No More Learning

Such a man was found in the
Chancellor Oxenstiern, the first minister, and what is more, the friend
of the deceased king, who, acquainted with all the secrets of his
master, versed in the politics of Germany, and in the relations of all
the states of Europe, was unquestionably the fittest instrument to carry
out the plans of Gustavus Adolphus in their full extent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The garrison consisted of not more than fifteen companies, mostly
newly-raised soldiers; although that number was more than sufficient to
weary out an enemy of far superior force, if supported by well-disposed
and warlike inhabitants. But this was not the greatest danger which the
Bavarian garrison had to contend against. The Protestant inhabitants of
Ratisbon, equally jealous of their civil and religious freedom, had
unwillingly submitted to the yoke of Bavaria, and had long looked with
impatience for the appearance of a deliverer. Bernard’s arrival before
the walls filled them with lively joy; and there was much reason to fear
that they would support the attempts of the besiegers without, by
exciting a tumult within. In this perplexity, the Elector addressed the
most pressing entreaties to the Emperor and the Duke of Friedland to
assist him, were it only with 5,000 men. Seven messengers in succession
were despatched by Ferdinand to Wallenstein, who promised immediate
succours, and even announced to the Elector the near advance of 12,000
men under Gallas; but at the same time forbade that general, under pain
of death, to march. Meanwhile the Bavarian commandant of Ratisbon, in
the hope of speedy assistance, made the best preparations for defence,
armed the Roman Catholic peasants, disarmed and carefully watched the
Protestant citizens, lest they should attempt any hostile design against
the garrison. But as no relief arrived, and the enemy’s artillery
incessantly battered the walls, he consulted his own safety, and that of
the garrison, by an honourable capitulation, and abandoned the Bavarian
officials and ecclesiastics to the conqueror’s mercy.

The possession of Ratisbon, enlarged the projects of the duke, and
Bavaria itself now appeared too narrow a field for his bold designs. He
determined to penetrate to the frontiers of Austria, to arm the
Protestant peasantry against the Emperor, and restore to them their
religious liberty. He had already taken Straubingen, while another
Swedish army was advancing successfully along the northern bank of the
Danube. At the head of his Swedes, bidding defiance to the severity of
the weather, he reached the mouth of the Iser, which he passed in the
presence of the Bavarian General Werth, who was encamped on that river.
Passau and Lintz trembled for their fate; the terrified Emperor
redoubled his entreaties and commands to Wallenstein, to hasten with all
speed to the relief of the hard-pressed Bavarians. But here the
victorious Bernard, of his own accord, checked his career of conquest.
Having in front of him the river Inn, guarded by a number of strong
fortresses, and behind him two hostile armies, a disaffected country,
and the river Iser, while his rear was covered by no tenable position,
and no entrenchment could be made in the frozen ground, and threatened
by the whole force of Wallenstein, who had at last resolved to march to
the Danube, by a timely retreat he escaped the danger of being cut off
from Ratisbon, and surrounded by the enemy. He hastened across the Iser
to the Danube, to defend the conquests he had made in the Upper
Palatinate against Wallenstein, and fully resolved not to decline a
battle, if necessary, with that general. But Wallenstein, who was not
disposed for any great exploits on the Danube, did not wait for his
approach; and before the Bavarians could congratulate themselves on his
arrival, he suddenly withdrew again into Bohemia. The duke thus ended
his victorious campaign, and allowed his troops their well-earned repose
in winter quarters upon an enemy’s country.

While in Swabia the war was thus successfully conducted by Gustavus
Horn, and on the Upper and Lower Rhine by the Palatine of Birkenfeld,
General Baudissen, and the Rhinegrave Otto Louis, and by Duke Bernard on
the Danube; the reputation of the Swedish arms was as gloriously
sustained in Lower Saxony and Westphalia by the Duke of Lunenburg and
the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel. The fortress of Hamel was taken by Duke
George, after a brave defence, and a brilliant victory obtained over the
imperial General Gronsfeld, by the united Swedish and Hessian armies,
near Oldendorf. Count Wasaburg, a natural son of Gustavus Adolphus,
showed himself in this battle worthy of his descent. Sixteen pieces of
cannon, the whole baggage of the Imperialists, together with 74 colours,
fell into the hands of the Swedes; 3,000 of the enemy perished on the
field, and nearly the same number were taken prisoners. The town of
Osnaburg surrendered to the Swedish Colonel Knyphausen, and Paderborn to
the Landgrave of Hesse; while, on the other hand, Bueckeburg, a very
important place for the Swedes, fell into the hands of the Imperialists.
The Swedish banners were victorious in almost every quarter of Germany;
and the year after the death of Gustavus, left no trace of the loss
which had been sustained in the person of that great leader.

