillage. With Bamberg in his possession, Hom now moved south of the Maine on Forcheim.

Tilly Drives Horn on to Gustavus

In the meantime Tilly, who was at Nordlingen with his troops, disposed to meet an anticipated advance by Gustavus into the Upper Palatinate, had been besought, as was Maximilian, by the Bishop of Bamberg to come to the rescue of his territories. Maximilian now ordered Tilly to march towards Bamberg and fall on the Swedes. This the old soldier, long straining at the leash, and anxious to wipe out the stain of defeat, was only too pleased to do. Summoning his troops from the Palatinate, he first marched on Amberg to meet the Bishop, and then turned towards Neumarkt and Numberg. Arriving in the vicinity of the latter town in the middle of February, and leaving troops to mask it, he led 20,000 men against Hom. Marshal Hom was known as one of the most prominent and successful of the lieutenants of Gustavus, a man after his own heart, and more imbued than any of the others with the principles and views that animated his master. But at this time he must be recognised as labouring under severe personal troubles. His young and beautiful wife, a daughter of Oxenstiern, with her children, had followed him into Prussia when operations had become stationary, but both she and two of her children had been carried off by pestilence a short while before. He who would strive with Tilly had need of all his wits and all the aplomb and determination at his command, and, by reason of his sad loss, was not himself.

The unfortunate Protestant state of Anspach was the first to experience the horrors of being overrun by the Imperialists, who devastated in their usual ruthless manner.

Horn’s siege of Forscheim had been impeded by heavy rain followed by severe frosts, and as Tilly advanced he abandoned his siege works and fell back on Bamberg. The defences of that town, as he had himself proved, were no great matter, but with the help of field-works he hoped to maintain himself there till Gustavus could come to his assistance. Tilly advanced with rapidity, the bulk of Hom’s troops being new recruitments, and not yet up to the older Swedish standard. A cavalry regiment driven back by Tilly’s dragoons spread panic to a new infantry battalion, and the disorder spread to other troops, who abandoned their works. Tilly’s troops were now pressing on in force, and with difficulty the marshal himself, with a regiment of horse and a battalion, held back the Imperialists till the bridges could be ready for destruction. Thus, saving his artillery and baggage, he crossed the Maine, abandoned Bamberg and moved down the right bank to Hassfurt. Tilly occupied Bamberg, and then moved over the Maine to attack Hom again. The latter, however, had fallen back via Schweinfurt on the sharp bend of the river, whence the road to Wurzburg cuts across the bend, and fell back to Geldersheim, while Tilly stayed to besiege the force of three corps left in Schweinfurt by Hom to hold that very important river crossing

The King was naturally much annoyed at this reverse, practically the first experienced for many months, which was calculated to stimulate the Imperial prestige, and it also compelled him to re-adjust his original plans for advancing against Bavaria. The sad incidents just related of Horn’s personal losses were generally held to have injured for the time the clearness and vigour of his judgment.

Gustavus Collects His Forces and Starts up the Maine

The troops of the main army under his own command had been thoroughly rested and fed during the winter in their billets in and round Mainz, but Gustavus and his principal officers were too experienced in war to let them get soft and overfed. They each and all in turn had work to do, and by the end of February were at the height of their form, well clothed, well fed, well rested and yet in active trim.

And, as has been said, Gustavus was believed to have planned an advance into Bavaria via the Rhine valley, and then through Wurtemberg. Todt was still on the Weser, and Baner on the Elbe; the Rhinegrave was watching the Electors of Cologne and the Rhenish princes. With rear and flanks protected, we may imagine the King planning his principal offensive with some freedom from care, and intending to leave Hom to move forward in Swabia to conform with his advance, via perhaps Numberg, or even west of that line. But the successful offensive of Tilly into Franconia and the retreat of Gustavus Hom had perforce switched his plans to what was probably a considered alternative. He would march into Franconia via Frankfurt and Aschaffenburg on the Maine, and march straight for wherever Tilly could be brought to battle, and he immediately ordered his army of 25,000 men that were to form his principal striking force to concentrate at Hochst, on the road to Frankfurt, where he reviewed them amid scenes of enthusiasm on March 6th.

Gustavus took farewell of his Queen, who had accompanied him some way beyond Frankfurt, at Steinheim, with quiet forebodings in his heart that his fate would lie this year before him. Having said goodbye, he and his army marched in echelons up the Maine to Aschaffenburg, and thence to Lohr, where he rested on the 16th, having sent word to Schweinfurt to be of good heart and to the sturdy town of Numberg that he was coming post haste to its succour, for the memory of the fate .of Magdeburg ever lay heavy on his mind, however free of blame his conscience. To such good purpose had he marched that between March nth and 14th he had concentrated his own force, and joined it with that of Horn, at Kitzingen, the bridge on the Maine on its long southern bend, where the road from Wurzburg to Neustadt crossed the river.

When Gustavus had moved up the Maine, Tilly had withdrawn from Hassfurt towards Bamberg, realising that he was not strong enough to face the joint forces of Gustavus and Horn, and compelled to abandon, owing to the rapid march of the Swedes, an intention to beat up Oxenstiern at Mainz. At Kitzingen the King heard what was not then true: that Tilly had moved to the Upper Palatinate, whereas he lay at Bamberg till the 14th.

Gustavus then decided that if that be true he would not follow him, but would march direct into Swabia on the way for the Danube and Bavaria, and he had ordered Baner from the Elbe and Duke William of Weimar to march to join him forthwith, which would give him 45,000 men. |

When these reinforcements had come within reach of him he started towards Numberg via Windsheim on the 16th to x8th, arriving at Furth, near that town, on the 20th.

Tilly himself, however, at this stage had no intention of moving to the Upper Palatinate, and was also moving on to Numberg, up the Regnitz, which joined the Maine at Bamberg from the south after collecting his outlying troops at Jorcheim, whence he moved south through Erlangen.

It was probably some rumour of the intentions of the Elector Maximilian that had reached the King. The former, anxious that the scene of war should remain as distant from Bavaria as possible, had ordered Tilly into the Upper Palatinate, in the belief, which was not unreasonable, that Gustavus would follow him wherever he went. When Tilly received these orders he did actually turn towards the east, and moved on Altdorf, and from thence further into the Palatinate towards Neumarkt, where he waited to see if Gustavus would follow, but the Cabinet of Bavaria had refused to approve a policy that left the state defenceless, and Maximilian could but cancel ,his orders and order Tilly to bring his troops to the Danube.

The Marches to the Danube

From Windsheim the advance of the Swedes had been more leisurely, as the King tarried for his reinforcements to march in to his camps, but now, hearing that no one was in front of him, Gustavus decided to march straight for Donauworth and the Danube bridges that gave access to Bavaria itself. The town of Numberg, which had recently braved the wrath of Tilly by declaring for Gustavus and had twice defied the Imperialist when he had appeared before it, was too near not to be visited. Leaving the bulk of his force at Furth, Gustavus set out for the town, accompanied by the King of Bohemia, otherwise the ex-Elector Palatine, and a numerous escort, as well as a retinue of German nobles and princes. He was met outside by a brilliant body of the well-to-do youth of the city organised as horse, and a long calvacade of the carriages of the wealthy citizens bringing wives and daughters to greet him. The King was then formally received with immense pomp and display by the wealthy town, and with the greatest enthusiasm. The garrison and the burgher guards were under arms, brightly clothed, the streets were hung with tapestry, and the windows crammed with spectators, who called down blessings on the deliverer of the Protestant faith. On arrival at his hotel, Gustavus was presented with four highly finished cannon, a considerable present in money and six wagons of provisions. Probably no previous reception had so cheered the King by its genuine enthusiasm and recognition of all that his actions stood for.

Two days, however, were as much as Gustavus could spare for his friends in Numberg, while his troops closed up on Furth, and he departed to continue his advance, taking with him a number of Capuchin friars as hostages for several important residents in the neighbourhood whom Tilly had arrested and carried away to Neumarkt.

The points of crossing the Danube at which Gustavus aimed were Donauworth, where the Wormitz river joins the Danube, and Hochstadt, some ten miles higher up that river, and from Furth he directed his army through Swabach, Weissenbourg and Monheim; while Augustus, Prince Palatine of Sulzbach, led a detachment on Hochstadt. Gustavus himself arrived in front of Donauworth on March 26th and summoned the town in the usual manner. Maximilian, Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg, the Governor, was in command, with 1500 foot and 500 horse, and encouraged by a report of the approach of Tilly, replied haughtily to the summons of the King that he had nothing but powder and lead and swordpoints for the King’s reception, but he was welcome to that. The King immediately set his batteries on Mount Schellenburg, opposite the walls on the left bank, and proceeded to attack the lower town. The magistrates within, anxious to save the town, had implored the Duke to withdraw, but the expectation of Tilly’s arrival buoyed up the garrison, while the former, with the Danube bridge in rear of his defence, felt that he could withdraw when pressed. Gustavus had, however, sent Hepburn, under cover of darkness, over the Wormitz, with orders to work round to the bridge, while he vigorously bombarded the defences in front. A body of Bavarians, endeavouring to rejoin the Duke, were prevented from coming over the river, and during the night the Duke sent his wagons away. The noise of this warned the Swedes that the garrison was .endeavouring to get clear. The Scots under Hepburn were now on the bridge, and the Imperialists, led by the Duke at dawn, had to cut their way across with considerable loss, added to by fire from the Swedish guns brought to bear on the defile. The garrison thus did not get over without a loss of 500 men, in addition to a portion of them entangled in the town defences, which the King himself assaulted while Hepburn held the bridge. Donauworth was now in Swedish hands, and the Imperial troops thus fighting obtained little quarter, while the Swedes even broke into houses, without, however, hurting the inhabitants. The Provost establishment of the King’s army was by now too well trained to allow the troops to get out of hand for long, and order was soon restored, so that the brilliant feat of arms that gave the Protestant forces access to Bavaria and a passage over the Danube was not seriously marred by any excesses. Ten miles to the west, Augustus Sulzback was equally successful in securing Hochstadt, in spite of a garrison stronger than that of Donauworth, and the King was thus in possession of two points of passage within supporting distance of each other, having penetrated over 150 miles of Imperial territory since leaving Mainz without encountering any resistance till he reached the Danube.

