After they had examined and admired the body, one of the hunters was ordered to ride back and look after the wounded Nimrod. He soon returned with the good news that the hound was not dangerously wounded, but he thought it would be well to let him lie there until evening and bathe his wound. The forester commissioned one of his helpers to ride to the hunting-castle, harness up a team, and go to the spot; and the Baron ordered breakfast and wine to be brought. While they were waiting, the Prince and pages enjoyed a swim in the lake. After they had been in the water about half an hour, the wagon came bringing the breakfast in baskets, and Preceptor Müller, who was warmly welcomed. After a little the bathers came back with lusty appetites. A snow-white cloth was spread upon the ground and covered with good things to eat and drink. The time was spent in pleasant conversation, and it may be imagined the forester did not lose the opportunity to tell some of his most interesting hunting stories. At the sound of the horn, the homeward journey was begun, a wagon, decorated with fir branches and carrying the stag, bringing up the rear of the procession.
Baron Leuchtmar received a reply to his letter to the Electoress in which she authorized him to communicate any information to the Prince about the events connected with the war which he could understand. In reality she would have preferred to have him remain ignorant about it, but as that was no longer possible, he might inform him so far as it seemed necessary.
Leuchtmar began his task at once. He went back to the times of the Reformation to show the Prince that the war which had cost Germany so much blood and so many tears was a war of religious faiths. Then he told him about conditions in Bohemia, the elevation of his uncle Frederick the Fifth to the throne of that country and his downfall, and finally the appearance of Wallenstein upon the arena of war. This occupied one evening. The Prince was deeply interested in what he heard, and would gladly have learned further details about the careers of this or that person, but he realized, as Leuchtmar had pointed out, that to understand the events of the existing war he must first be acquainted with events leading up to it.
The next evening the Prince, Leuchtmar, the Preceptor, and the pages assembled in the hunting-room and took their places at a long oval table lit by silver sconces. All listened as Leuchtmar began his talk:—
“Before I go on with Wallenstein’s operations I must mention two of the fiercest, stoutest champions of the Protestant cause as well as of your unfortunate uncle. They are the Count von Mansfeld and Duke Christian of Brunswick. The first was actively engaged in Frederick’s cause while he was still King of Bohemia. He was exceedingly able and had many hard battles with the League, as also did Duke Christian. Both were very vindictive against the Catholic bishops and abbots, especially the Duke. He once looted a Catholic monastery of its silver, had it melted down and coined, and inscribed upon the coins: ‘God’s friend, the priests’ enemy.’ Your uncle, who had found refuge in Holland, was told that if he would discharge these generals the Emperor would be delighted to restore the Palatinate to him. Frederick believed what was told him and dismissed them, only to find himself disappointed. The two went to Holland to assist that country against Spain. Christian, at the very outset, was so badly wounded in the arm that it had to be amputated. The operation was performed by his orders, to an accompaniment of trumpet fanfares, and when it was over he sent word to the opposing general that the mad duke had lost one arm but he was keeping the other to inflict vengeance upon his enemies. This he did not fail in doing. The two generals were in Holland but a short time. Count von Mansfeld was defeated on the Elbe, at the bridge of Dessau in 1626 by Wallenstein; and of his twenty thousand men he could only rally five thousand about him in Germany. We have suffered much from the outrages of his troops, for there were many very bad men among them. He marched through Silesia and Moravia into Transylvania. Wallenstein pursued him, which gave Christian of Denmark, who had espoused the Protestant cause, an opportunity to take the field.
“The Count von Mansfeld supposed that he would have no difficulty in conducting operations against the Emperor in Transylvania. He knew that Prince Bethlen Gabor, who was ruling at that time, had been engaged in a fierce contest with the Emperor a short time previously; but he soon discovered, greatly to his surprise, that peace had been made between them. He then went to England to raise troops for fresh undertakings, and died while thus engaged. When he realized that his end was near he donned his armor and helmet and died erect, supported by two of his officers. The Duke of Brunswick died in the same year.
“In the meantime, as I have already mentioned, another champion of the Protestant cause appeared, Christian the Fourth, King of Denmark, and the Dukes of Brunswick and Mecklenburg joined him. Their union was already accomplished when Wallenstein appeared upon the scene. Supposing that they were confronted by the League alone, they now discovered that they had to meet a second and much stronger foe. While Wallenstein was pursuing Count von Mansfeld the League’s forces were contending with those of the King of Denmark. The former were led by Tilly. The King tried to evade a battle, but he was finally forced into it at the village of Lutter. Christian fought bravely, but his troops were no match for those of the League. He lost the battle and had to fly. Tilly pursued him and captured one strong place after another. Meanwhile Wallenstein returned from his pursuit of the Count von Mansfeld and improved the opportunity to make a trip from Frankfurt to Berlin.”