In a review of the important events which signalized the campaign of
1633, the inactivity of a man, of whom the highest expectations had been
formed, justly excites astonishment. Among all the generals who
distinguished themselves in this campaign, none could be compared with
Wallenstein, in experience, talents, and reputation; and yet, after the
battle of Lutzen, we lose sight of him entirely. The fall of his great
rival had left the whole theatre of glory open to him; all Europe was
now attentively awaiting those exploits, which should efface the
remembrance of his defeat, and still prove to the world his military
superiority. Nevertheless, he continued inactive in Bohemia, while the
Emperor’s losses in Bavaria, Lower Saxony, and the Rhine, pressingly
called for his presence--a conduct equally unintelligible to friend and
foe--the terror, and, at the same time, the last hope of the Emperor.
After the defeat of Lutzen he had hastened into Bohemia, where he
instituted the strictest inquiry into the conduct of his officers in
that battle. Those whom the council of war declared guilty of
misconduct, were put to death without mercy, those who had behaved with
bravery, rewarded with princely munificence, and the memory of the dead
honoured by splendid monuments. During the winter, he oppressed the
imperial provinces by enormous contributions, and exhausted the Austrian
territories by his winter quarters, which he purposely avoided taking up
in an enemy’s country. And in the spring of 1633, instead of being the
first to open the campaign, with this well-chosen and well-appointed
army, and to make a worthy display of his great abilities, he was the
last who appeared in the field; and even then, it was an hereditary
province of Austria, which he selected as the seat of war.

Of all the Austrian provinces, Silesia was most exposed to danger.
Three different armies, a Swedish under Count Thurn, a Saxon under
Arnheim and the Duke of Lauenburg, and one of Brandenburg under
Borgsdorf, had at the same time carried the war into this country; they
had already taken possession of the most important places, and even
Breslau had embraced the cause of the allies. But this crowd of
commanders and armies was the very means of saving this province to the
Emperor; for the jealousy of the generals, and the mutual hatred of the
Saxons and the Swedes, never allowed them to act with unanimity.
Arnheim and Thurn contended for the chief command; the troops of
Brandenburg and Saxony combined against the Swedes, whom they looked
upon as troublesome strangers who ought to be got rid of as soon as
possible. The Saxons, on the contrary, lived on a very intimate footing
with the Imperialists, and the officers of both these hostile armies
often visited and entertained each other. The Imperialists were allowed
to remove their property without hindrance, and many did not affect to
conceal that they had received large sums from Vienna. Among such
equivocal allies, the Swedes saw themselves sold and betrayed; and any
great enterprise was out of the question, while so bad an understanding
prevailed between the troops. General Arnheim, too, was absent the
greater part of the time; and when he at last returned, Wallenstein was
fast approaching the frontiers with a formidable force.

His army amounted to 40,000 men, while to oppose him the allies had only
24,000. They nevertheless resolved to give him battle, and marched to
Munsterberg, where he had formed an intrenched camp. But Wallenstein
remained inactive for eight days; he then left his intrenchments, and
marched slowly and with composure to the enemy’s camp. But even after
quitting his position, and when the enemy, emboldened by his past delay,
manfully prepared to receive him, he declined the opportunity of
fighting. The caution with which he avoided a battle was imputed to
fear; but the well-established reputation of Wallenstein enabled him to
despise this suspicion. The vanity of the allies allowed them not to
see that he purposely saved them a defeat, because a victory at that
time would not have served his own ends. To convince them of his
superior power, and that his inactivity proceeded not from any fear of
them, he put to death the commander of a castle that fell into his
hands, because he had refused at once to surrender an untenable place.

For nine days, did the two armies remain within musket-shot of each
other, when Count Terzky, from the camp of the Imperialists, appeared
with a trumpeter in that of the allies, inviting General Arnheim to a
conference. The purport was, that Wallenstein, notwithstanding his
superiority, was willing to agree to a cessation of arms for six weeks.
“He was come,” he said, “to conclude a lasting peace with the Swedes,
and with the princes of the empire, to pay the soldiers, and to satisfy
every one. All this was in his power; and if the Austrian court
hesitated to confirm his agreement, he would unite with the allies, and
(as he privately whispered to Arnheim) hunt the Emperor to the devil. ”
At the second conference, he expressed himself still more plainly to
Count Thurn. “All the privileges of the Bohemians,” he engaged, “should
be confirmed anew, the exiles recalled and restored to their estates,
and he himself would be the first to resign his share of them. The
Jesuits, as the authors of all past grievances, should be banished, the
Swedish crown indemnified by stated payments, and all the superfluous
troops on both sides employed against the Turks. ” The last article
explained the whole mystery. “If,” he continued, “HE should obtain the
crown of Bohemia, all the exiles would have reason to applaud his
generosity; perfect toleration of religions should be established within
the kingdom, the Palatine family be reinstated in its rights, and he
would accept the Margraviate of Moravia as a compensation for
Mecklenburg. The allied armies would then, under his command, advance
upon Vienna, and sword in hand, compel the Emperor to ratify the
treaty. ”