Tilly, however, was now marching hard from his sidetrack in the Palatinate to interpose between Gustavus and his further progress into Bavaria. Crossing the Danube at Ingolstadt, he drew up his army on the far bank of the river Lech, which runs into the Danube a few miles below Donauworth, and effectively barred further advance into Bavaria and the road to Munich, the capital. Here he was joined by the Elector Maximilian himself, now forced to face for the first time the Protestant armies and their champion in person.

The appearance of the Swedes on the Danube and the capture of Donauworth had already gained the .King many adherents. The Duke of Wurtemberg declared in his favour, and the towns on the Danube above Hochstadt, all wealthy and full of resources, were distinctly friendly, which materially simplified the problem of supply.

The Astounding Passage of the Lech

The arrival of the Imperial forces, which were also the forces of the League, on the banks of the Lech brings the campaign to the next great struggle between the Swedish and the Catholic forces, one of the most brilliant military successes in history, and also to the ringing to evensong of the career of the veteran Imperial leader.

The River Lech, which rises in the Tyrol, after washing the walls of Landsburg and Augsburg, runs with great force and swiftness through broken marshy banks into the Danube, close to the town of Rain. Tilly’s right flank rested on the Danube itself, and his left in the town of Rain. Redoubts had been built all along the low-lying river bank and joined by entrenchments. Heavy guns were planted along the front at intervals, and the whole of the fords up to Augsburg were in Imperial hands, the bridges had been destroyed and the towns occupied. Close behind the position ran the small stream of the Ach, and behind the Ach heavy forests, in which most of Tilly’s army lay.

On both banks lay a marshy plain, which was in front of the Catholic position, though in modem times this has been drained by the canalisation of the Lech. To attack the combined forces of Bavaria and the League, who now lay behind it, meant the crossing of the rapid river and the threading of the marshy ground both before and after the passage of the river.

To the Imperialists it seemed inconceivable that the Swedes should attack them on such a front, embodying so strong a line of redoubts behind so difficult and so marshy a river. Not so the King. Assembling his forces south of the Danube at Nordheim, he there held a conference. All his principal commanders, including Marshal Hom, saw no possible chance of success in a direct assault and an attempt to cross the not-very-approachable Lech, but Gustavus did not at all relish the alternative of a detour to the south of Augsburg. On April 3rd he carried out a daring personal reconnaissance, exposing himself very freely, and even carrying on a conversation with an Imperialist sentry somewhat after this fashion :—

“ Good morning, Mein Herr. Where is old Tilly ? ”

“Thank you, Herr Tilly is in his quarters at Rain.

Where is the King, comrade? ”

“ Oh, he’s in his quarters too ! ”

“ Why, you don’t say the King gives you quarters.”

“ Oh, yes, indeed. Come over to us, and you shall have fine quarters.” And the King rode away, laughing heartily.

The prime object of the King’s personal reconnaissance was to see whether the Lech could be crossed at all, and if so by what nature of bridge. The river was running fiercely, swollen by melting snow, and would be forty or fifty yards wide. He had learned that the Bavarians, with the Elector himself, were on the Imperialist’s right, posted on the top of gentle slopes which ran down to the marsh on the right bank of the Lech, and were themselves among the thick woods that crowned the slopes. Tilly with the troops of the League was on the Imperial left, holding the town of Rain.

As the result of his reconnaissance, Gustavus had formed the conclusion that the river could be crossed in the teeth of the defenders, and had decided that he would make the attempt whether his generals liked it or not. He cut short their deliberations, which took place again after his reconnaissance, saying, " What shall we who have crossed not only the Baltic, but also the Oder, the Rhine and the Danube, turn back from the Lech, a stream which can scarcely be dignified with the name of a river ? ” The generals ceased their objections, but perhaps the King himself alone had confidence in his daring plans.

The spot that he had selected lay a mile above Rain, where the river swept round in a bend towards the Swedish side between that town and Theirhauppen. Here the King saw that he could dominate with a converging fire of artillery and musketery the ground within the bend on the Imperialist side. While the King was carrying out his reconnaissance he moved his divisions down towards the Lech, during which the enemy’s artillery opened freely and disclosed their positions. To conceal his actual intentions, Gustavus had recourse to what we are perhaps inclined to imagine to be a modem invention —that of a smoke screen. Fires were lit all along the bank and fed with damp rushes, so that the clouds of smoke enveloped long portions of the valley of the Lech. Under this seventy-two Swedish cannon were brought into action to dominate the bend, and on the night of April 6th the work was entirely finished. The first plans for a floating bridge were found impossible, from the force of the current, and finally trestles heavily weighted were prepared in a village half a mile from the bank. As the bridge was nearly completed a forlorn hope of 300 Finnish soldiers, stimulated by an offer of ten dollars apiece, were put across to entrench a hasty bridge-head. This successfully achieved, Gustavus, who had sent some cavalry to attempt a ford a little higher up, led his infantry, followed closely by some light artillery, across on the morning of the 5th.

Now was to come that portion of the task which the Swedish generals had contemplated so anxiously—the threadings of the marshy ground on the far bank and the deployment to advance against the redoubts and trenches waiting for them on the gentle slopes that rose from the river. The cannonade since the previous day had been incessant, and with the fires still caused heavy palls of smoke to envelop both positions. But Tilly had by now realised the point at which his adversary was crossing, and concentrated the greater portion of his guns to meet it, and commenced felling abattis on the front of his entrenched position. The Finnish infantry having established themselves, the first reinforcements set to work to increase the bridge-head defences, and this, together with the fact that a steeper bank on the Imperialist’s side gave some protection, enabled the infantry to deploy without severe loss. It was not, however, till four in the afternoon of the 5th that the King had enough men ready to lead them forward. In the meantime the party of cavalry sent to explore the ford got over and led the whole of the Swedish cavalry across, who now appeared, threatening the Imperialist left. Tilly then brought his masses of infantry down to attack the deploying Swedes. But the King had posted Wrangel’s musketeers along the bank among the osiers, and their fire wrought heavy losses among Tilly’s infantry, while the Imperial cavalry were heavily charged whenever they emerged from the woods.

The Death of Tilly

More of the Swedish infantry filed across the bridge during the night of the 6th, and deployed to their right, while the Imperial troops formed up in masses outside their woods, and on the 7th the mass of the Swedish artillery also filed across. Again and again the Imperialist infantry endeavoured to drive the Swedes back on the marshes of the Lech. Then came the finale to what need not have been a decisive engagement at that stage. Tilly himself, leading forward the masses of infantry in one of the attacks, was struck on the thigh by a three-pounder shot from a falconet, and was carried off the field fainting from the intense agony. His second-in-command, Count Altringer, at once took command, but he too was struck on the temple by a grazing bullet and had to be carried off the field. That was the end of the counter-attack from the Imperialist position, which not only had a fair prospect of driving the Swedes to confusion in their daring enterprise, but still had behind it the impregnable position on the edge of the woods. The command now fell to Maximilian, in whose qualities as a leader no one had any confidence. The Bavarian troops, secure behind their redoubts and in their woods, had not been heavily engaged. Holding a council of war that night, Maximilian, advised, it is said, by Tilly, who would not have been in a state to give good advice, decided to withdraw, and by morning the troops of the Elector were well on the road to Neuburg. The League troops, who had borne the brunt of the fighting, extricated themselves as best they could, the Swedes bivouacking on the slopes up which they had fought.

Pursuit was not in those days a practice of war, and it has been said that relentless pursuit to exploit a victory to the fullest was first introduced into modem war by Napoleon and his active troops. Certainly Gustavus was always satisfied with the actual victory on the field, and in this case, as before, instead of pressing on, immediately set about in his usual manner, making good all that he had gained and exploiting the political advantages that another victory must bring in its train. The losses of the belligerents have never been accurately stated; those of the Imperialists have been variously computed at between 2000 and 4000 men, and those of the Swedes at half the Imperialist numbers. On the 7th, as the mass of his artillery and the remainder of his infantry were filing over the river, Gustavus inspected the position which the Imperialists had abandoned during the night, and was astounded that it should have been quitted. “If I had been the Bavarian,” he observed, “ I would not have quitted such a post as this even if a cannon shot had carried away my beard and half my chin.”

The dying Imperialist commander-in-chief had been driven in a carriage in great pain to Ingolstadt, much harassed by the rude surgical methods of the day, and he passed away a fortnight later.

Gustavus had sent his own body surgeon to attend his adversary, a “gesture”—to use a foolish modem word—prompted by his personal regard for the enduring military qualities of the old soldier. But a smashed thigh and the shock of a blow from a three-pound iron ball at seventy-two years of age would probably have been too much even for the most modem skill.

Before his death he had a long interview with Maximilian, impressing on the Elector the importance of holding adequately the town of Ratisbon and its crossing of the Danube, and recommending that his lieutenant, Cratzen, should be appointed to command in his place. Then, unfit for more counsel, the dying soldier pleaded for quiet and time to make his peace with God. Indeed, history has always spoken of him as an earnest Catholic, however devoid of human ruth, and however like the Church of Rome of his time—convinced that fire and sword and the stake was the kindest way to save a heretic from his sins. The personal misery of his end, in intense pain and physical torture, and in the hour of defeat and broken human pride, may have seemed to those who watched even to have balanced the enduring horror of Magdeburg. Maximilian was much moved at the interview with his general, who had always served him so faithfully, and at the pathos of his last words. The old soldier, it is said, died with the words “Ratisbon! Ratisbon!” for the safety of which he was so anxious, on his lips.

To his own army the loss of their veteran was a very great grief, so deep was the affection of the mercenaries for “Father Tilly.” Gustavus had always had a sincere regard and admiration for his ability as a soldier, and, according to Monro, in his desire to do justice to him said, “ The honourable old Tilly, whose acts were so heroic that after his death they were his everlasting monuments, making his name eternal.” To which the dour Monro himself adds, “ And my wish were that I might be as valiant in advancing Christ’s kingdom as he was forward in hindering it.”

Gustavus at Augsburg

As soon as the Swedish forces had straightened themselves out, the town of Rain, which endeavoured to hold out, was carried at the sword’s point and put under a heavy contribution to save itself from pillage. But of all places Augsburg, the cradle of the Reformation, was the one place that the Protestant champion desired to free from Imperial and Catholic domination. A free town itself, it had been obliged to receive an Imperial garrison, which had taken care to see that the duress placed on Protestants was not departed from.