“Was he in Berlin?” asked the Prince, in amazement. “Did he go there as friend or enemy?”
“Not as a friend and yet not as an avowed enemy.”
In the dark days
In the dark days
“But we are Protestants, and he is the leader on the Catholic side,” said the Prince.
“You are right,” replied Leuchtmar, “and yet we made no hostile movement against him.”
“Was no assistance tendered by us to the Protestants who rose in arms against the Catholics?”
“None.”
“Why not?”
“My Prince,” said Leuchtmar, after a pause, “it is not so easy to answer that question as you think. Perhaps some time you may be able to do so. You must trust your father in this matter. In this great war he has thus far not taken sides with the Protestants. Be assured he has good reasons for his course. Now listen to me once more. Our first minister, Count Schwarzenberg, is a Cath—”
“Pardon me, Herr Leuchtmar, for interrupting you,” said the Prince. “We are Protestants and our first minister is a Catholic?”
“I can give you a reason for that,” replied Leuchtmar. “There is an unfortunate division among the Protestants. The two factions are called Lutherans and Reformers. They are very bitter against each other, the Lutherans especially so. Were not this the case the Catholics would not have been so successful. I think your father did not care to add oil to the flames by selecting his first minister from either of those two factions. Their enmity was so strong that they would rather see a Catholic at the head of the Privy Council in Berlin than any one from either faction. It is undoubtedly due to our Catholic minister Schwarzenberg that Wallenstein was much gentler among us at the beginning of the campaign than we had any reason to expect he would be. Schwarzenberg implored him to spare the country, and upon the same occasion invited him to go to Berlin. He accepted the invitation and went there with thirty princes, counts, and barons, sixteen pages, twenty-four halberdiers, twelve lackeys, and a great number of chamberlains, cooks, and servants,—in all fifteen hundred persons and a thousand horses. He remained in Berlin only one night and on the next day went back to his army, which already had been increased to a hundred thousand men. He advanced with this army, driving the Danes before him. His monthly stipend at that time, six thousand gulden, had increased by the end of 1627 to one hundred and eighty thousand, and as it had not been paid, the Emperor indemnified him with the dukedom of Sagan as a feudal tenure and also made him a prince of the empire. Thereupon he aspired to the possession of Mecklenburg. As both the dukes were allies of the King of Denmark and had therefore incurred the enmity of the Emperor, he had no difficulty in getting his consent. Ferdinand outlawed the dukes and granted Wallenstein the possession of Mecklenburg.”
“About what time did this occur?” asked the Prince.
“In the year 1629,” replied Leuchtmar.
“You have forgotten one very important event, Herr Leuchtmar,” remarked the Preceptor, “the siege of Stralsund, the year before, in 1628.”
“That is true,” said Leuchtmar, “and I thank you, Herr Preceptor, for reminding me of it. Stralsund is one of the Hanseatic cities and has a regular military force. As Wallenstein absolutely dominated city and country, wherever he was, he thought he could do the same in Stralsund. He sent a force there which he expected would garrison the city. The Stralsunders, however, closed their gates and would not admit the imperial troops. Doubtless they were sufficiently familiar with imperial outrages even against friends. They sent an embassy to Wallenstein to justify their action. He turned upon them in a rage and declared in substance that even were Stralsund bound to the heavens by a chain he would break it and enter the city. The brave Stralsunders in the meantime made preparations for a stout resistance. They also applied to the King of Denmark for help, as well as to another sovereign who is a near relation of yours, my Prince.”
“Ah! you mean Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden.”
“Yes. Both sent help,—Gustavus Adolphus ammunition, the Danish king four companies of foot soldiers. Wallenstein’s force besieged and assaulted the city without any effect. Then Wallenstein came in person, demanded the city’s surrender, and swore that if it refused he would spare neither old nor young. The magistrates hesitated, but the burghers, encouraged by the arrival of four hundred Danes and two thousand Swedes, refused to open the gates to the enemy. It will be to their honor for all time that they were so courageous and resolute. All Wallenstein’s exertions were useless; after losing twelve thousand men before the walls of the city he had to make a dishonorable, shameful retreat.”