Thus was the veil at last removed from the schemes, over which he had
brooded for years in mysterious silence. Every circumstance now
convinced him that not a moment was to be lost in its execution.
Nothing but a blind confidence in the good fortune and military genius
of the Duke of Friedland, had induced the Emperor, in the face of the
remonstrances of Bavaria and Spain, and at the expense of his own
reputation, to confer upon this imperious leader such an unlimited
command. But this belief in Wallenstein’s being invincible, had been
much weakened by his inaction, and almost entirely overthrown by the
defeat at Lutzen. His enemies at the imperial court now renewed their
intrigues; and the Emperor’s disappointment at the failure of his hopes,
procured for their remonstrances a favourable reception. Wallenstein’s
whole conduct was now reviewed with the most malicious criticism; his
ambitious haughtiness, his disobedience to the Emperor’s orders, were
recalled to the recollection of that jealous prince, as well as the
complaints of the Austrian subjects against his boundless oppression;
his fidelity was questioned, and alarming hints thrown out as to his
secret views. These insinuations, which the conduct of the duke seemed
but too well to justify, failed not to make a deep impression on
Ferdinand; but the step had been taken, and the great power with which
Wallenstein had been invested, could not be taken from him without
danger. Insensibly to diminish that power, was the only course that now
remained, and, to effect this, it must in the first place be divided;
but, above all, the Emperor’s present dependence on the good will of his
general put an end to. But even this right had been resigned in his
engagement with Wallenstein, and the Emperor’s own handwriting secured
him against every attempt to unite another general with him in the
command, or to exercise any immediate act of authority over the troops.
As this disadvantageous contract could neither be kept nor broken,
recourse was had to artifice. Wallenstein was Imperial Generalissimo in
Germany, but his command extended no further, and he could not presume
to exercise any authority over a foreign army. A Spanish army was
accordingly raised in Milan, and marched into Germany under a Spanish
general. Wallenstein now ceased to be indispensable because he was no
longer supreme, and in case of necessity, the Emperor was now provided
with the means of support even against him.

The duke quickly and deeply felt whence this blow came, and whither it
was aimed. In vain did he protest against this violation of the
compact, to the Cardinal Infante; the Italian army continued its march,
and he was forced to detach General Altringer to join it with a
reinforcement. He took care, indeed, so closely to fetter the latter,
as to prevent the Italian army from acquiring any great reputation in
Alsace and Swabia; but this bold step of the court awakened him from his
security, and warned him of the approach of danger. That he might not a
second time be deprived of his command, and lose the fruit of all his
labours, he must accelerate the accomplishment of his long meditated
designs. He secured the attachment of his troops by removing the
doubtful officers, and by his liberality to the rest. He had sacrificed
to the welfare of the army every other order in the state, every
consideration of justice and humanity, and therefore he reckoned upon
their gratitude. At the very moment when he meditated an unparalleled
act of ingratitude against the author of his own good fortune, he
founded all his hopes upon the gratitude which was due to himself.

The leaders of the Silesian armies had no authority from their
principals to consent, on their own discretion, to such important
proposals as those of Wallenstein, and they did not even feel themselves
warranted in granting, for more than a fortnight, the cessation of
hostilities which he demanded. Before the duke disclosed his designs to
Sweden and Saxony, he had deemed it advisable to secure the sanction of
France to his bold undertaking. For this purpose, a secret negociation
had been carried on with the greatest possible caution and distrust, by
Count Kinsky with Feuquieres, the French ambassador at Dresden, and had
terminated according to his wishes. Feuquieres received orders from his
court to promise every assistance on the part of France, and to offer
the duke a considerable pecuniary aid in case of need.

But it was this excessive caution to secure himself on all sides, that
led to his ruin. The French ambassador with astonishment discovered
that a plan, which, more than any other, required secrecy, had been
communicated to the Swedes and the Saxons. And yet it was generally
known that the Saxon ministry was in the interests of the Emperor, and
on the other hand, the conditions offered to the Swedes fell too far
short of their expectations to be likely to be accepted. Feuquieres,
therefore, could not believe that the duke could be serious in
calculating upon the aid of the latter, and the silence of the former.
He communicated accordingly his doubts and anxieties to the Swedish
chancellor, who equally distrusted the views of Wallenstein, and
disliked his plans. Although it was no secret to Oxenstiern, that the
duke had formerly entered into a similar negociation with Gustavus
Adolphus, he could not credit the possibility of inducing a whole army
to revolt, and of his extravagant promises. So daring a design, and
such imprudent conduct, seemed not to be consistent with the duke’s
reserved and suspicious temper, and he was the more inclined to consider
the whole as the result of dissimulation and treachery, because he had
less reason to doubt his prudence than his honesty.

Oxenstiern’s doubts at last affected Arnheim himself, who, in full
confidence in Wallenstein’s sincerity, had repaired to the chancellor at
Gelnhausen, to persuade him to lend some of his best regiments to the
duke, to aid him in the execution of the plan. They began to suspect
that the whole proposal was only a snare to disarm the allies, and to
betray the flower of their troops into the hands of the Emperor.
Wallenstein’s well-known character did not contradict the suspicion, and
the inconsistencies in which he afterwards involved himself, entirely
destroyed all confidence in his sincerity. While he was endeavouring to
draw the Swedes into this alliance, and requiring the help of their best
troops, he declared to Arnheim that they must begin with expelling the
Swedes from the empire; and while the Saxon officers, relying upon the
security of the truce, repaired in great numbers to his camp, he made an
unsuccessful attempt to seize them. He was the first to break the
truce, which some months afterwards he renewed, though not without great
difficulty. All confidence in his sincerity was lost; his whole conduct
was regarded as a tissue of deceit and low cunning, devised to weaken
the allies and repair his own strength. This indeed he actually did
effect, as his own army daily augmented, while that of the allies was
reduced nearly one half by desertion and bad provisions. But he did not
make that use of his superiority which Vienna expected. When all men
were looking for a decisive blow to be struck, he suddenly renewed the
negociations; and when the truce lulled the allies into security, he as
suddenly recommenced hostilities. All these contradictions arose out of
the double and irreconcileable designs to ruin at once the Emperor and
the Swedes, and to conclude a separate peace with the Saxons.