Augsburg itself lay on the Lech, some fifty miles above its junction with the Danube, and on the road from Donauworth to Munich, the capital of Bavaria, half-way between the two towns. Gustavus moved the bulk of his troops up the right bank of the Lech on April 8th, arriving in sight of the town next day; his heavy artillery, however, too much for the bridges over the Lech, marched on Augsburg by the left bank. A force was also sent up the Danube to Neuburg, on the road to Ingolstadt, along which Maximilian had retired, crossing the river at the latter place, charged with collecting supplies and contributions from the country abandoned by the Imperialists.

At Augsburg the victorious Swedes were to meet with some quite unnecessary delay, as the town and citizens were all in their favour. The Austrian regular garrison too had been withdrawn, but the town was still garrisoned by several hundred militia under Colonel de Trebieres, who broke down the bridge and refused to surrender. Gustavus then planted his batteries for an attack, threw two bridges and wrote to the magistrates urging on them the folly of any unnecessary bloodshed. Fortunately Marshal Hom, who conducted the operations, was able to persuade the governor to surrender the towns if allowed to march out unmolested to Ingolstadt.

Thus the cradle of Protestantism was for the moment freed, and Gustavus entered the town in state, as at Frankfurt, and was received with enthusiasm and rejoicings as great as those which greeted him at Numberg. With the King there rode through the city the King of Bohemia, the Counts-Palatine of Sulzbach, Duke William of Saxe-Weimar, and a long train of Princes, soldiers and ambassadors, amid the cheers of the inhabitants. Gustavus then proceeded to the Church of St. Anne to hear the Te Deum sung, amid the roar of artillery salutes from camp and ramparts. After the singing of the Te Deum the King repaired to the market place, where the magistrates took an oath of allegiance to Gustavus as their lawful king and ruler. Before the capitulations were signed there had been prolonged negotiations, which had resulted in this new form of agreement. Never before had the King demanded an oath of allegiance to himself, and the form which it took created a sensation, and has been referred to as one of the greatest mistakes he ever made. The course of events, however, were such that no particular evil results had actually emerged, and there is perhaps no fair ground for so sweeping an assertion. Certain it is, however, that it gave rise to a great deal of talk and surprise, and was freely quoted as evidence of the aborbing ambition with which Gustavus was now animated.

It seems possible, however, that it was but an attempt, born of the many lapses from agreements and treaties on the part of those who had submitted, which had occurred during the last year, of obtaining some more binding formula, an infringement of which would have justified him in exacting severe penalties. Naturally the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony took great exception to the formula, and Louis XIII of France was most open in his denunciation of it. The townsmen of Augsburg itself were equally critical, though, as has been said, it is not at all clear what Gustavus really had in his mind when imposing this particular form of obligation.

The Dismay of the Catholics

The dismay of the Catholics at the Swedish victory on the Lech was very great. Cardinal Pasman, the Imperial ambassador at the Court of Rome, is reported to have said, ”The play is over; we may now drop the curtain.” And this sentiment was one that was universal both in Austrian and Catholic circles. The death of Tilly, the well-known military insufficiency of the Elector Maximilian and the general absence of any strong force or competent commander between the Lech and Vienna were patent to all. The Emperor himself was in a state of great consternation, relieved a little, however, by the confidence that Wallenstein evinced in the army he was just completing, and with which he had already begun to drive the Saxons from Bohemia.

To Gustavus at Augsburg the views of his allies at the oath exacted from the town seemed to matter little. He was intent on resting his army in good quarters, and once again resisted all attempts to make him march on Vienna. He preferred his own methods of consolidation, and troops in rear of the main army were engaged in reducing all the garrisons of Imperial or League troops between himself and the Rhine. Norglingen in Franconia, Memingen, Kemten and Landberg in Swabia were compelled to receive Swedish garrisons, and the troops of Gustavus actually reached to Lake Constance in the process of wiping up the detachments. For some days the King himself remained in Augsburg, amid fêtes and festivities, and then, just as folk were beginning to say that he was giving way to luxury and was tired of fighting, he started forth once more.

XV.—

GUSTAVUS AND WALLENSTEIN FACE TO FACE

Gustavus Marches for Ingolstadt—The Movements of Wallenstein —The Occupation of Munich—Perturbation of the Emperor —Gustavus Marches to Support the Saxons—The Leaguer of Numberg—The Drawn Battle and the Breakaway.

Gustavus Marches for Ingolstadt

After his withdrawal from the battlefield on the Lech, Maximilian had headed for Ingolstadt, and had taken up a position on the north bank of the Danube. Ingolstadt itself, reputed to be of great strength, was held by a strong detachment under a nephew of Tilly, and a bridge of boats had been constructed beside the stone one. Two strong redoubts had been thrown up on the south bank as bridge-heads.

A few days after his formal entry into Augsburg, Gustavus called in his detachments and started his troops for Ingolstadt, Hom with the cavalry leading. By the 28th the Swedes had marched close on forty miles, and were within eight miles of the Danube, and on the 29th Gustavus attacked the bridge-head opposite Ingolstadt. He was repulsed with some loss, and went into camp opposite the town on the same day. Next morning the King must needs reconnoitre in the most daring way, and nearly lost his life, his horse being killed by a fourteen-pound shot, he himself rolling under it, shaken and his side grazed by the ball. Nevertheless Gustavus suffered no serious injury, and made light of the occurrence. His favourite, the young Margrave of Baden-Durlach, had his head carried off close by.

Maximilian, whose artillery had assisted in the Swedish repulse on the 28th, now decided to withdraw to Ratisbon, after increasing the garrison in Ingolstadt, and left his camp on the north bank on May 2nd.

The loss of the Margrave, who was equally popular with the Army as he was beloved by the King, affected the latter greatly, and when his officers approached Gustavus to sympathise with him and remonstrate also at this continued rashness on his own part, he spoke to them at length, both on the loss of the Margrave and regarding himself. His note was still that of fatalism. He was the instrument of the Almighty, who knew when He had finished with His servant. He dwelt on his reasons for leaving his own country and on the calumnies which his enemies circulated regarding his actions : “ I am not ignorant that my success has excited the envy of many who endeavour to persuade the credulous that I am only seeking to enrich and aggrandise myself. ... If I have left my kingdom and all I hold dearest in the world, it has been with no other view than to oppose the tyranny of the House of Austria and to bring about a secure and honourable peace. For the rest, I have received thirteen wounds, some off which have been considered mortal. They have, indeed, been cured, but they continue to preach to me my liability to death, and the peril of to-day has impressed it still more powerfully on my mind.”

On May 2nd Maximilian withdrew from his camp on the north bank of the Danube and set off for the free and largely Protestant town of Ratisbon, forty miles further down the river. Gustavus, anxious to ensure that no crossing of the Danube in his rear should remain in Imperial hands, set himself down to besiege Ingolstadt, several spirited attempts to secure the redoubts on the south bank being repulsed.

While at Ingolstadt, an embassy arrived from Christian of Denmark with the object of representing the Emperor’s desire for mediation, but it is thought that Christian had undertaken this office more with the view of pleasing the despairing Emperor than with any hope of success, and beyond the exchange of courtesies it does not seem that anything serious resulted.

The representation of King Christian on behalf of the Emperor was to be followed by another from the French, made on this occasion by St. Etienne, the envoy at the Court of Bavaria, who came to Ingolstadt to make another attempt at bringing about the oft-discussed neutrality of the League, or at any rate of Bavaria. But Gustavus had the most complete distrust of the genuineness of anything that came from Maximilian, and could only believe that the Elector was playing for time. He knew that Wallenstein had 50,000 men under arms and the Elector 30,000 more, while the disposable Swedish forces in the main theatre of war were still not more than 40,000. St. Etienne, however, was most persistent and none too tactful. So much so that he drew down on himself a severe rebuke. " I pardon your ignorance,” said the King, “ but you forget yourself, and pass beyond the limits even of French familiarity. You are utterly unacquainted with the terms of agreement between your master and myself. I am confident that you have had no instructions from your own Court to come here on behalf of the Duke of Bavaria. . . . Since you have come here to plead for the Elector, let your conduct be a little more like that of a person who requests a favour.”

St. Etienne then assumed a more courteous demeanour, and asked the King to specify his conditions, to which he got the brief reply, “ When the Duke has laid down his arms, then I will make him acquainted with my intentions.” On a further request he gave his terms of granting neutrality to the Elector—the dismissal of all his troops save a small residue, an oath not to make war against Sweden for three years and security for the fulfilment of the conditions. St. Etienne had no power to accept, and then withdrew, but remarked that Maximilian had no power over the League troops. This angered the King, who remarked against the prevarication involved in such a statement. St. Etienne again angered the King by remarking that France might withdraw her support, whereon the latter spoke very freely, saying that he knew the mind of the French King through M. Charnace. St. Etienne then withdrew to report to Maximilian. The latter on his way to Ratisbon had paused and turned aside to Munich. On hearing of the result of the negotiations, he continued his march on Ratisbon, which he secured by a subterfuge, and the Imperial troops then proceeded to vent their anger and spite in the most ruthless way on the Protestants; indeed it was not till injunctions came from the Emperor himself that Maximilian called his troops to order.

The Movements of Wallenstein

It is now time to turn aside from the victorious proceedings of. the Swedish forces and survey the army that the Duke of Friedland had been diligently forging from his retreat at Znaim, and the first operations he had undertaken to flutter its wings. By February the three months of preparation had been concluded, and the Duke had received the astounding charter from the Emperor that has been described. The army thus raised included the best of the mercenaries of Europe who were not already serving in any of the belligerent forces, and, thanks to the grants from Spain and a lavish expenditure from Wallenstein’s own purse, was admirably and even magnificently equipped.

The Saxons, content with holding Prague and the confines of Bohemia, had passed the winter fairly quietly, while Count Arnheim was too good a soldier not to see to the disciplining and training of his once runaway forces, whom we have already seen retrieving their laurels in subsequent minor actions against the Imperialists in Bohemia in the early winter. John George the Elector was away hunting and feasting, oblivious of what was preparing, and seemed to imagine that the prestige of the Protestant arms generally, to which he had contributed little enough, would suffice to let him keep Bohemia as easily as he had acquired it. He had entirely neglected the warnings of Count Arnheim and the demands for reinforcements that that officer had made until it was too late.