With this, the talk for that day closed.
Early the next morning Leuchtmar went out for a walk in the castle grounds. The air was fresh and fragrant, and the golden morning light shimmered among the trees. As it was nearly six o’clock, he went in to wake the Prince. He walked up to his bed and drew back the silken curtains. The Prince lay before him the picture of health. His cheeks glowed, and his lips were deep red in color. “Poor little fellow,” he thought to himself, “thy peace is forever gone. The knowledge of the world thou hast acquired will wither many an innocent joy in the bud. As the years increase, thy anxiety and cares will increase. Is not the lot of a prince harder than that of any one of his subjects?”
The clock struck six and Leuchtmar aroused the Prince. His first words were: “Herr Leuchtmar, I have been in Stralsund all night, fighting upon the walls against the Emperor’s troops. Wallenstein came, wearing a blood-red cloak, and rose to such a towering height that his head overtopped the walls. Some of our men fled, but the most remained and shot and thrust at him. At last a cannon ball took off his head and he fell.” At breakfast, also, the Prince mentioned his dream.
Before Leuchtmar resumed his talk on the next evening the Prince asked a question. He recalled the miller’s son they had met in the woods and inquired if this was the same Wallenstein his father had meant when he spoke of his son’s joining his army.
Soldiers at the time of the Thirty Years’ War’
Soldiers at the time of the Thirty Years’ War’
“Yes, my Prince,” replied Leuchtmar, “and the miller also said, you remember, that many young fellows in that vicinity were running away to serve in that army. This reminds me to tell you something about the soldier’s life at the period of which we have been hearing.” Leuchtmar picked up a paper from the table, and, glancing at it now and then, resumed: “I will name to you the Emperor’s generals who were the most moderate in their treatment of our people. They were Generals Arnim and Pappenheim. Wallenstein assigned one to Altmark, the other to Ukermark. Although, as I have just said, they conducted themselves more moderately than the others in authority, yet they demanded from the people seven gulden for each musketeer, twelve for each trooper, and fifteen for each cuirassier in monthly payments. The extortions of Colonel Hebron in the Winter of 1624-25 were frightful. Brandenburg, Rathenow, Treuenbrietzen, Belitz, Spandau, Potsdam, Rauen, and vicinity had to pay him 7,700 gulden a month in cash. A year afterwards Montecuculi was even more cruel in Neumark. He made an inhuman demand of the Landtag then in session, requiring for his staff and his own command not less than 29,520 gulden monthly, 12,000 for his table, 600 for the table of each of his under officers, 1,940 for other commands, 4,800 for recruiting service,—in all, not taking minor expenses into account, 96,860 gulden for the period of two months. With their utmost exertion the people could raise only one-third that sum. ‘You dogs,’ exclaimed Montecuculi to the committee which waited upon him and begged him to spare them, ‘You dogs, why have you not done what I told you?’ They replied they had given all they had. ‘Good,’ said Montecuculi; ‘now I will show you what happens to those who do not pay the tax levied upon them.’ The burghers and peasants were maltreated and the last of their effects were taken from them by force. This opened the eyes of those who were of the same faith. What were these soldiers, they said, but robbers? And who was their leader but the leader of a band of robbers?”
Leuchtmar was greatly excited as he spoke, as well as the others. “Yes,” exclaimed the Preceptor, “they will be detested as robbers to the latest times.”
Leuchtmar resumed: “And while Montecuculi and his officers were carousing, the people whom they had robbed went begging from house to house and from place to place. There was dreadful consternation in all the villages. The fiends themselves could not have invented more ingenious tortures to force the villagers to disclose where they had hidden their last pfenning. In some places people were killed after they had given up all they had, then their houses were fired, and thus whole districts were desolated.”
The Prince said nothing, but tears streamed down his red cheeks.
“This is enough for to-day,” said the Preceptor; “I will defer what I have to say until to-morrow.” Leuchtmar agreed to this, and then related to the Prince the tale of Perseus by Ovid, his favorite story-teller. It made little impression upon him, however, so deeply had he been affected by the evening’s talk.