Impatient at the ill success of his negociations, he at last determined
to display his strength; the more so, as the pressing distress within
the empire, and the growing dissatisfaction of the Imperial court,
admitted not of his making any longer delay. Before the last cessation
of hostilities, General Holk, from Bohemia, had attacked the circle of
Meissen, laid waste every thing on his route with fire and sword, driven
the Elector into his fortresses, and taken the town of Leipzig. But the
truce in Silesia put a period to his ravages, and the consequences of
his excesses brought him to the grave at Adorf. As soon as hostilities
were recommenced, Wallenstein made a movement, as if he designed to
penetrate through Lusatia into Saxony, and circulated the report that
Piccolomini had already invaded that country. Arnheim immediately broke
up his camp in Silesia, to follow him, and hastened to the assistance of
the Electorate. By this means the Swedes were left exposed, who were
encamped in small force under Count Thurn, at Steinau, on the Oder, and
this was exactly what Wallenstein desired. He allowed the Saxon general
to advance sixteen miles towards Meissen, and then suddenly turning
towards the Oder, surprised the Swedish army in the most complete
security. Their cavalry were first beaten by General Schafgotsch, who
was sent against them, and the infantry completely surrounded at Steinau
by the duke’s army which followed. Wallenstein gave Count Thurn half an
hour to deliberate whether he would defend himself with 2,500 men,
against more than 20,000, or surrender at discretion. But there was no
room for deliberation. The army surrendered, and the most complete
victory was obtained without bloodshed. Colours, baggage, and artillery
all fell into the hands of the victors, the officers were taken into
custody, the privates drafted into the army of Wallenstein. And now at
last, after a banishment of fourteen years, after numberless changes of
fortune, the author of the Bohemian insurrection, and the remote origin
of this destructive war, the notorious Count Thurn, was in the power of
his enemies. With blood-thirsty impatience, the arrival of this great
criminal was looked for in Vienna, where they already anticipated the
malicious triumph of sacrificing so distinguished a victim to public
justice. But to deprive the Jesuits of this pleasure, was a still
sweeter triumph to Wallenstein, and Thurn was set at liberty.
Fortunately for him, he knew more than it was prudent to have divulged
in Vienna, and his enemies were also those of Wallenstein. A defeat
might have been forgiven in Vienna, but this disappointment of their
hopes they could not pardon. “What should I have done with this
madman? ” he writes, with a malicious sneer, to the minister who called
him to account for this unseasonable magnanimity. “Would to Heaven the
enemy had no generals but such as he. At the head of the Swedish army,
he will render us much better service than in prison. ”

The victory of Steinau was followed by the capture of Liegnitz,
Grossglogau, and even of Frankfort on the Oder. Schafgotsch, who
remained in Silesia to complete the subjugation of that province,
blockaded Brieg, and threatened Breslau, though in vain, as that free
town was jealous of its privileges, and devoted to the Swedes. Colonels
Illo and Goetz were ordered by Wallenstein to the Warta, to push
forwards into Pomerania, and to the coasts of the Baltic, and actually
obtained possession of Landsberg, the key of Pomerania. While thus the
Elector of Brandenburg and the Duke of Pomerania were made to tremble
for their dominions, Wallenstein himself, with the remainder of his
army, burst suddenly into Lusatia, where he took Goerlitz by storm, and
forced Bautzen to surrender. But his object was merely to alarm the
Elector of Saxony, not to follow up the advantages already obtained; and
therefore, even with the sword in his hand, he continued his
negociations for peace with Brandenburg and Saxony, but with no better
success than before, as the inconsistencies of his conduct had destroyed
all confidence in his sincerity. He was therefore on the point of
turning his whole force in earnest against the unfortunate Saxons, and
effecting his object by force of arms, when circumstances compelled him
to leave these territories. The conquests of Duke Bernard upon the
Danube, which threatened Austria itself with immediate danger, urgently
demanded his presence in Bavaria; and the expulsion of the Saxons and
Swedes from Silesia, deprived him of every pretext for longer resisting
the Imperial orders, and leaving the Elector of Bavaria without
assistance. With his main body, therefore, he immediately set out for
the Upper Palatinate, and his retreat freed Upper Saxony for ever of
this formidable enemy.

So long as was possible, he had delayed to move to the rescue of
Bavaria, and on every pretext evaded the commands of the Emperor. He
had, indeed, after reiterated remonstrances, despatched from Bohemia a
reinforcement of some regiments to Count Altringer, who was defending
the Lech and the Danube against Horn and Bernard, but under the express
condition of his acting merely on the defensive. He referred the
Emperor and the Elector, whenever they applied to him for aid, to
Altringer, who, as he publicly gave out, had received unlimited powers;
secretly, however, he tied up his hands by the strictest injunctions,
and even threatened him with death, if he exceeded his orders. When
Duke Bernard had appeared before Ratisbon, and the Emperor as well as
the Elector repeated still more urgently their demand for succour, he
pretended he was about to despatch General Gallas with a considerable
army to the Danube; but this movement also was delayed, and Ratisbon,
Straubing, and Cham, as well as the bishopric of Eichstaedt, fell into
the hands of the Swedes. When at last he could no longer neglect the
orders of the Court, he marched slowly toward the Bavarian frontier,
where he invested the town of Cham, which had been taken by the Swedes.
But no sooner did he learn that on the Swedish side a diversion was
contemplated, by an inroad of the Saxons into Bohemia, than he availed
himself of the report, as a pretext for immediately retreating into that
kingdom. Every consideration, he urged, must be postponed to the
defence and preservation of the hereditary dominions of the Emperor; and
on this plea, he remained firmly fixed in Bohemia, which he guarded as
if it had been his own property. And when the Emperor laid upon him his
commands to move towards the Danube, and prevent the Duke of Weimar from
establishing himself in so dangerous a position on the frontiers of
Austria, Wallenstein thought proper to conclude the campaign a second
time, and quartered his troops for the winter in this exhausted kingdom.