In February Wallenstein had collected his army at Znaim, which lay on the main road between Vienna and Prague, 25 miles from the former, and about 150 miles from the latter. To Count Gallas he entrusted the preliminary operation of driving the Saxons from Saatz, which was easily achieved, after which they abandoned the southern portion of Bohemia and withdrew to Annaberg. It is always doubtful how far Arnheim in the latter stages had been got at by his former master, Wallenstein. Never very enamoured of the Swedes, it is said that he may have been at the bottom of Saxon aloofness and vacillation, but he was a trained soldier who knew when troops were good or bad. By the beginning of May Prague itself, first infested by hordes of Croats, was actually attacked. A battery of twenty cannon was set against the walls, but two assaults were resolutely repulsed by the Saxon garrison. Treachery, however, admitted the Imperialists by night, and in the morning the garrison were driven into the citadel, where they eventually surrendered. Arnheim was then encamped at Leitmertz, near the junction of the Rivers Eger and Elbe, and Wallenstein endeavoured, it is said, to detain him there by negotiation while he slipped detachments round to seize the passes behind him between Pima and Aussig in the Hartswald mountains. Arnheim played with his adversary by sending him constant messages, and all the while was getting his artillery and baggage away through the defiles, and then followed rapidly with his infantry and horse before the Imperialists could carry out their design. Wallenstein now laid siege to Eger, which he captured, together with any remaining Saxon garrison left in Bohemia.

The Occupation of Munich

The withdrawal of Maximilian to Ratisbon with his forces left the whole of Bavaria at the mercy of his enemies, and there were many only too eager to repeat the atrocities committed in the Palatinate in revenge therefor. Munich, the capital of Bavaria, now lay, the fairest of prizes, before Gustavus. The magistrates of the capital, not unreasonably expecting that the Protestants had much to repay, were in great apprehension, and sent a deputation to Fregsingen in the hope of propitiating the King. They did not, however, for the moment get more than a promise of their lives and of no vengeance for pitiful Magdeburg. To a plea for further consideration the King ordered his armies to march on. The magistrates themselves, now badly frightened, came out to meet the King with the keys of the city, throwing themselves at his feet.

Gustavus himself, behind his assumed sternness, knew that he was now among those Catholic cities and states with which, if Germany was to survive, an agreement must be come to, and he had not the least intention of being anything but conciliatory, if firm. To the magistrates he said, “You have chosen the wisest course, and disarmed me by your submission. I might have avenged upon your city the miserable sack of Magdeburg. But you have nothing to fear either for yourselves or your property, for your children or your religion. Go in peace. . . . My word once pledged to you is better than all the capitulations in the world.”

They departed to reassure their fellow-townsmen. Their general joy, however, was somewhat dimmed by the information that a ransom or contribution of 400,000 rixdallers would be required of them. On representation this was subsequently reduced by a quarter.

On May 10th, Ascension day, the King entered the town, and proceeded to the Electoral Palace, where prayers were read by a Swedish chaplain. He then proceeded to the Catholic church of Our Lady, and attended the Catholic service with every appearance of devotion. After church he viewed the buildings in the midst of an immense crowd, with whom, after his wont, he conversed. At the College of Jesuits he listened to a long address of welcome from the Rector in Latin, in which language he not only replied graciously, but also entered on a religious disputation, which lasted an hour and was conducted with decorum.

Some of his officers murmured at the tolerant spirit evinced by the King, who chid them, remarking that such people were in the world to discredit the erroneous faith they professed, and were at least worthy of his protection. As on previous occasions, he impressed on all, that Catholics and Protestants were both God’s creatures, an unusual enough attitude in those days of religious ferocity. But we can but remember the stem measures meted out to the Jesuits in his earlier captures, and we may attribute his attitude at Munich to the fact that here they had not been foremost in oppressing Protestant folk, while he had realised how essential was the principle of “ live and let live ” to Germany.

During his stay at Munich, Gustavus was frequently urged, both by the Elector Palatine and the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, to bum at least the Electoral Palace, but to this pleasing suggestion he turned a deaf ear, saying, “ Would you have me imitate the Goths, my ancestors, and make my memory as odious as theirs ? ” Munich had long been famous for a powerful equipment of artillery, both field and wall pieces, and this was not forthcoming, nor could Gustavus hear of it being with the Elector. The carriages were found, but not the actual pieces. Eventually the mystery was cleared up by some who had been engaged in burying the guns revealing their hiding-places. A hundred and forty cannon were unearthed, twelve known as “ The Apostles ” being pieces of great beauty. In the barrel of one culverin of unusual length, known as “ The Great Sow,” 15,000 gold ducats were found, to the King’s satisfaction.

The rank and file were admitted sparingly into Munich, and the utmost order was maintained, Gustavus mixing freely with the people and conversing with them, while giving reviews and weapon-shows to amuse them. So much so that the people of Munich had the greatest regard for him, and were gratified by the ceremonious treatment he accorded their clergy. He presented the Capuchins with large sums for the sick, and was even exhorted by one of them to embrace the ancient form of faith.

Outside the town, however, the Catholic peasantry were very hostile, murdering isolated Swedish soldiers readily, and the King himself had to take out some lighter troops against them.

The Perturbation of the Emperor

Profound as had been the consternation in Vienna at the passage of the Lech, the occupation of Munich still further struck horror. The only fortresses between the capital of Bavaria and Vienna, those of Passau and Lintz, were quite incapable of offering serious resistance, and the road to the heart of the Empire lay bare. The Imperial army had gone off to dear Bohemia, a proper enough proceeding if the Lech had not been passed, Tilly killed and the Army of the League demoralised. Wallenstein was now summoned—nay, implored—by Ferdinand to move to the protection of the capital. Maximilian himself, when Gustavus left Ingolstadt, had moved north, to join with the man to whom he had shown such implacable enmity and to whose humiliation he had so largely contributed. But there was no alternative, with Tilly gone and no leader to his hand, while he could not but have reflected that had he not still preserved his attitude of hostility when Wallenstein had accepted the invitation of the Emperor to return, he might have had more troops from Znaim at his side and need not now have been in his present plight. Whatever his feelings, he had now marched north-east to endeavour to meet the Duke of Friedland, while the latter, abandoning his enterprise in Bohemia, was now marching into the Upper Palatinate in an attempt to draw off Gustavus from the march on Vienna, which he was then expected to make.

Gustavus Marches to Support the Saxons

Gustavus, however, pursuing his own plans and his own train of thought, once again disappointed his advisers by refusing to march on Vienna. Obviously he had little desire yet to commit himself to so hazardous a forward move, with all the new Imperial Army free to move against the lands that he had made good. Further, however feeble of purpose or insincere the Elector of Saxony might be, the King had no intention of deserting an ally. Gustavus therefore withdrew from Munich to Augsburg, whence he could more easily march towards the Saxons and watch the moves of Wallenstein. As soon as he heard that Gustavus had returned to Augsburg, Maximilian conceived the idea of recovering his capital, despatching two of his best officers with a force to do so from Ratisbon. But on arrival before the city they found a strong Swedish garrison drawn up to give them battle, whereon they fell back on Ingolstadt and thence to Weisemburg, where a Swedish garrison kept open the communication with Nurnberg. After a desperate resistance the place fell, and the Imperialists put to the sword all of the garrison who would not transfer their allegiance.

When this occurred the King was on his way to Ulm. He returned at once, called in his detachments and marched for Donauworth, leaving the Duke Bernard of Saxe-Weimar with 2000 horse in Bavaria. The Imperialists then quitted Weisemburg, and communication with Nurnberg was re-established.

At this period of his career Gustavus has often been accused of wavering and indeterminate plans, and his correspondence with Oxenstiern has been quoted in justification of the charge. But even the most inscrutable of commanders does not always wrap his maturing thoughts in secrecy. In corresponding with his Chancellor he no doubt explored the possible courses of action. It is only those who can square their wonderings with the later happenings that cannot be criticized in their trains of thought. Gustavus recognised that, with Wallenstein smashed, the Emperor would be in his hands, while with Wallenstein’s army in being the Emperor could not be induced to agree to terms. Therefore Wallenstein was his objective, and if possible the prevention of the junction of his army and the forces of the League, but how best to act with this object was not yet evident, and while Gustavus was watching, it was clear to him that he must protect Franconia and draw nearer to the Saxons, and if possible attract the army of Wallenstein away from devastating Saxony itself.

Unknown for some little while to Gustavus, however, the junction of Wallenstein and Maximilian had taken place at Eger, on the main road north from Ratisbon, to which place the former had also moved, for the sake of the meeting.

The first interview with the two well-known personal enemies attracted much interest. The former had looked on almost with amusement while Maximilian’s territories were overrun, and had only moved forward to his assistance on the most imperative call from the Emperor. Maximilian, always a master of outward courtesy and dissimulation, greeted his coadjutor affably, but it is said that the emotions of Wallenstein were visible enough from his countenance. A considerable discussion as to respective responsibility took place, but there was no gainsaying the overriding commission with which the Duke of Friedland had been provided by the Emperor, and Maximilian was obliged to be content with a very subordinate part so long as he was with the Duke. The combined Catholic forces now amounted to 60,000 men, and these began to pour down through the defiles of Kaden on to the Palatinate—Walloon, Spaniard, German, Turk, Croat and every sort of wild mercenary, some highly framed and disciplined for fighting, others the wildest of irregular maurauding horse.

The direction of this army on the Palatinate made Gustavus anxious for the safety of Nurnberg, which Wallenstein had more than once threatened to make a second Magdeburg. To a deputation from that city, who arrived in great fear, he gave promise to march at once, bidding them be of good cheer and telling them that there were three cities in Germany he would never abandon, Ulm, Strasburg and Nurnberg, the same which had summoned him to their aid so far back as 1614.

By June 8th, four weeks after his entry into Munich, Gustavus appeared, agreeably to his promise, before Nurnberg, and thence marched on to meet the Duke of Friedland, or to interpose between the Imperialists and the Saxons. From Nurnberg Gustavus marched in three columns to Amberg, reducing Sulzbach and transferring the garrison to his own army. He was, however, still in doubt as to Wallenstein’s movements and intentions, but expected that the latter was certain to make an attempt to crash the Saxons, who were at his mercy. In any case, after leaving his garrisons in Bavaria the main Swedish army was reduced to 16,000 men, and would need reinforcing as soon as some indication of the Imperialist plans could be obtained. He sent the Duke of Saxe-Weimar towards Saxony with 6000 men, but with orders to rejoin him if Wallenstein threatened Nurnberg. He now wrote to John George that he was prepared to march to Dresden to his support, asking that supplies might be collected at various places en route. Then came news that the Austrian patrols had actually approached Sulzbach, and Gustavus then felt sure that Wallenstein was trying to keep his threat against Nurnberg.