“My Prince,” the Preceptor began, “there was a brief time of peace in Germany. The Count von Mansfeld and Duke Christian of Brunswick were dead; your uncle, Prince of the Palatinate, and both the Dukes of Mecklenburg were driven out of the country, and the Danish King had been compelled to make peace. It was confidently expected that the Army of the League, led by Tilly, would be withdrawn to Bavaria and that of Wallenstein into the imperial dominions, and then there would be peace everywhere in Germany, which was bleeding from a thousand wounds and needed peace for its own recuperation. But the Emperor Ferdinand prevented it. The Jesuits told him, ‘Now or never is the time to crush out the Reformation. Use it.’
“Ferdinand was only too willing to obey his spiritual masters. He signed a document called ‘The Restitutions Edict.’ I will give you only its principal provisions. All the sees and ecclesiastical property appropriated since the treaty of Passau (1525), shall be restored to the Catholics. Every Catholic prince shall have the right to demand of his subjects that they embrace his faith, and those who refuse or hesitate shall be outlawed. As soon as the edict was promulgated the Jesuits and Capuchins appeared in swarms to regain possession of the promised property, and the Emperor’s soldiers accompanied them on pillaging expeditions. Augsburg gave up six monasteries and was forced to recognize the bishop. It was the same in Wurzburg. The excitement in the Protestant parts of middle and south Germany was almost indescribable. Lichtenstein’s dragoons looted Silesia. Brandenburg also yielded its right to an archbishopric and gave up its four sees. Matters with us, however, did not reach so serious a pass, for two good reasons. Ferdinand wished to establish his son firmly in the succession and needed the votes of the Electors, as well as that of your gracious father. For this reason he delayed the enforcement of the edict. But there was a still stronger reason. A hero, the ‘Star of the North,’ was giving him great anxiety. Whom did that name mean? Whom else than the knightly King, Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden? In the war with Poland he had shown all the qualities that go to make a hero. The six years’ armistice with that country was accomplished, and it was now expected he would have something to say about affairs in Germany.”
There was some desultory talk about Gustavus Adolphus and his appearance in Germany, after which Leuchtmar said: “The two Catholic generals, Wallenstein and Tilly, now had to meet a different enemy from Christian of Denmark. He had won his spurs when seventeen years of age, in an expedition against that King. It is now time, however, to bring our talk to a close, and I will mention only one incident in his career. In the Polish war it happened upon one occasion that his courage outran his prudence, and he suddenly found himself surrounded by his enemies. Death or capture seemed the only alternative, and he decided to die fighting. Right and left his foes fell before his stout blows. At the critical moment a Swedish cavalryman supported by his comrades rescued the King at the risk of their own lives. Not long afterwards the King found his rescuer a captive. He dashed into the crowd and freed him in turn. ‘Brother comrade,’ he called out, ‘now we are even with each other.’ My Prince, how do you like your cousin?”
The Prince made no reply in words but his eyes spoke what he thought. The old Preceptor’s eyes flashed also when he arose, Bible in hand, and said: “Yes, yes, he is coming! the ‘Hero of the North’—the ‘Lion of the Northland,’ as he is variously called. He will be our David, and the Lord will give him strength to vanquish his enemies. Now let us reverently read the Twenty-seventh Psalm, which begins with these words: ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”
Weeks have passed since the events just described. Knowledge has opened a new world for the Prince. Many questions have arisen in his mind. Some of them were settled, others troubled him. It was growing unsafe in the vicinity of Letzlingen. Several pillaging bands had appeared and murders had been committed. For this reason Leuchtmar wrote to the Elector, asking whether it would not be advisable to return to Cüstrin rather than remain at the hunting-castle until Fall, as originally intended.
It was midnight before his letter was finished, for he had much to say about the Prince’s intellectual and physical progress, and then he retired. The wind roared in the chimney. The vines clinging to the iron shutters of the windows shook against the panes. Before he could get to sleep he heard a shot. He closed his eyes. Then came a second shot. Naturally he thought there was a party of marauders near by, and yet there might be some other cause for the firing. He quietly arose, went into the front room, closed the door behind him and stepped to the window. He opened it and listened. He heard voices near the charcoal-burner’s hut. The hounds were already barking furiously. A number of persons seemed to be approaching the castle. The forester was on the alert. There was a soft knock at the door; Leuchtmar opened it. The Preceptor stood there with a light in his hand and anxiously asked him what he thought about the noise. Two servants who slept in the entry had started up, and the forester soon appeared at the door. “It is a plundering gang,” said he, “but they will find their match.”