Such continued insolence and unexampled contempt of the Imperial orders,
as well as obvious neglect of the common cause, joined to his equivocal
behaviour towards the enemy, tended at last to convince the Emperor of
the truth of those unfavourable reports with regard to the Duke, which
were current through Germany. The latter had, for a long time,
succeeded in glozing over his criminal correspondence with the enemy,
and persuading the Emperor, still prepossessed in his favour, that the
sole object of his secret conferences was to obtain peace for Germany.
But impenetrable as he himself believed his proceedings to be, in the
course of his conduct, enough transpired to justify the insinuations
with which his rivals incessantly loaded the ear of the Emperor. In
order to satisfy himself of the truth or falsehood of these rumours,
Ferdinand had already, at different times, sent spies into Wallenstein’s
camp; but as the Duke took the precaution never to commit anything to
writing, they returned with nothing but conjectures. But when, at last,
those ministers who formerly had been his champions at the court, in
consequence of their estates not being exempted by Wallenstein from the
general exactions, joined his enemies; when the Elector of Bavaria
threatened, in case of Wallenstein being any longer retained in the
supreme command, to unite with the Swedes; when the Spanish ambassador
insisted on his dismissal, and threatened, in case of refusal, to
withdraw the subsidies furnished by his Crown, the Emperor found himself
a second time compelled to deprive him of the command.

The Emperor’s authoritative and direct interference with the army, soon
convinced the Duke that the compact with himself was regarded as at an
end, and that his dismissal was inevitable. One of his inferior
generals in Austria, whom he had forbidden, under pain of death, to obey
the orders of the court, received the positive commands of the Emperor
to join the Elector of Bavaria; and Wallenstein himself was imperiously
ordered to send some regiments to reinforce the army of the Cardinal
Infante, who was on his march from Italy. All these measures convinced
him that the plan was finally arranged to disarm him by degrees, and at
once, when he was weak and defenceless, to complete his ruin.

In self-defence, must he now hasten to carry into execution the plans
which he had originally formed only with the view to aggrandizement. He
had delayed too long, either because the favourable configuration of the
stars had not yet presented itself, or, as he used to say, to check the
impatience of his friends, because THE TIME WAS NOT YET COME. The time,
even now, was not come: but the pressure of circumstances no longer
allowed him to await the favour of the stars. The first step was to
assure himself of the sentiments of his principal officers, and then to
try the attachment of the army, which he had so long confidently
reckoned on. Three of them, Colonels Kinsky, Terzky, and Illo, had long
been in his secrets, and the two first were further united to his
interests by the ties of relationship. The same wild ambition, the same
bitter hatred of the government, and the hope of enormous rewards, bound
them in the closest manner to Wallenstein, who, to increase the number
of his adherents, could stoop to the lowest means. He had once advised
Colonel Illo to solicit, in Vienna, the title of Count, and had promised
to back his application with his powerful mediation. But he secretly
wrote to the ministry, advising them to refuse his request, as to grant
it would give rise to similar demands from others, whose services and
claims were equal to his. On Illo’s return to the camp, Wallenstein
immediately demanded to know the success of his mission; and when
informed by Illo of its failure, he broke out into the bitterest
complaints against the court. “Thus,” said he, “are our faithful
services rewarded. My recommendation is disregarded, and your merit
denied so trifling a reward! Who would any longer devote his services
to so ungrateful a master? No, for my part, I am henceforth the
determined foe of Austria. ” Illo agreed with him, and a close alliance
was cemented between them.

But what was known to these three confidants of the duke, was long an
impenetrable secret to the rest; and the confidence with which
Wallenstein spoke of the devotion of his officers, was founded merely on
the favours he had lavished on them, and on their known dissatisfaction
with the Court. But this vague presumption must be converted into
certainty, before he could venture to lay aside the mask, or take any
open step against the Emperor. Count Piccolomini, who had distinguished
himself by his unparalleled bravery at Lutzen, was the first whose
fidelity he put to the proof. He had, he thought, gained the attachment
of this general by large presents, and preferred him to all others,
because born under the same constellations with himself. He disclosed
to him, that, in consequence of the Emperor’s ingratitude, and the near
approach of his own danger, he had irrevocably determined entirely to
abandon the party of Austria, to join the enemy with the best part of
his army, and to make war upon the House of Austria, on all sides of its
dominions, till he had wholly extirpated it. In the execution of this
plan, he principally reckoned on the services of Piccolomini, and had
beforehand promised him the greatest rewards. When the latter, to
conceal his amazement at this extraordinary communication, spoke of the
dangers and obstacles which would oppose so hazardous an enterprise,
Wallenstein ridiculed his fears. “In such enterprises,” he maintained,
“nothing was difficult but the commencement. The stars were propitious
to him, the opportunity the best that could be wished for, and something
must always be trusted to fortune. His resolution was taken, and if it
could not be otherwise, he would encounter the hazard at the head of a
thousand horse. ” Piccolomini was careful not to excite Wallenstein’s
suspicions by longer opposition, and yielded apparently to the force of
his reasoning. Such was the infatuation of the Duke, that
notwithstanding the warnings of Count Terzky, he never doubted the
sincerity of this man, who lost not a moment in communicating to the
court at Vienna this important conversation.