The force at the King’s disposal was none too numerous. He had always planned to draw in his outlying forces when the time came, and it has always been a matter for wonder that on this occasion he had not brought them nearer earlier in the summer. The field troops between the Rhine, the Maine and the Danube were as follows :—

The Royal Army at Nurnberg 15,000

Duke of Weimar from the Saale 5,500

Oxenstiem from the Rhine 5,500

Duke of Luneburg from the Weser 3,500

Landgrave of Hesse from Cologne 3,500

Bauditzen from Lower Saxony 5,000

Ten thousand Saxons were also to be at his disposal, the grand total being 30,000 foot and 18,500 horse; Besides this, there were Bernard in Swabia and Baner in Bavaria, who at a pinch could bring several thousands more.

Gustavus now somewhat tardily ordered Oxenstiern and all his generals north of the Danube to come to his support forthwith, while he withdrew himself to Nurnberg, where he intended to make an entrenched camp, in which he could await his reinforcements and block all further advance of the Imperialists into Dranconia.

Nurnberg lay some four miles east of the Regnitz river. The town itself stood on the Pegnitz, which ran out of two small lakes east of the town and into the Regnitz at Furth. South and west of the town was a ring of forest on the left bank of the Regnitz, which to the south of the town spread to both banks. To the great surprise of the Nurnbergers, a huge entrenchment and ring of redoubts began to spring up, at which large numbers of peasantry as well as troops were set to work, surrounding all the camp sites as well as the actual town, which itself formed the inner core. Over 300 cannon were put on the defences of this vast camp, and vast stocks of supplies came in from all sides, for townsfolk as well as the army magazines, while the burghers themselves eagerly enlisted in the guards of the town.

The Leaguer of Nurnberg

Wallenstein was in truth advancing with all the forces at his disposal, boasting that at last he had caught the King of Sweden unprepared, and that he would now make short work of him. But the entrenched camp grew ever more formidable, and as each portion was ready the troops destined to hold it left their camp and marched in. By this time constant encounters between the light troops of both armies were occurring, and indeed a force of Swedish dragoons suffered a heavy reverse in endeavouring, on false information, to capture a train of Imperial artillery near Neumarkt.

Early in July the Imperial and Bavarian forces were finally and fully united outside the latter town, and reviewed by Wallenstein, who was well satisfied with his army. Advancing some miles south of Nurnberg, he crossed the upper waters of the Rognitz, and then, swinging round to the northwards, advanced down the river, capturing Swabach, only to find himself faced by a strong force of Swedish cavalry admirably placed, and commanded by the King himself. Finding this force unassailable, and learning of the strength of the Nurnberg encampment, Wallenstein, remarking that there had been enough fighting, proceeded to advance further down the Regnitz. Finally swinging round again to the east to face Nurnberg, he also entrenched himself amid the woods and ravines of the left bank, having on the left of his position a hill fifty feet above the stream, on which were the rains of the Castle of Alte Veste.

From this position he imagined he would starve the Swedes into surrender. Surveying the situation, it is evident that for once Gustavus had been taken at a disadvantage and his military acumen had been at fault. He had not expected that the combined Imperial and League armies would bear down on him, and he had omitted to draw his outlying forces to himself in time to present a fair front to his enemies, who outnumbered him by three to one. Nevertheless he had for the moment effectively saved the Saxons from pressure, and his own engineering skill and tactical acumen had succeeded in barring the way into Franconia and immobilising the vast force that Wallenstein had at his disposal.

The two commanders, in many ways equally great soldiers, now lay like two wrestlers watching to get the better grip, and all the while the world watched and wondered and believed that the Protestant champion, who so often flouted advice and went his own way, had met his match. And there were many besides his Catholic enemies who rejoiced thereat, and thought that it might be time that the spirit they, as it were, had helped summon from the deep, be put back again. It was but the lesser Protestant States to whom he had been such a charter of liberty, such a rock and such a bulwark, that stood aghast.

And in the midst of it all, firm for the moment behind his well-conceived lines, stood the Lion of the North. Quarter-mastery had stood him in good stead. Neither the good citizens of Nurnberg nor that staunch little army wanted for bite or sup for many weeks. Outside, the Imperialist’s forces had swept down from Bohemia, carrying ruthless fire and sword, more completely in their sour fury than they had ever carried it before. Wallenstein was prepared to exceed all his previous records of inhumanity. Such conduct contains its own nemesis. A devastated country with ravished and burning villages holds no supplies. Much that the army needed perished in such scenes. Instead of the stores of a rich countryside yielding up its surplus generally to good markets and ample ducats, the Imperial army had made a waste and called it peace, and was in straits thereby. The impregnable country and deep ravines among which Wallenstein had taken root poured forth tormenting insects in the height of summer, and what we should in these days designate “ sandfly, fever and malaria,” which helped to reduce the energy of the Imperial troops.

Then Gustavus was able to carry out a feat of energy that practically decided the eventual result of this astounding and prolonged impasse, and what was in reality the defeat of the Imperialist plans, though it was to drag on many weary weeks and, tactically speaking, end in a drawn battle. The hordes of Croats with the Imperial force were detailed to prevent the Swedes from foraging, and fodder and fresh food grew lamentably scarce. Wallenstein had made one unsuccessful attack on a portion of the Swedish position that had seemed vulnerable, but had succeeded in capturing the outlying post of Lichtenau, which cut off communications with Wurtemberg. Then Gustavus heard of an immense Imperial magazine at Freystad, sixteen miles away, in which supplies from all districts had been collected, also a huge convoy of hay of which the Imperial horses were in sore need, and other supplies consisting of 1000 waggons. Two hours before midnight on July 30th the Colonel Dubatel1 who is so often mentioned in all desperate deeds sallied forth with three regiments of dragoons and cuirassiers.2 Unnoticed, this force arrived before Freystad before dawn, blew in the gates with a petard, sabred the small Imperial guard and escort, carried off several hundred waggons of stores, and 1000 head of cattle, and burnt 1000 waggon-loads of hay. To wipe up and destroy a big magazine takes time, and when fugitives from Freystad reached Wallenstein, he hoped that he might at least intercept some of his lost stores, that were worth far more than gold. Eight of his best troops of cavalry and twenty squadrons of Croats poured forth to fall on the returning Dubatel. But Gustavus was not wont to do work by halves. Drawn up to cover the return on the most vulnerable part of the route was the glorious King himself, with 2000 of his best horse. A fierce contest ensued, in which the King exposed himself most recklessly, driving the Imperialists into a wood, where they fought obstinately enough. As the ammunition gave out, they were destroyed, only 150 returning to tell the tale, their commander, Colonel Sparre, and Wallenstein’s brother-in-law, the second-incommand, being captured. Of all the cheering things to a leaguered force, there is none to compare with the bringing in of a captured enemy convoy. Enthusiasm and thanksgiving reigned in Nurnberg, and corresponding depression in the Imperialists’ camp, while Gustavus issued rewards and gold medals to the officers concerned.

The Drawn Battle and the Breakaway

While Gustavus had been in Bavaria, his various lieutenants on the Weser, the Elbe and the Rhine had steadily beaten and reduced the Imperial forces in front of them, and by July were free to obey, without disastrous result, the urgent summons to join the King at Nurnberg. But many of them had long distances to come, and July had drawn into August before Oxenstiern had collected enough men to be worth advancing into Franconia. All the streams of marching columns from north and west had converged on Wurzburg and the crossings of the Maine in its vicinity. By July 13th Oxenstiern was at Wurzburg himself, with 7000 men, only just in time to prevent Imperialist horse from ravaging the Maine valley, and to him now came in quick succession the other marching columns. Baner and Duke Bernard in Bavaria and Swabia, delayed by the need to crush the Imperialist commander Craatz, were now marching north from the Danube on Windsheim. Conditions were serious in both the camps on the Regnitz, but worse with Wallenstein than with the King, but troops on both sides and the townsfolk of Nurnberg were dying of diseases. Something had happened to Wallenstein the scornful, the man who still talked of the “ Snow King,” but who had by now a wholesome admiration for that King’s military talents. No serious attempts to bring the Swedes to battle took place while few in numbers, and the obvious course of endeavouring to prevent the junction of the reinforcements with the leaguered town was left undone.

Gustavus now ordered Oxenstiern to meet him at the village of Bruck, a few miles below Furth on the Regnitz, to which point he sallied forth and built a bridge. On the way to Bruck, Oxenstiern still further contributed to the Imperial discomfiture by capturing a convoy that had been collected at Neustadt. On August 9th he was at Windsheim, where Baner and Duke Bernard joined him, and now, after two days’ rest, he was able to lead his reinforcements, now 28,000 men, to Bruck, which he reached on the 13th to find the King awaiting him. This reinforcement far more than doubled the Royal Army, but thrice embarrassed the supply question. Although the road behind was open enough, the countryside had been stripped bare, and the now large Swedish force was worse off than the original garrison, death and sickness continuing with the Swedish as well as the Imperial forces.

Wallenstein had sent Holke with 6000 men to ravage and burn in Saxony and subsist himself, but the arrival of Fugger with 8000 men countered that relief. Gustavus could stand it no longer, and on August 21st inaugurated a desperate attack on the Austrian position. His own force from Nurnberg and those of Oxenstiern at Brack debouched from their camps for battle. The two forces united at the village of Kleinrut, and formed up in order of battle opposite the Imperial entrenched line on the banks of the Regnitz. That night, the 21st, the Swedes captured the village of Furth, crossed the river and then were in a position to attack the Alte Veste on the Imperial left. All the night the Swedes lay close under the walls of the outer castle, unquestionably the strongest portion of the Imperialist position, but also unquestionably the dominant part, of which the possession must secure the rest. By all the rules of the determined leader, there Gustavus intended to attack, his cavalry on the right against the northern face, where it was weakest, the infantry under his personal direction on the left, closest to the river. Was Gustavus going to be mindful of the remonstrances of his advisers ? Was he going to reserve his essential self for the cares of the haute direction ? He was not! He was going into the fight himself, as he always did, hammer and tongs, and the devil take the hindmost 1 For this desire to lead in person was more and more a vice and an obsession and a complex, for which the private soldier thanked God and cheered again, but of which his generals despaired—not yet, however, the day when the silver cord be loosed and the golden bowl broken. All the 23rd Gustavus lay fortifying his own camp at the foot of the Alte Velte heights. A rumour came that Wallenstein was retiring, but it was false, and Gustavus had followed on with his preparations for an assault next day. At 10 a.m., with green in their hats, the Swedes were launched up the heights crowned by the castle and a triple line of trenches and barricades. It was not possible to bring artillery fire to support the Swedish attack, and only a few light guns could be dragged up the heights.