“Silence, silence!” cautioned Leuchtmar. “Let us first consider what it is best to do.” He went again to the window, but only heard the voices of those approaching; what they said was inaudible by reason of the barking of the dogs. The forester in the meantime went into the castle yard, hunting-knife in one hand and pistol in the other, and asked who they were, after a hunter had quieted the dogs with a whip.
“Colonel von Burgsdorf and two attendants, who have lost their way,” was the reply.
The forester hesitated about opening the gate, but Leuchtmar, who recognized Von Burgsdorf’s voice, assured him that all was right and gave his friend a hearty welcome. He had lost his way in the forest and had purposely raised an alarm. Fortunately he found himself near the castle. The barking of the dogs first gave him the right direction, and then the charcoal-burner, whom he aroused, directed him to the castle.
The three men soon were sitting together, the Colonel, Leuchtmar, and Müller, in the Preceptor’s apartment. Burgsdorf was a somewhat corpulent man with a genial face, notwithstanding his fierce mustaches. In a jovial way he declared that he had some highly important news, but he would not give them a morsel of it until he had appeased his hunger and quenched his thirst. Leuchtmar had already made his arrangements and a cold supper was brought in,—half a mountain-cock, and a wild boar’s head with a lemon in its mouth, and good Rhine wine was not lacking. As he ate and drank heartily, he made fun of his table companions, who were sitting by him hungering for the news. At last he said: “I will begin my information thus: If there should be one explosion right at your doors would you not be frightened? and then, if a second should occur, would you not immediately make preparations to leave? What do you think about it?”
“Great heaven! you have terrified me already,” said the Preceptor.
Leuchtmar spoke: “In fact, great things must have happened, when you introduce them in this way.”
“They have happened,” replied Burgsdorf. “Now listen: First explosion—Wallenstein has been dismissed. Second explosion—Gustavus Adolphus has landed in Pomerania. Ah! I see that the news excites you even more than if two powder-houses had exploded at your very door.”
“Herr Colonel, you are a reliable man, otherwise I should think—”
“Two such pieces of news at once! This is too much; one is all we can stand.”
Thus spoke Leuchtmar and Müller. The latter added: “And what about Tilly?”
“He is still at large,” replied Burgsdorf; “my information concerns Wallenstein only. And do you know who brought about his retirement? The Catholic princes, his companions in the League. The rascal’s colossal audacity was too much for them. They could not endure that he should dispossess the Dukes of Mecklenburg (though they cared nothing for them personally, as they are Protestants) and strut about as an imperial prince.”
“Aha! So he has got himself into trouble!”
“Surely! Ferdinand went with high hopes to the assembly of the Electors at Regensburg. He intended to crush out the rights of the Protestants completely, besides arranging for the choice of his son as his successor. It turned out differently from what he expected. There was a storm of complaints on all sides, and in the midst of the excitement Maximilian of Bavaria appeared upon the scene. He satirically charged that Wallenstein was only the leader of the imperial halberdiers whom he had collected in Germany at an exorbitant price. Was it not most atrocious, he said, that the Electors, the pillars of the empire, should be made subordinate to the imperial army commanders, especially in Brandenburg, where this had been the case for years?”
“This much I know,” said the Preceptor, “his expenses are not to be reckoned by thousands or hundreds of thousands, but by millions.”
“Twenty million gulden,” said Burgsdorf, “and perhaps more. Everything combined to force Ferdinand to displace Wallenstein. Many teeth chattered at the thought, ‘Will the mighty Wallenstein give up his sword without resistance?’ He has done it. They say that the stars told him he must obey the Emperor’s behest.”
Leuchtmar interrupted: “May he not contemplate taking it up again? Then he will make more extortionate demands than the former ones.”
“Very possible,” replied Burgsdorf. “He has a penetrating foresight.”
The Preceptor now asked: “Was the arrival of Gustavus Adolphus known at that time to Regensburg?”
“No,” replied Burgsdorf; “otherwise the Emperor would have had most substantial reasons for deferring the dismissal of his favorite, who has now retired to his kennel in Prague. But who can tell what is going on now in his brains? What may they be hatching—cruel scenes of blood and revenge? But let us drop this fiend and speak of that brilliant hero, Gustavus Adolphus! It seems to me that the lightning of his sword is already flashing all over Germany. He will measure himself with Tilly, who is now in supreme command of the Catholic army.”
“Truly, this news,” said Leuchtmar, “is soul-inspiring. I feel already as if a new order of things had come. But how are affairs at the court? Above all, what does Schwarzenberg say?”