Preparatory to taking the last decisive step, he, in January 1634,
called a meeting of all the commanders of the army at Pilsen, whither he
had marched after his retreat from Bavaria. The Emperor’s recent orders
to spare his hereditary dominions from winter quarterings, to recover
Ratisbon in the middle of winter, and to reduce the army by a detachment
of six thousand horse to the Cardinal Infante, were matters sufficiently
grave to be laid before a council of war; and this plausible pretext
served to conceal from the curious the real object of the meeting.
Sweden and Saxony received invitations to be present, in order to treat
with the Duke of Friedland for a peace; to the leaders of more distant
armies, written communications were made. Of the commanders thus
summoned, twenty appeared; but three most influential, Gallas,
Colloredo, and Altringer, were absent. The Duke reiterated his summons
to them, and in the mean time, in expectation of their speedy arrival,
proceeded to execute his designs.

It was no light task that he had to perform: a nobleman, proud, brave,
and jealous of his honour, was to declare himself capable of the basest
treachery, in the very presence of those who had been accustomed to
regard him as the representative of majesty, the judge of their actions,
and the supporter of their laws, and to show himself suddenly as a
traitor, a cheat, and a rebel. It was no easy task, either, to shake to
its foundations a legitimate sovereignty, strengthened by time and
consecrated by laws and religion; to dissolve all the charms of the
senses and the imagination, those formidable guardians of an established
throne, and to attempt forcibly to uproot those invincible feelings of
duty, which plead so loudly and so powerfully in the breast of the
subject, in favour of his sovereign. But, blinded by the splendour of a
crown, Wallenstein observed not the precipice that yawned beneath his
feet; and in full reliance on his own strength, the common case with
energetic and daring minds, he stopped not to consider the magnitude and
the number of the difficulties that opposed him. Wallenstein saw
nothing but an army, partly indifferent and partly exasperated against
the court, accustomed, with a blind submission, to do homage to his
great name, to bow to him as their legislator and judge, and with
trembling reverence to follow his orders as the decrees of fate. In the
extravagant flatteries which were paid to his omnipotence, in the bold
abuse of the court government, in which a lawless soldiery indulged, and
which the wild licence of the camp excused, he thought he read the
sentiments of the army; and the boldness with which they were ready to
censure the monarch’s measures, passed with him for a readiness to
renounce their allegiance to a sovereign so little respected. But that
which he had regarded as the lightest matter, proved the most formidable
obstacle with which he had to contend; the soldiers’ feelings of
allegiance were the rock on which his hopes were wrecked. Deceived by
the profound respect in which he was held by these lawless bands, he
ascribed the whole to his own personal greatness, without distinguishing
how much he owed to himself, and how much to the dignity with which he
was invested. All trembled before him, while he exercised a legitimate
authority, while obedience to him was a duty, and while his consequence
was supported by the majesty of the sovereign. Greatness, in and of
itself, may excite terror and admiration; but legitimate greatness alone
can inspire reverence and submission; and of this decisive advantage he
deprived himself, the instant he avowed himself a traitor.

Field-Marshal Illo undertook to learn the sentiments of the officers,
and to prepare them for the step which was expected of them. He began
by laying before them the new orders of the court to the general and the
army; and by the obnoxious turn he skilfully gave to them, he found it
easy to excite the indignation of the assembly. After this well chosen
introduction, he expatiated with much eloquence upon the merits of the
army and the general, and the ingratitude with which the Emperor was
accustomed to requite them. “Spanish influence,” he maintained,
“governed the court; the ministry were in the pay of Spain; the Duke of
Friedland alone had hitherto opposed this tyranny, and had thus drawn
down upon himself the deadly enmity of the Spaniards. To remove him
from the command, or to make away with him entirely,” he continued, “had
long been the end of their desires; and, until they could succeed in one
or other, they endeavoured to abridge his power in the field. The
command was to be placed in the hands of the King of Hungary, for no
other reason than the better to promote the Spanish power in Germany;
because this prince, as the ready instrument of foreign counsels, might
be led at pleasure. It was merely with the view of weakening the army,
that the six thousand troops were required for the Cardinal Infante; it
was solely for the purpose of harassing it by a winter campaign, that
they were now called on, in this inhospitable season, to undertake the
recovery of Ratisbon. The means of subsistence were everywhere rendered
difficult, while the Jesuits and the ministry enriched themselves with
the sweat of the provinces, and squandered the money intended for the
pay of the troops. The general, abandoned by the court, acknowledges
his inability to keep his engagements to the army. For all the services
which, for two and twenty years, he had rendered the House of Austria;
for all the difficulties with which he had struggled; for all the
treasures of his own, which he had expended in the imperial service, a
second disgraceful dismissal awaited him. But he was resolved the
matter should not come to this; he was determined voluntarily to resign
the command, before it should be wrested from his hands; and this,”
continued the orator, “is what, through me, he now makes known to his
officers. It was now for them to say whether it would be advisable to
lose such a general. Let each consider who was to refund him the sums
he had expended in the Emperor’s service, and where he was now to reap
the reward of their bravery, when he who was their evidence removed from
the scene. ”