To the Swedish infantry the prospect of an unsupported storm produced no terrors. They had done it often enough before, and with the King at the head, up the heights they went for what was to all intents a purely infantry battle. Aidringer commanded this flank of the Imperial division position, and to him Wallenstein sent six of his best regiments, and finally the whole army. A hundred Imperial cannon poured their fire from the northern face, to which the Swedish guns on the other bank replied somewhat ineffectively. The musketry was general and sustained. All day long the Swedes stormed and raged against the defences, the King omnipresent, leading charges and bringing up reinforcements. The Imperialists, lean and gaunt from their leaguer, as were their adversaries, equally were fury personified. Losses were heavy on both sides. Fugger was killed and many superior officers, Swede and Imperialist. Torstensen, the gunner commander, was captured, Duke Bernard had his horse shot, Gustavus had his boot-heel shot away. The Duke got into the first defence, and took a hill opposite the castle, and had he had pack artillery he would have seized the castle and dominated the battle. The best of Wallenstein’s cuirassiers were launched to recover ground gained, and Swedish musketeers and pikemen drove them back. For twelve hours the struggle raged, and the Swedish officers again and again called on their men to storm, and again and again the men, weary and none too fit, responded. But the race is not always to the swift or the battle to the strong. At dusk it began to rain, and the slippery hillsides gave no footing. In two more hours, it was afterwards said, the Imperial troops would have finished their ammunition. But the King called a halt. Flesh and blood had had enough, the line would bivouac where it found itself! Early next morning, the King, who had spent the night in his coach by his troops, called for one more effort. At dawn he sallied from the wood he had gained on the top. But, alas! success was not to be, and Wallenstein was soldier enough that the hour of counter-attack had come. At o’clock he launched it with troops that were fairly he drove the Swedes down the hill and over the river, and even recaptured Furth, though without, however, enforcing more than a sullen and orderly withdrawal.

Thus ended in a tactical victory for Wallenstein the first battle between him and the great King. To him the victory, to the Swedes the glory, and to neither the decision. The Swedes lost at least 2000 men, the Imperialists behind their entrenchments a few hundred less, and for fifteen more days the two armies looked at each other from their respective camps. Because the King failed, his selection of his tactical objective has been criticised, but the same might have been said of his daring passage of the Lech, for “ Nothing succeeds like success!”

Gustavus recognised that he had failed for the moment, and sent Colonel Sparre, the cavalry leader, captured in the affair of the grand magazine, to make overtures for negotiation, but Wallenstein referred to Vienna, and nothing came of it. The armies, however, were starving, and many thousands had died, Swedes, Imperialists and the unfortunate townspeople as well. Then Gustavus made his decision. He need no longer stay in leaguer, for he was strong enough to manoeuvre, so he would take the open field, recoup his troops and lay on again. On September 7th he sent a challenge to the Duke of Friedland to come out and fight, but Wallenstein was in no mood for bravado, and sent no reply. Then the King marched out in battle array, filing in full view of the Imperial camp, on the road to Wurzburg and the plentiful valley of the Maine, tempting the Duke to fall on him. But the Duke of Friedland lay low, and the whole of the Swedish force marched off with its trains, unmolested. Gustavus left 6000 men in Nurnberg under Oxenstiern himself, with the balance of*his supplies, knowing that the Imperialists could be in no mood to besiege the place so late in the year, but 24,000 men, after providing for detachments, was all that Gustavus could take to Neustadt and Windsheim. A day or two later Wallenstein broke up his camp too, burning his hamlets, abandoning his baggage, and leaving countless sick, for whom he cared little, to shift as best they could, and giving fire to every village through which he passed. He too had lost heavily, far more so in comparison than the Swedes, and out of the grand array of close on 60,000 men, which he had brought to Neumarkt, but 24,000 trailed after him to Forscheim.

The Swedish garrison in Nurnberg were by no means inactive, and the Imperial rearguards suffered considerably from their enterprise. Thus it was the famous Leaguer, the great impasse of Nurnberg, came to an end, and it is not very hard to add up the balance and see where the ultimate victory lay in this first passage between the Czech and Swede.

XVI.—

THE SACRIFICE OF LUTZEN

After Nurnberg—Gustavus returns to the Danube—The Famous March for Saxony—Gustavus Starts to Surprise Wallenstein —The Early Hours of the Great Battle—The Death of the Lion of the North—The End of the Battle of Lutzen—After Lutzen.

After Nurnberg

AS soon as the Swedish troops got clear away to the villages and towns in the vicinity of Windsheim, the ill effects of their seclusion in the Nurnberg enclaves passed away, and their imperturbable leader began to cast about for his new plans. As soon as Wallenstein had left Nurnberg, Gustavus returned to confer with Oxenstiern and to survey the Imperial camp. There were several divergent sets of plans to consider. The Saxon troops, with whom were the Brandenburg and Pomeranian contingents, relieved of the threat of the main Imperial army, had made considerable headway against the Imperial contingents in Lusatia and Silesia, and it was noticed that they had acquired something of the Swedish dash and resolution. More than once had they stood to storming or stormed themselves, in a manner after Gustavus’ heart, and despite the doubtful factor of the aims of the Elector and Count Arnheim, more confidence was felt in their power to bear their share.

On August 18th Arnheim had stormed Great Glogau on the Oder in Silesia, and put the garrison to the sword; he had driven Don Balthasar Maradass from Breslau across the Oder, whereon the Saxons had thrown a bridge in his face after the manner of the Swedes, stormed the Imperialists’ position, taken heavy toll of their rearguards, and eventually driven them almost to the frontier of Hungary. Further, the Saxon corps which John George had sent to join the King had quitted themselves well, so that Gustavus, whatever his own schemes, felt himself bound to support the Saxons as closely as circumstances might demand, and also, incidentally, discount thereby any of the tales that floated about of the real intentions of John George, if, as Gustavus took leave to doubt, there was much in them.

Oxenstiern was, as always, all for moving on Vienna and supporting the rebellion of the Austrian peasantry now in progress. The Saxons could now take care of themselves, and Wallenstein would be compelled to come to Austria. Gustavus was not so certain, and for the present, as the Imperial troops were not likely to undertake any great efforts till they had recovered and refitted, he would go back to Swabia and Bavaria, where, during the long impasse at Nurnberg, his friends had suffered duress at the hands of parties of Imperial and Bavarian troops.

News from the countries to which Wallenstein had marched was some time in coming through, though it was known that Hoik, whose ravagings in Voightland have been referred to, was continuing them in the direction of the open country which stretched to Leipsic and Dresden, reinforced by 10,000 Imperialists under Count Glass, and wherever they went the most ruthless treatment was meted out.

Pending better information, and to keep his troops fit in easy work, in well-found country, Gustavus now sent some of his troops back to their former areas, and himself marched for Donauworth, and recaptured Rain, which the Bavarians had recovered. But to Vienna he would not go till he understood the position in Saxony, and after clearing Swabia, somewhat incontinently but in satisfaction of his penchant for cleaning up everything behind him, again sent troops to the comer by Lake Constance. Gentle marching and good food, however, were what his men needed, and such operations gave them these conditions.

Wallenstein and Maximilian at Forscheim advanced to Bamberg leisurely enough on September 24th, round which centre they quartered their troops and levied contributions on all and sundry. Duke Bernard, who was watching them, kept them out of Schweinfurt, and held the passes of the Thuringerwald that led to Erfurt. The Imperialists while recouping in the Bayruth territories vented their spleen on all sides. Wallenstein, appearing before Culmbach, on the right bank of the Maine, which contained the crossing on the road from Bamberg to Hof, threatened that he would not even leave a child in the mother’s womb if he was not admitted. Happily a stout Swedish garrison prevented the carrying out of what was by no means a figurative threat. Then he appeared before Coburg, and captured the town, though the good Colonel Dubatel held out in the citadel. Wallenstein had now said good-bye to Maximilian, who led his remnant back to Ratisbon, and the former now moved definitely towards Saxony, Hoik actually appearing before Leipsic on October 21st, and eventually compelled the surrender of the town on not too severe terms.

When the news reached Gustavus, he was much tom between two conflicting plans—the prosecution of an advance on Vienna, and the need for proceeding to the assistance of John George. Both Oxenstiern and the King apparently believed that at the worst the Saxons could hold their own, and that an advance to Vienna would recall Wallenstein to the Danube, but the King conceived that his duty and his undertakings to the Elector called him to Saxony. To Saxony therefore he marched through Franconia once more, summoning to his aid the detached forces which he had released from Windsheim. Fortunately the operations on the Weser and Lower Elbe still prospered, and the Swedish bastion of the rivers kept war away from the country between the Elbe and the Oder. Hom and the Rhinegrave on the Rhine and in Alsace continued to wipe up the remaining Imperialists, and though the activity of Pappenheim had always kept Todt busy, the balance of success had remained with the Swedes all the summer, and now Pappenheim had been recalled to the main army by Wallenstein, after a somewhat wild-cat adventure into Maestricht.

Thus the outlying forces were still free to come together again.