Burgsdorf made a bitter grimace. “He has been trying in every way to induce the Elector to join the Emperor, and failing in that, he continually urges him to remain neutral and not to recognize Gustavus Adolphus. Now, as you know, there is a party at the Elector’s court which for a long time has practically been on the side of Sweden. That I belong to it you will not doubt. The Electoress is decidedly on our side. The Elector remains quiet, and no one knows what is passing in his mind. One remark of Gustavus Adolphus concerning Schwarzenberg is well known. He called him a traitor, and added that he richly deserved to have his neck broken. To prevent a meeting of the two, the Elector has sent Schwarzenberg on business to Treves. I wish that he might never come back.”
They spoke of many other distinguished persons and important events. At last Burgsdorf told them that he was commissioned to arrange for the return of the Prince to Cüstrin, as it was safer there than at the hunting-castle. For this reason no letter had been sent, as he had undertaken to convey the message personally.
It was between three and four o’clock in the morning when they sought their beds.
When Gustavus Adolphus took his solemn farewell of the Swedish council he confided himself to the protection of the Almighty. His last words, “I bid you all a heartfelt farewell, perhaps forever; perhaps we see each other for the last time,” brought tears to the eyes of all present. After a moment’s silence the King closed with a fervent prayer.
The King embarked at once. After a long and stormy passage he landed, July 4, 1630, just a hundred years after the reading of the Augsburg Confession, upon the little island of Ruden. As soon as he had landed he fell upon his knees in earnest prayer. To his followers, who were moved to tears by his fervor, he said: “The more prayer, the surer victory; for he who prays often has already half striven and gained the victory.” Thereupon, taking spade in hand, and while the disembarkation was going on, he helped half of the landed troops in throwing up defences, while the rest stood guard under arms. Notwithstanding the meagreness of his supplies, he maintained strict discipline, and his soldiers were forbidden under penalty of death to break into houses or to annoy or rob any one. His little army of fifteen thousand men presented a strong contrast with the robber bands of that time, who fought only where there was a chance of booty and dissoluteness. At the outset the Swedes were derided and called “starvelings” and “bigots,” but they were full soon recognized as warriors to be feared. Even at the imperial court they were looked upon with contempt when the landing was announced, but the court soon learned its mistake.
Gustavus Adolphus suddenly appeared before Stettin. Pomerania, like Brandenburg, had been devastated by the Imperialists. Bogislav Fourteenth, Duke of Pomerania, yielded to the inevitable and made a treaty with Gustavus Adolphus, whose army at the close of the year 1630 had been increased to thirty thousand men by accessions from Sweden and by deserters from the enemy. At the beginning of the year 1631 a treaty was made between Sweden and France, for the increasing power of the Emperor had long displeased France. In Germany about this time the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, the Landgrave Ludwig Wilhelm of Hesse-Cassel, and the city of Magdeburg declared for Gustavus Adolphus. The Imperialists retreated before him. He attacked Frankfort and took the city by storm. Not a single combatant was spared, because Tilly, at the capture of Neubrandenburg, had killed two thousand Swedes in violation of the rules of warfare. Gustavus Adolphus next appeared before Berlin and ordered the Elector to declare whether he would close a treaty with him, like the princes named above, or be his enemy. The Swedish party in Berlin, to which the Electoress and her mother belonged, besides most of the councillors (among them Pruckmann and Von Burgsdorf, whose acquaintance we have made at Letzlingen) exerted themselves to the utmost to induce the Elector to make the treaty; but it came to nought. Gustavus Adolphus meanwhile received word from Magdeburg that it was besieged by Tilly, and that it depended upon him to relieve the city. But this master of war knew that in spite of all calculations and the utmost courage a retreat might be necessary if he did not occupy strong positions, so as not to be cut off from his base of operations. Gustavus Adolphus desired the concession of the fortresses of Spandau and Cüstrin. The Elector consented, but upon condition that the fortresses should be given back immediately after the raising of the siege.
Gustavus Adolphus now advanced toward the Elbe, sent ambassadors to the Elector of Saxony, and asked of him the surrender of Wittenberg that he might have free passage of the Elbe. The Elector hesitated while the danger to Magdeburg steadily increased. Suddenly came the dreadful news that Magdeburg had fallen. Of its thirty-five thousand citizens, thirty thousand were put to death by Tilly’s hordes, and after a few days in the place of a flourishing city only a heap of ruins was left, from which the smoke of the fires which had been kindled rose to heaven.