A universal cry, that they would not allow their general to be taken
from them, interrupted the speaker. Four of the principal officers were
deputed to lay before him the wish of the assembly, and earnestly to
request that he would not leave the army. The duke made a show of
resistance, and only yielded after the second deputation. This
concession on his side, seemed to demand a return on theirs; as he
engaged not to quit the service without the knowledge and consent of the
generals, he required of them, on the other hand, a written promise to
truly and firmly adhere to him, neither to separate nor to allow
themselves to be separated from him, and to shed their last drop of
blood in his defence. Whoever should break this covenant, was to be
regarded as a perfidious traitor, and treated by the rest as a common
enemy. The express condition which was added, “AS LONG AS WALLENSTEIN
SHALL EMPLOY THE ARMY IN THE EMPEROR’S SERVICE,” seemed to exclude all
misconception, and none of the assembled generals hesitated at once to
accede to a demand, apparently so innocent and so reasonable.

This document was publicly read before an entertainment, which
Field-Marshal Illo had expressly prepared for the purpose; it was to be
signed, after they rose from table. The host did his utmost to stupify
his guests by strong potations; and it was not until he saw them
affected with the wine, that he produced the paper for signature. Most
of them wrote their names, without knowing what they were subscribing; a
few only, more curious or more distrustful, read the paper over again,
and discovered with astonishment that the clause “as long as Wallenstein
shall employ the army for the Emperor’s service” was omitted. Illo had,
in fact, artfully contrived to substitute for the first another copy, in
which these words were wanting. The trick was manifest, and many
refused now to sign. Piccolomini, who had seen through the whole cheat,
and had been present at this scene merely with the view of giving
information of the whole to the court, forgot himself so far in his cups
as to drink the Emperor’s health. But Count Terzky now rose, and
declared that all were perjured villains who should recede from their
engagement. His menaces, the idea of the inevitable danger to which
they who resisted any longer would be exposed, the example of the rest,
and Illo’s rhetoric, at last overcame their scruples; and the paper was
signed by all without exception.

Wallenstein had now effected his purpose; but the unexpected resistance
he had met with from the commanders roused him at last from the fond
illusions in which he had hitherto indulged. Besides, most of the names
were scrawled so illegibly, that some deceit was evidently intended.
But instead of being recalled to his discretion by this warning, he gave
vent to his injured pride in undignified complaints and reproaches. He
assembled the generals the next day, and undertook personally to confirm
the whole tenor of the agreement which Illo had submitted to them the
day before. After pouring out the bitterest reproaches and abuse
against the court, he reminded them of their opposition to the
proposition of the previous day, and declared that this circumstance had
induced him to retract his own promise. The generals withdrew in
silence and confusion; but after a short consultation in the
antichamber, they returned to apologize for their late conduct, and
offered to sign the paper anew.

Nothing now remained, but to obtain a similar assurance from the absent
generals, or, on their refusal, to seize their persons. Wallenstein
renewed his invitation to them, and earnestly urged them to hasten their
arrival. But a rumour of the doings at Pilsen reached them on their
journey, and suddenly stopped their further progress. Altringer, on
pretence of sickness, remained in the strong fortress of Frauenberg.
Gallas made his appearance, but merely with the design of better
qualifying himself as an eyewitness, to keep the Emperor informed of all
Wallenstein’s proceedings. The intelligence which he and Piccolomini
gave, at once converted the suspicions of the court into an alarming
certainty. Similar disclosures, which were at the same time made from
other quarters, left no room for farther doubt; and the sudden change of
the commanders in Austria and Silesia, appeared to be the prelude to
some important enterprise. The danger was pressing, and the remedy must
be speedy, but the court was unwilling to proceed at once to the
execution of the sentence, till the regular forms of justice were
complied with. Secret instructions were therefore issued to the
principal officers, on whose fidelity reliance could be placed, to seize
the persons of the Duke of Friedland and of his two associates, Illo and
Terzky, and keep them in close confinement, till they should have an
opportunity of being heard, and of answering for their conduct; but if
this could not be accomplished quietly, the public danger required that
they should be taken dead or live. At the same time, General Gallas
received a patent commission, by which these orders of the Emperor were
made known to the colonels and officers, and the army was released from
its obedience to the traitor, and placed under Lieutenant-General
Gallas, till a new generalissimo could be appointed. In order to bring
back the seduced and deluded to their duty, and not to drive the guilty
to despair, a general amnesty was proclaimed, in regard to all offences
against the imperial majesty committed at Pilsen.