The Great March for Saxony

The news of the Imperialists’ approach to sacred Leipsic stirred the King greatly, and he decided that he would march to save Saxony, so serious had the news from there become. Further, if he went at all, he felt that he must go with the utmost speed, and with all the force he could muster. To secure the Danube he left the Pfalzgraf Christian, in command of four brigades of infantry and 3000 horse, in addition to the garrisons of Donauworth, Rain, Augsburg and other commanding points, and moved north forthwith by Nordlingen and Rothenburg, turning aside himself to confer with Oxenstiern, who was to remain in South Germany, with headquarters at Ulm, and weld together all Protestant interests. The route was to be on Erfurt via Kitzingen on the Maine, and then up the left bank to Schweinfurth, where he would cross. His outlying detachments were directed to Erfurt, to come at all hazards, viz., Bauditzen and Duke William of Saxe Weimar, and if possible Kniphausen, who was covering Nurnberg. Of all the marches that Gustavus had made in his many campaigns, this swift assembly at Erfurt was one of the greatest and fastest yet made. After leaving Schweinfurth, the Swedish troops threaded once again the gloomy defiles of the Duringerwald, whence they had descended to the Maine after Leipsic, and by October 24th had joined forces with Duke William at Erfurt, where the King found that he could already count on 20,000 well-disciplined and veteran troops.

At Schweinfurth Gustavus found his Queen awaiting him once more, and amid the great press of military and political business found some time to spend with her. She accompanied him to Erfurt, where she was to remain. Gustavus had long been in a foreboding mood, knowing perhaps that his passion for the fray could not hold him unharmed for ever. At Nurnberg he had given Oxenstiern precise instructions for the minority of Christina, and now at Schweinfurth the future, while holding no fears, seemed impersonal enough. Nor for the moment were his political prospects too bright. The waste of time and men at Nurnberg had lowered his prestige in the eyes of the world. France was not warm on his side, despite all that Swedish generals were doing for France in Alsace. England was more than ever unsatisfactory, while Denmark was still Denmark. Gustavus, though now fully determined that Frederick should be restored to his Palatinate, had not yet been able to arrange it, and earn the gratitude of England. The sight of his veteran troops at Erfurt, fully restored and in great heart, was a cheering sight, however, and the King now hoped that he could meet Wallenstein face to face in the open plains of Lutzen or Leipsic.

But saying farewell to the magistrates of the town he could not withhold a note of foreboding. “I need not remind all present of the well-known mutability of earthly affairs, and that the issue of war is of all uncertainties the greatest. The expedition I am entering on may probably prove fatal to myself. ... I beseech you to continue firm in your attachment to my dear consort, and in this hope I pray that the blessing and protection of the Most High may continue to accompany you all.” He then turned towards the Queen, but the violence of his emotions prevented him saying more than “ God bless you ” when, mounting his horse, he galloped off to overtake the army which had already started on the road to Naumburg. And the similar scene of his farewell at Stockholm, when the little Christina had plucked his sleeve lest her little speech be unnoticed, was in many men’s minds.

On the flank of the Swedes was marching Pappenheim, coming up from the Weser to join his master, and Gustavus directing Duke William to head him off from Erfurt and Weimar, then pushed on via Armstadt and Kosen, through the forbidding defiles of the Saale, to Naumburg, which was reached on October 30th. Here among his troops, entirely recovered from Nurnberg and marching jauntily in the crisp autumn air, the King was fully himself, eager, alert and enterprising. Naumburg lay at the foot of the defile through the gorges of the Saale, looking forth north-east to the plains of Lutzen and Leipsic. On the edge of the plains where he hoped to give battle Gustavus now proposed to entrench himself, wait for the Saxons and then force Wallenstein to a battle.

Wallenstein had passed through Leipsic, and was at Eulenburg when the news reached him of the start of Gustavus from Erfurt towards Naumburg, and he at once set forth post haste to secure the defiles of the Saale, which practically would have closed all movements into Saxony. Moving by Merseburg to Weissenfels on the Saale, some ten miles east of Naumburg, he learnt that he was too late, and that the astounding forced marching of the Swedes had forestalled him. Then there came on him a period of indecision. Summoning a council of war, at which Pappenheim and Hoik as well as his other commanders were present, and hearing of Gustavus entrenching at Naumburg, it was agreed that the King was waiting reinforcements from Luneburg, and was even laying up for the winter. Pappenheim was ordered to move to Lower Saxony to oppose Bauditzen, stopping en route to capture Halle, while the remainder of the Imperialists should prepare likewise for winter quarters. It cannot be said that the conclusions of the council were marked by a great appreciation of the character of their adversary, and Wallenstein had not long to wait to be undeceived.

At Naumburg, now relieved from the haunting fear of the Imperialists, Gustavus was received with the wildest enthusiasm and adulation, which, as usual, he much deprecated. On an earlier occasion when children had gathered round his quarters calling out “ Great Gustavus ” he had descended into the street to talk to them : " My dear children, you see before you nothing but a great sinner from Sweden, whom your silly parents have taught you to call the Great King.” So as the inhabitants of Naumburg flocked to his stirrups to touch them and his scabbard, and to kiss the hem of his cloak, the King was much concerned, saying to his chaplain, “Too much reliance is placed upon me, and all but divine honours are bestowed upon a feeble mortal, who exists today and may be gone tomorrow. Great God I Thou art witness that I take no delight in this kind of homage, which is rendered to me and is due to Thee alone, by whose assistance I am what I am. I abandon myself to Thy Providence. Thou, the Lord of all things, will not permit that the good work commenced for the deliverance of Thy true servants should remain imperfect.”

Gustavus Marches to Surprise Wallenstein

No sooner had the news reached Gustavus that Pappenheim with 12,000 men had marched for Halle, than he conceived that the time had come to strike. Halle would then be relieved, and even if he could not surprise Wallenstein he would take him at a disadvantage before Pappenheim could rejoin. The ardour and initiative of the King had but increased as he swept up from Erfurt, and all the gloom that had at one time been heavy passed away. A decision at last seemed attainable. He had marched too fast for all save his lightest artillery to be with him, but his troops were at their best. The weather was ideal for marching and fighting, save for the tactical difficulties of the morning fogs.

Wallenstein, on the contrary, does not seem to have been at his best. The fierce attempt to storm the Alte Vesta had left a lively remembrance of Gustavian verve and methods, and he showed no sign of realising the advantageous position in which he found himself, concentrated and stronger than the three forces of his enemies, separated, but each within his reach—viz. the Royal Army, the main Saxon force under Arnheim, and the Lunenbergers slowly coming up from the Elbe.

The Royal Army was ready to march at any moment, and Gustavus lost no time. He decided to break up from Naumburg, and two hours before midnight, November 4th, the leading Swedes swung out into the open plains, heading for Weissenfels, also on the Saale, where Colonel Colloredo with several squadrons of Croats had been placed by Wallenstein to keep watch on the King.

Colloredo was a good soldier, and early next morning, looking out from his watch-tower, before the fog was more than a thin emanation lying low on the streams, saw long columns moving across the plains. Recognising that Gustavus was advancing in force, he fired the three cannon to recall all Imperial detachments and foragers, and sent a series of mounted messengers full speed to Wallenstein at Merseburg. He then collected his squadrons and withdrew leisurely as the Swedish horse approached his post. To Wallenstein the news arrived when the day was yet young. Realising that he must fight at once, he ordered his troops to march out to the plains of Lutzen, on which he had already invisaged a battle. To Pappenheim, now besieging the Moritzburg at Halle, he sent imperative orders to rejoin forthwith, as he was about to fight a general engagement.

There are certain localities in the world designed, or rather designated by their physical location and characteristics, to be the meeting-grounds of rival armies. There the come and go of roads, the crossings of rivers, the converging of mountains, compel defenders to make a stand, invaders to force their way. Such places are Megiddo in the Plain of Jezreel, where all invaders from Syria to Egypt and the Way of the Philistines must pass, and the open plains of Panipat, where the Aravallis and available water shepherd to the Jumna the armies who would fight for Delhi. Those who would master England can only do so on a few sites east and west of the Pennines, by Humber or Mersey fords, and at the crossings of the Thames. So it was by Leipsic and Lutzen, where Gustavus and grim old Frederick and the mighty Napoleon himself must needs attack or stand and fight.

A few miles east of Kosen the roads from Erfurt and Weimar met, to enter ten miles of the defile of the Saale through the mountains. Naumburg stood at the opening of the gorge, and thence the well-watered plains rolled away to Lutzen and Leipsic. From Naumburg, keeping the Saale on the left, the road from Naumburg to Leipsic ran ten miles to Weisenfels, five more to Rippach through the village and over the stream of that name, and thence five miles more to Lutzen. From Lutzen to Leipsic of glorious memory was another fifteen miles, while to Lutzen came high roads from north, south, east and west. •

By noon on the 5th Wallenstein had most of his available forces save Pappenheim ready concentrated, while Isolanis Croats were on the Rippach, but, as they had no instructions to fight there, they fell back before the dragoons of Gustavus.

Wallenstein, seeing that Gustavus was marching intent on battle, decided to fight on the level plain northeast of Lutzen, his front facing the Weissenfels-Leipsic road, in the ditches of which he placed his advanced musketeers, his right on Lutzen, strengthened by a small eminence that lay north of the village. His left was covered by the Floesgraben, a canalised stream in use for floating logs.

As his strategic line of retreat was on Leipsic, if he wished to maintain his position to prevent a junction with the Saxons, his assumption of a front along the line of this very road has always been a matter of surprise, but its immediate tactical feature as presented by the ditches must have appealed to him in his haste to show a front to the press with which the Swedes were advancing. Early in the afternoon his troops were in position, expecting a battle on the morrow.

Distances on the flat plain, and the dearness with which the spire of Lutzen church stood up against the skyline, deceived Gustavus into believing that he could reach his foe that night, before he had settled down on his chosen field of battle. This mistake, the early sunset, a growing mist and the fatigue which the light friable soil caused his infantry, made the onset impossible, however, that afternoon, and Gustavus was obliged to order his troops to bivouac within a short distance of the enemy. Nevertheless so near had the Swedes pushed to him that Wallenstein was fain to beat to arms, in the belief that the attack was coming at dusk.

From a captured Austrian officer Gustavus obtained the information—false, as a matter of fact—that Pappenheim’s detachment had rejoined. This added to the gravity of the situation, and Gustavus, sitting in his carriage, combated bravely the doubts that obsessed his commanders, and implied that even with Pappenheim against him he was confident of victory.

