The late war between France and Germany belongs to the history of the present generation. Its great events and changes to Germany are within the memory of many of our readers. It will be longest remembered because of its association with the formation of the present empire. While the siege of Paris was yet in progress (January 1871) the spirit of enthusiasm became so great, and the desire for national unity so strong, that the various sovereign states, as well as the members of the Confederation determined on a revival of the empire. At their joint instance, in the great hall of Louis XIV., at Versailles, King William of Prussia received the imperial crown with the title of German Emperor. Under this new empire the whole German nation, Austria alone excepted, is united more closely than it has been for more than six hundred years, or since the Great Interregnum. It is not too much to say that the last decade has been the brightest and most prosperous in German history. The new empire has made possible and developed a feeling of patriotism which could not exist while the race was divided into fifty or more separate states. It was the complaint of her greatest poet, Goethe, that there was no united Germany to awaken pride and patriotism in the German heart. That condition of things is now done away by the present national government, which, though retaining many of the imperial features of the past, has, at the same time, embodied some of the more liberal governmental ideas of the present age. Such, for instance, is the election by direct universal suffrage and by ballot, of the Reichstag, one of the two legislative councils of the empire. The German name was never more respected and honored throughout the world than it is to-day; not alone for her eminent position among the powers of Europe, but for her high rank in the empires of art, philosophy and science. Her great universities are admired wherever in the world there is appreciation for scholarship, industry and genius. If the present has any right to prophesy it must be that the coming years contain for Germany less of wars and dissension, more of peace, coöperation and unity.
BATTLE OF LUTZEN—DEATH OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.
“At last the fateful morning dawned, but an impenetrable fog, which spread over the plain, delayed the attack till noon.… ‘God with us!’ was the war cry of the Swedes; ‘Jesus Maria!’ that of the Imperialists. About eleven the fog began to disperse, and the enemy became visible. At the same moment Lutzen was seen in flames, having been set on fire by command of the duke, to prevent his being outflanked on that side. The charge was now sounded; the cavalry rushed upon the enemy, and the infantry advanced against the trenches.
“Received by a tremendous fire of musketry and heavy artillery, these intrepid battalions maintained the attack with undaunted courage, till the enemy’s musketeers abandoned their posts, the trenches were passed, the battery carried and turned against the enemy. They pressed forward with irresistible impetuosity; the first of the five imperial brigades was immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to flight. But here the genius of Wallenstein opposed itself to their progress. With the rapidity of lightning he was on the spot to rally his discomfited troops; and his powerful word was itself sufficient to stop the flight of the fugitives. Supported by three regiments of cavalry, the vanquished brigades, forming anew, faced the enemy, and pressed vigorously into the broken ranks of the Swedes. A murderous conflict ensued.… In the meantime the king’s right wing, led by himself, had fallen upon the enemy’s left. The first impetuous shock of the heavy Finland cuirassiers dispersed the lightly mounted Poles and Croats, who were posted here, and their disorderly flight spread terror and confusion among the rest of the cavalry. At this moment notice was brought to the king, that his infantry was retreating over the trenches, and also that his left wing, exposed to a severe fire from the enemy’s cannon posted at the windmills, was beginning to give way. With rapid decision he committed to General Horn the pursuit of the enemy’s left, while he flew, at the head of the regiment of Steinback, to repair the disorder of his right wing. His noble charger bore him with the velocity of lightning across the trenches, but the squadrons that followed could not come on with the same speed, and only a few horsemen, among whom was Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenberg, were able to keep up with the king. He rode directly to the place where his infantry were most closely pressed, and while he was reconnoitering the enemy’s line for an exposed point to attack, the shortness of his sight unfortunately led him too close to their ranks. An imperial Gefreyter, remarking that every one respectfully made way for him as he rode along, immediately ordered a musketeer to take aim at him. ‘Fire at him yonder,’ said he, ‘that must be a man of consequence.’ The soldier fired, and the king’s left arm was shattered. At that moment his squadron came hurrying up, and a confused cry of ‘the king bleeds! the king is shot!’ spread terror and consternation through all the ranks. ‘It is nothing, follow me,’ cried the king, collecting his whole strength; but overcome by pain, and nearly fainting, he requested the Duke of Lauenberg, in French, to lead him unobserved out of the tumult. While the duke proceeded toward the right wing with the king, to keep this discouraging sight from the disordered infantry, his majesty received a second shot through the back, which deprived him of his remaining strength. ‘Brother,’ said he, with a dying voice, ‘I have enough! look only to your own life.’ At the same moment he fell from his horse, pierced by several more shots; and abandoned by all his attendants, he breathed his last amidst the plundering bands of the Croats. His charger flying without its rider, and covered with blood, soon made known to the Swedish cavalry the fall of their king. They rushed madly forward to rescue his sacred remains from the hands of the enemy. A murderous conflict ensued over the body, till his mangled remains were buried beneath a heap of slain. Bernard, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, gave to the bereaved Swedes a noble leader in his own person; and the spirit of Gustavus led his victorious squadrons anew.
“The sun was setting when the two lines closed. The strife grew hotter as it drew to an end; the last efforts of strength were mutually exerted, and skill and courage did their utmost to repair in these precious moments the fortune of the day. It was in vain; despair endows every one with superhuman strength; no one can conquer, no one will give way. The art of war seemed to exhaust its powers on one side, only to unfold some new and untried masterpiece of skill on the other. Night and darkness at last put an end to the fight, before the fury of the combatants was exhausted; and the contest only ceased, when no one could any longer find an antagonist. Both armies separated, as if by tacit agreement; the trumpets sounded, and each party claiming the victory, quitted the field.”
[End of German History.]