General Gallas was not pleased with the honour which was done him. He
was at Pilsen, under the eye of the person whose fate he was to dispose
of; in the power of an enemy, who had a hundred eyes to watch his
motions. If Wallenstein once discovered the secret of his commission,
nothing could save him from the effects of his vengeance and despair.
But if it was thus dangerous to be the secret depositary of such a
commission, how much more so to execute it? The sentiments of the
generals were uncertain; and it was at least doubtful whether, after the
step they had taken, they would be ready to trust the Emperor’s
promises, and at once to abandon the brilliant expectations they had
built upon Wallenstein’s enterprise. It was also hazardous to attempt
to lay hands on the person of a man who, till now, had been considered
inviolable; who from long exercise of supreme power, and from habitual
obedience, had become the object of deepest respect; who was invested
with every attribute of outward majesty and inward greatness; whose very
aspect inspired terror, and who by a nod disposed of life and death! To
seize such a man, like a common criminal, in the midst of the guards by
whom he was surrounded, and in a city apparently devoted to him; to
convert the object of this deep and habitual veneration into a subject
of compassion, or of contempt, was a commission calculated to make even
the boldest hesitate. So deeply was fear and veneration for their
general engraven in the breasts of the soldiers, that even the atrocious
crime of high treason could not wholly eradicate these sentiments.

Gallas perceived the impossibility of executing his commission under the
eyes of the duke; and his most anxious wish was, before venturing on any
steps, to have an interview with Altringer. As the long absence of the
latter had already begun to excite the duke’s suspicions, Gallas offered
to repair in person to Frauenberg, and to prevail on Altringer, his
relation, to return with him. Wallenstein was so pleased with this
proof of his zeal, that he even lent him his own equipage for the
journey. Rejoicing at the success of his stratagem, he left Pilsen
without delay, leaving to Count Piccolomini the task of watching
Wallenstein’s further movements. He did not fail, as he went along, to
make use of the imperial patent, and the sentiments of the troops proved
more favourable than he had expected. Instead of taking back his friend
to Pilsen, he despatched him to Vienna, to warn the Emperor against the
intended attack, while he himself repaired to Upper Austria, of which
the safety was threatened by the near approach of Duke Bernard. In
Bohemia, the towns of Budweiss and Tabor were again garrisoned for the
Emperor, and every precaution taken to oppose with energy the designs of
the traitor.

As Gallas did not appear disposed to return, Piccolomini determined to
put Wallenstein’s credulity once more to the test. He begged to be sent
to bring back Gallas, and Wallenstein suffered himself a second time to
be overreached. This inconceivable blindness can only be accounted for
as the result of his pride, which never retracted the opinion it had
once formed of any person, and would not acknowledge, even to itself,
the possibility of being deceived. He conveyed Count Piccolomini in his
own carriage to Lintz, where the latter immediately followed the example
of Gallas, and even went a step farther. He had promised the duke to
return. He did so, but it was at the head of an army, intending to
surprise the duke in Pilsen. Another army under General Suys hastened
to Prague, to secure that capital in its allegiance, and to defend it
against the rebels. Gallas, at the same time, announced himself to the
different imperial armies as the commander-in-chief, from whom they were
henceforth to receive orders. Placards were circulated through all the
imperial camps, denouncing the duke and his four confidants, and
absolving the soldiers from all obedience to him.

The example which had been set at Lintz, was universally followed;
imprecations were showered on the traitor, and he was forsaken by all
the armies. At last, when even Piccolomini returned no more, the mist
fell from Wallenstein’s eyes, and in consternation he awoke from his
dream. Yet his faith in the truth of astrology, and in the fidelity of
the army was unshaken. Immediately after the intelligence of
Piccolomini’s defection, he issued orders, that in future no commands
were to be obeyed, which did not proceed directly from himself, or from
Terzky, or Illo. He prepared, in all haste, to advance upon Prague,
where he intended to throw off the mask, and openly to declare against
the Emperor. All the troops were to assemble before that city, and from
thence to pour down with rapidity upon Austria. Duke Bernard, who had
joined the conspiracy, was to support the operations of the duke, with
the Swedish troops, and to effect a diversion upon the Danube.

Terzky was already upon his march towards Prague; and nothing, but the
want of horses, prevented the duke from following him with the regiments
who still adhered faithfully to him. But when, with the most anxious
expectation, he awaited the intelligence from Prague, he suddenly
received information of the loss of that town, the defection of his
generals, the desertion of his troops, the discovery of his whole plot,
and the rapid advance of Piccolomini, who was sworn to his destruction.
Suddenly and fearfully had all his projects been ruined--all his hopes
annihilated. He stood alone, abandoned by all to whom he had been a
benefactor, betrayed by all on whom he had depended. But it is under
such circumstances that great minds reveal themselves. Though deceived
in all his expectations, he refused to abandon one of his designs; he
despaired of nothing, so long as life remained. The time was now come,
when he absolutely required that assistance, which he had so often
solicited from the Swedes and the Saxons, and when all doubts of the
sincerity of his purposes must be dispelled. And now, when Oxenstiern
and Arnheim were convinced of the sincerity of his intentions, and were
aware of his necessities, they no longer hesitated to embrace the
favourable opportunity, and to offer him their protection. On the part
of Saxony, the Duke Francis Albert of Saxe Lauenberg was to join him
with 4,000 men; and Duke Bernard, and the Palatine Christian of
Birkenfeld, with 6,000 from Sweden, all chosen troops.