The news of the fall of Magdeburg deeply pained the King, but his courage did not waver in the least.
Gustavus Adolphus shortly appeared again with his army before Berlin and trained his cannon upon it, whereupon its citizens became panic-stricken. The King well knew that there was a strong party opposed to him, and he decided to see what effect a menacing attitude would have upon them. The Electoress and her mother, the widowed Princess of the Palatinate, betook themselves to the King’s camp and arranged for an interview between the King and the Elector. At the place of their meeting, near the Stralauer Gate, a Berlin alderman owned a fruit garden, in which he had erected a handsome summer house. At the appointed hour the Elector appeared in his coach, accompanied by Pruckmann and Burgsdorf. His face showed that the sufferings of his people had made a deep impression upon him. He dismounted and went to the summer house, where he was notified that the King was near by. Standing at the door he saw his royal brother-in-law upon his steed, accompanied by a brilliant array of officers, approaching the summer house. The Elector advanced to meet him, Pruckmann and Burgsdorf following. The princes greeted each other by word, hand shake, and kiss, but the greeting was not characterized by warmth of feeling on either side. How could it have been otherwise?
“Dear brother-in-law,” began the King in a loud voice, “I come in the name of our holy religion, to which we belong, to invite you to join with me against our common hereditary enemy. Once there was a union of German princes. Where is it now? Three times I have offered you my hand. Wavering courage, discord, fear of the world’s opinions have prevented the making of a common agreement against the Emperor and the Catholic League. Now I have come here at my own risk, and trusting in God have raised my banners for the protection of the oppressed followers of our faith.”
The Elector replied: “My dear brother-in-law, how well I know that our beloved Church is sorely beset! Twelve long years I have borne this sorrow which has well-nigh overcome my soul, and the burden only grows heavier. This war is wasting Germany like a dreadful disease. But you know as well as I that religion is not the only exciting cause of it.”
“We must sever conflicting interests as once the Gordian knot was cut. There is no other way, and we must strike the blow now while our sinews are still strong. If we hesitate longer, all Protestant countries will share the fate of Bohemia and the Palatinate.”
“Is that the only possible way? The Emperor has yielded somewhat. Wallenstein has been dismissed.”
“Yes,” said the King, “one person may fall, but does the spirit which calls men fall with him? The smoking ruins of Magdeburg answer the question. In the place of Wallenstein, Tilly was there. And may not Wallenstein be summoned again? May he not any day emerge from his hiding-place? Where he will be needed is as clear as the day. Stralsund is the key of the Baltic. That is why so much blood was shed to win it. Ferdinand’s plans are clear. The promulgation of the Restitutions Edict for the north of Germany has been delayed, but when the delay is ended, then it will be time for the northern empire to draw the sword. Has not Wallenstein already shown his enmity to Sweden? For years he sent troops to my enemies, the Poles, and when I called him to account for it he gave me the insulting answer that he was not in want of those he spared. May they not put forth fresh and redoubled exertions to secure Stralsund? I know well enough there are persons who will say now and in the future, ‘What business has Sweden to meddle with the war in Germany?’ Thus fools and ill-wishers will talk. There is a war against the Protestant Church, and if it be destroyed in Germany it will be destroyed in Sweden. Shall I suffer the last hope of German Protestants to disappear before I move? No. I clearly see what would happen if I, as a Protestant prince, should act as you have done,—tremble and hesitate; now assume an earnest manner as if I were about to draw the sword, and then, submissively smiling, acknowledge my vassalage. Tell me, my brother-in-law, what have your vacillating politics toward Austria during the last twelve years done for you? Could the hardest war have caused the loss of more men and money than has already occurred?”
“I fear, yes. An openly declared war against the Emperor might cost me as much as it has cost the Duke of Mecklenburg against whom the ban has been pronounced.”
“Yes, an unjust, unrighteous act. But the ban is now an empty shell, for I have restored this right to the Duke.”
“That is very good,” replied the Elector. “But can you guarantee that that ends the matter? You are a brave warrior. You have proved it in Poland and in many places in Germany. And yet the history of all times and people shows that the personal courage and ability of a leader do not always decide a contest. There are many things which upset all human calculations. Shall I now place my own and my country’s welfare upon the hazard of a die held in the hand of a man very dear to me, and yet mortal?”