His troops had already formed up in order of battle, and merely slept in the positions from which they would fight, less than a mile from .the Imperialist line. Most of Gustavus’ marshals were away on other fronts, and he had not at his disposal the proved wisdom of Hom, Baner or Todt. The centre was composed of half-brigades of infantry, commanded by Nicholas Brahe, Count of Weissemburg, at the head of the famous Yellow Brigade. The left and right consisted of columns of horse interspersed, as at Leipsic, with groups of “commanded” musketeers. Duke Bernard commanded the left, and the right was to be led, as usual, by the King, with Stalhanske and his Finns as second. The second line in the centre was under stout, old Kliphausen, and a further reserve of horse under Colonel Ohm was in rear of the latter.

Thus arrayed, the men with their arms by their sides, the higher officers in anxious thought, the two armies waited what all felt was to be a day of decision. The actual forces that were to meet in the morning are a matter of some doubt, but Wallenstein must have had close on 30,000 men without Pappenheim, and Gustavus barely 20,000.

The Early Hours of the Struggle

Gustavus passed the night in his travelling-coach with Duke Bernard and Kliphausen, and two hours before daybreak his attendants came to array him. He would brook no armour, for his early wounds still irked him, and merely wore a sword-proof shirt of elkhide under his coat. An hour before dawn the drums beat the reveille, and the Swedes, standing to arms, listened to solemn prayer, singing Luther’s version of the 47th Psalm, Eine Feste Burg, in simple point, and then a hymn of the King’s own composing.

Over the way on the ditches of the Leipsic road the same pitiful appeal to the Almighty and the God of soldiers went up. The Bishop of Fulda hastened from rank to rank, crucifix in hand, exhorting the troops to acquit themselves manfully in defence of the Holy Catholic Church and the honour of the Imperial House, for thus does striving human nature in its pain appeal to the Son of God.

It was the Swedes who were to commence the battle, but the white autumn mist had for a while enveloped everything beyond two pikes length, and Gustavus was fain to wait. At last the mist rolled by as the sun gained strength, and the light artillery of Gustavus opened an hour’s bombardment, and then the Swedes rushed forward with great impetuosity. Over the Leipsic road and across the ditches, in among the Imperial cannon, rushed the Swedish infantry of the centre, without paying the least attention to the crashing discharges of musketry which swept through them as each rank of musketeers fired and countermarched and the next men took their place. None there were who could stem them, and the King, seeing their success, rode off to the right to take command thereof, and lead that charge of horse with which, according to his wont, he hoped to end the day. Such tactical and strategical aim as was in his mind lay in cutting Wallenstein off from Leipsic, and success on the right would assuredly achieve this object.

The first advance of the Swedish right was successful enough, and hordes of Croat cavalry were driven from the field. But the success of the Swedish centre, which Gustavus had seen in person, was short-lived. After seizing the battery in the centre of the Imperial line, the infantry battalions had brought up their right shoulders, the better to attack the Imperial right wing and the batteries about the windmill, and this exposed their own right. Wallenstein, observing it, ordered a counterattack and charge of serried masses of cuirassiers against their flank, which, unknown to Gustavus, drove back the whole Swedish centre, fighting desperately, across the ditches and the Leipsic road again, and recaptured the lost cannon.

Then came the hour which was to change the face of history.

The Death of the Lion of the North

What followed on the right has always been a matter of controversy, and there have been writers who have not hesitated to ascribe the death of the King to treachery, but the account on which most reliance is placed—that written down as soon as possible by the chaplain to the Duke of Saxe-Weimar—tells the story thus, and a pitiful ending it is for one whose career had been so glorious and on whom so much depended.

After the earlier successes of the morning and the penetration on the Imperial left by the Swedish cavalry, Gustavus, seated on his horse by the side of Stalhanske, whose Finland cavalry had reformed after their charge, surveying the field through his glasses, noticed two corps in blade armour—part of the cavalry of Colonel Piccolomini, a famous leader, surrounded by a horde of the Croat light horsemen, whom the royal troops had already bested. Turning to Stalhanske at the head of the Finland and Smaland cuirassiers, Gustavus said, “We must charge yonder black troopers, or they will do us some serious mischief.” It was spoken in the true cavalry spirit, and without more ado, Gustavus, born cavalry soldier that he was, leapt his powerful charger at a ditch in front of him, and headed straight for the cuirassiers, followed by a few of his personal attendants, never doubting that the Finlanders were following. But it is one thing to get two or three officers’ chargers over a ditch, and another to get cavalry from the halt with horses tired from previous exertions to do the same, and the cuirassiers did not immediately follow. Gustavus, “seeing red,” followed only by his cousin Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg, and a few of his staff, rode straight at the enemy. An Imperial officer, seeing this important horseman coming forward, ordered a musketeer to shoot at him, and a moment later the King’s elbow was shattered by a musket ball. Overcome with pain, the King called to his cousin to lead him back, turning his horse towards his own cavalry. At this moment the mist still hanging about the field came down again, and the wounded King and his party, searching for their own people, lost themselves and fell among Piccolomini’s horsemen. One among them, an officer in bright armour, believed to be Falkenburg, Colonel of the regiment of Florence, killed a little later, recognised the King and, shouting, shot him through the body, when his horse, stumbling, threw him amid a group of dead and wounded, mostly of his own household. Lying thus for some time, some irregulars, coming to despoil the slain, finding him alive, asked his name and quality. “I am the King of Sweden”, murmured he, whereon a soldier shot him through the head and another ran him through the body. He is said to have uttered the words “My God ! My God !” and “Alas my poor Queen! ”

His body was stripped by the Imperialists, and the spoils were sold at high prices to Austrian officers. Piccolomini, to whom the news had been sent, now came up, before the King, though insensible, had actually expired, but a charge of Stalhanske’s men recovered the body. That was the end of it. The King, now no more, was placed on an ammunition waggon and drawn in grief and anguish, his white standard in front, to Weissenfels. The sad news of the loss was already known to the army by the wild galloping of his charger, caparisoned and covered with blood, among them.

And thus perished, in what was really the hour of supreme victory, Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, in the thirty-eighth year of his age, the greatest soldier, and that in a good cause, that the modem world had yet seen.

The End of the Battle

The sight of the horse and empty saddle of Gustavus by no means wrought despair among his troops, but rather spurred the survivors to renewed and desperate action. Duke Bernard of Saxe-Weimar assumed command, and ordered once more a general advance of the whole line, the Yellow Brigade perishing almost to a man in their insistence on victory. The ditches on the Leipsic road were again crossed and the Imperial cannon recaptured. About noon Pappenheim rode up in time to stem, with eight regiments of horse, the flight to which the Imperial army was being put. Charging once again the Swedish left, he drove them furiously back, enabling Piccolomini’s cuirassiers to reform, and then galloped to his own left to search for Gustavus, only to hear of the fate of his great antagonist. Scarcely had he expressed his satisfaction at the news, when he too received a mortal wound, his shoulder being smashed by a ball from a falconet, and he died in the castle of Pleissenburg twenty-four hours later. And now; the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, worthy successor to the great King, recovering from the Pappenheim onslaught, brought on once again, for the third time, the Swedish line at point of pike. Again was the scene of carnage in the ditches repeated, and it was evident that the Imperialist had shot their bolt. No force that was still intact could resist the onslaught of the grief-stricken Swedes, and body after body of the heavy Imperial infantry collapsed before the repeated charges of horse and foot. In vain Wallenstein, his hated adversary dead and success apparently in his grasp, exposed himself recklessly in an attempt to rally the last of his army. His troops were broken beyond repair, and all heart had been beaten out of them. Eight of Pappenheim’s infantry corps came up too late to do more than follow on in the route for Leipsic. Piccolomini, though struck by ten balls and wounded in several places, alone with the last of his black cuirassiers, was able to show some front by way of rear-guard, as the Imperialists, in one wail of defeat, tailed away into the dusk of the short November day, and all the while—the pity of it— the great Gustavus lay dead as any private soldier on an ammunition waggon. Sic transit gloria mundi.

To Weissenfels came the stricken Queen to take her soldier home, and the story of the slow return, the many lyings-in-state in the towns of Germany, the great silent cortege to stricken Sweden, is the story of one of the world’s great griefs and loss—to Sweden for ever sacred, a memory and an example, amid the wailing fife and muffled drums of the Adeste Fideles.

After Lutzen

The Battle of Lutzen was perhaps the most crushing defeat that the Imperialist forces had yet experienced at the hands of the Swedes. The new model army of Wallenstein, 40,000 strong, was absolutely broken, but a few battalions remaining intact. Pappenheim “the soldier” was dead, 12,000 men were killed, wounded or captured, and all the artillery taken on to the field. Saxony was saved, though the Elector did not deserve it, and the whole of Protestant Christendom was freed from a great incubus. The command now fell to Oxenstiern, but Oxenstiern was not Gustavus, and after holding on in a declining measure of efficiency for two years, the Swedes were finally defeated at Nordlingen in 1634, and what was known as “the Swedish period” of the Thirty Years War came to an end. The actual war of Religion was to drag on till fourteen years after Lutzen, becoming, however, more and more a struggle between France and the tools of France against the House of Hapsburg, during which the Swedes in 1642 were, once again to defeat the Imperialists at Leipsic. It was not till 1648 that the Thirty Years War was actually brought to an end in the Peace of Westphalia, when the Protestant rights and safeties were secured to them. But the organisation introduced by Gustavus and the stimulation that he had given to the otherwise cowed Protestant States were to have results for all time. Never again were the States to find themselves in that state of mental and physical exhaustion into which they had been brought through the inefficiency of Christian of Denmark and the ruthless conduct of war by Tilly and Wallenstein. As for the Great King, the story of his wars is the story of his greatness, the born leader Of horse, the “Dragoon King ” par excellence, the first organiser of war since the Romans, the Prince of Quartermaster-Generals, a statesman who could speak on terms with all the chancelleries of Europe, and above all a man of simply life and genuine, unassuming piety. Of all the men of action who have passed across the stages of history there are few to whom the words of the Prophet Malachi can more suitably be applied than to Gustavus Adolphus, “the Lion of the North and the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith ” :—

“And they shall be mine, said the Lord of Hosts, on that day when I make up my jewels.”

THE DIVINE HISTORY OF JESUS CHRIST

BIOGRAPHYCAL UNIVERSAL LIBRARY

THE CREATION IF THE UNIVERSE ACCORDING GENESIS

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS:

1594-1632

THE NORTHERN HURRICANE

BY

LT.-GEN. SIR GEORGE MACMUNN