The King’s face reddened as he said: “Is that your last word, brother-in-law?”
“By no means, my brother. Do not be angry with me,” replied the Elector. Seizing the King’s hand, he continued: “Would you look into the very depths of my soul? Come with me.”
Both princes went into the garden house, where they remained for an hour. When they came out they came hand in hand. When they first met they coolly shook hands. At parting they embraced each other affectionately. The King rode back to camp and the Elector to the city.
What did one of them say to the other at this meeting?
“I cannot blame my brother-in-law for hesitating hitherto to grant my wishes,” said Gustavus Adolphus. “They are dangerous things which I ask.”
And the Elector said at the castle: “Who can withstand that magnificent man? We have shown each other our inmost emotions. He is actuated by the feelings of injured honor, the safety of his empire, and above all else by his devotion to our faith. He is travelling a dangerous road. May God be his helper.”
Upon the afternoon of the same day Gustavus Adolphus entered Berlin with his army. In the evening a treaty was made between the Electorate of Brandenburg and Sweden. Spandau was given over anew to the Swedes, the opening of Cüstrin was promised in case of retreat, and thirty thousand thalers monthly was guaranteed for the support of the Swedish army.
Terrible news spread over Germany in November, 1632. Gustavus Adolphus, the hero, but for whom Germany would have been a second Spain, was killed at the battle of Lützen on the sixth of that month. The battle was won, but he paid for the victory with his life. They found the hero’s body after the battle, plundered and trodden under foot, covered with blood and wounds, and lying face downward. It was taken in an ammunition wagon to the village of Menchen. From there it was carried in a simple casket to Weissenfels, where it was embalmed and thence was conveyed in solemn procession through Wittenberg to Wolgast. From there in the Spring of 1633 the Prince and his noble kinsmen accompanied the coffin to the vessel which was to bear it home.
The Prince was the first to meet the royal widow. When she saw him, she wrung her hands, went up to him weeping and embraced him. Gradually she regained composure and began to speak of her husband. “You too, my Frederick,” she said, “were included in his plans. You are to be the inheritor of his power and the champion of Protestantism. He has also consigned to you a precious treasure, our little daughter Christine, heiress to the Swedish crown. He has confided her to your love and care. How often, especially since his death, have I thought of what he said at that time! Alas! he had then a presentiment that he would never return! I can never forget his words. ‘Do not imagine,’ he said to the Diet, ‘that I enter upon this war impelled by common ambition. I venture all to release the Church from the domination of the Pope, and because I expect to accomplish it with divine assistance. I have many times fought for the welfare of the kingdom, and God has always saved me from death. But it cannot always be so, and at last I must give up my life. Therefore I commend you all to God, the Almighty, and hope that after this sorrowful life of trouble we may all meet again in the future in heaven.’”
This and much more concerning her husband the Queen related to the Prince. One of the captains who had accompanied her to Wolgast, a German, had been in the battle of Lützen. The Crown-prince requested his royal aunt to summon the man. “As you wish to learn of the battle from one who participated in it you shall meet the man—but not here, not now.”
That evening the Crown-prince’s parents arrived, also the Dukes of Mecklenburg, who owed the restoration of their dukedoms to the King. The meeting between the parents and the Prince was a most affectionate one. On the following day the escort for the King’s body, which rested in a silver casket, accompanied it on board the ship. Cavalry and artillery bearing standards and banners captured at Lützen marched in advance. The banners of Sweden were draped. Then came the hearse, drawn by eight horses with black velvet trappings. The Elector George William as the nearest mourner, followed on foot, accompanied by the two Dukes of Mecklenburg. The Crown-prince followed as second mourner, accompanied by the Pomeranian embassy. A long train of mourners succeeded them and closed the procession, all heavily burdened with anxiety as they reflected upon the future. Solemnly it moved to the harbor. The precious remains of the King were placed on board, and amid the booming of cannon the vessel weighed anchor.
The progress of our narrative brings us to the neighborhood of Arnheim in Holland. On a canal, a few miles from that city, we meet a boat being towed along. It resembles a barge, is about sixteen to twenty feet in length and ten feet in width, and is divided into two sections. The forward section is intended for freight and second-class passengers; and the rear one, a handsomely painted cabin, for first-class. It contains a table and cushioned seats under the windows. The boat is drawn by a number of horses attached to a long line fastened to the top of the mast. A boy rides one of the horses at an easy trot along the towpath.