“The King of Sweden was a new rising sun, who, having been at war with all his neighbors, had wrested from them several provinces; he was young, but of great reputation, and already incensed against the emperor, not so much on account of any real injuries he had received from him as because he was his neighbor. His Majesty had kept an eye upon him with a view of attempting to make use of him in order to draw off, in course of time, the main body of the emperor’s forces, and give him work to do in his own dominions.” [Memoires de Richelieu, t. v. p. 119.] Through Richelieu’s good offices, Gustavus Adolphus had just concluded a long truce with the Poles, with whom he had been for some time at war: the cardinal’s envoy, M. de Charnace, at once made certain propositions to the King of Sweden, promising the aid of France if he would take up the cause of the German princes; but Gustavus turned a cold ear to these overtures, “not seeing in any quarter any great encouragement to undertake the war, either in England, peace with the Spaniards being there as good as determined upon, or in Holland, for the same reason, or in the Hanseatic towns, which were all exhausted of wealth, or in Denmark, which had lost heart and was daily disarming, or in France, whence he got not a word on which he could place certain reliance.” The emperor, on his side, was seeking to make peace with Sweden, “and the people of that country were not disinclined to listen to him.”
God, for the accomplishment of his will, sets at nought the designs and intentions of men. Gustavus Adolphus was the instrument chosen by Providence to finish the work of Henry IV. and Richelieu. Negotiations continued to be carried on between the two parties, but, before his alliance with France was concluded, the King of Sweden, taking a sudden resolution, set out for Germany, on the 30th of May, 1630, with fifteen thousand men, “having told Charnace that he would not continue the war beyond that year, if he did not agree upon terms of treaty with the king; so much does passion blind us,” adds the cardinal, “that he thought it to be in his power to put an end to so great a war as that, just as it had been in his power to commence it.”
By this time Gustavus Adolphus was in Pomerania, the duke whereof, maltreated by the emperor, admitted him on the 10th of July into Stettin, after a show of resistance. The Imperialists, in their fury, put to a cruel death all the inhabitants of the said city who happened to be in their hands, and gave up all its territory to fire and sword. “The King of Sweden, on the contrary, had his army in such discipline, that it seemed as if every one of them were living at home, and not amongst strangers; for in the actions of this king there was nothing to be seen but inexorable severity towards the smallest excesses on the part of his men, extraordinary gentleness towards the populations, and strict justice on every occasion, all which conciliated the affections of all, and so much the more in that the emperor’s army, unruly, insolent, disobedient to its leaders, and full of outrage against the people, made their enemy’s virtues shine forth the brighter.” [Memoires de Richelieu, t. vi. p. 419.]
Gustavus Adolphus had left Sweden under the impulse of love for those glorious enterprises which make great generals, but still more of a desire to maintain the Protestant cause, which he regarded as that of God. He had assembled the estates of Sweden in the castle of Stockholm, presenting to them his daughter Christina, four years old, whom he confided to their faithful care. “I have hopes,” he said to them, “of ending by bringing triumph to the cause of the oppressed; but, as the pitcher that goes often to the well gets broken, so I fear it may be my fate. I who have exposed my life amidst so many dangers, who have so often spilt my blood for the country, without, thanks to God, having been wounded to death, must in the end make a sacrifice of myself; for that reason I bid you farewell, hoping to see you again in a better world.” He continued advancing into Germany. “This snow king will go on melting as he comes south,” said the emperor, Ferdinand, on hearing that Gustavus Adolphus had disembarked; but Mecklenburg was already in his hands, and the Elector of Brandenburg had just declared in his favor: he everywhere made proclamation, “that the inhabitants were to come forward and join him to take the part of their princes, whom he was coming to replace in possession.” He was investing all parts of Austria, whose hereditary dominions he had not yet attacked; it was in the name of the empire that he fought against the emperor.
The diet was terminating at Ratisbonne, and it had just struck a fatal blow at the imperial cause. The electors, Catholic and Protestant, jealous of the power as well as of the glory of the celebrated Wallenstein, creator and commander-in-chief of the emperor’s army, who had made him Duke of Friedland, and endowed him with the duchies of Mecklenburg, had obliged Ferdinand II. to withdraw from him the command of the forces. At this price he had hoped to obtain their votes to designate his son King of the Romans; the first step towards hereditary empire had failed, thanks to the ability of Father Joseph. “This poor Capuchin has disarmed me with his chaplet,” said the emperor, “and for all that his cowl is so narrow he has managed to get six electoral hats into it.” The treaty he had concluded, disavowed by France, did not for an instant hinder the progress of the King of Sweden; and the cardinal lost no time in letting him know that “the king’s intention was in no wise to abandon him, but to assist him more than ever, insomuch as he deemed it absolutely necessary in order to thwart the designs of those who had no end in view but their own augmentation, to the prejudice of all the other princes of Europe.” On the 25th of January, 1631, at Bernwald, the treaty of alliance between France and Sweden was finally signed. Baron Charnace had inserted in the draft of the treaty the term protection as between France and Gustavus Adolphus. “Our master asks for no protection but that of Heaven,” said the Swedish plenipotentiaries; “after God, his Majesty holds himself indebted only to his sword and his wisdom for any advantages he may gain.” Charnace did not insist; and the victories of Gustavus Adolphus were an answer to any difficulties.
The King of Sweden bound himself to furnish soldiers,—thirty thousand men at the least; France was to pay, by way of subsidy, four hundred thousand crowns a year, and to give a hundred thousand crowns to cover past expenses. Gustavus Adolphus promised to maintain the existing religion in such countries as he might conquer, “though he said, laughingly, that there was no possibility of promising about that, except in the fashion of him who sold the bear’s skin;” he likewise guaranteed neutrality to the princes of the Catholic league, provided that they observed it towards him. The treaty was made public at once, through the exertions of Gustavus Adolphus, though Cardinal Richelieu had charged Charnace to keep it secret for a time.
Torquato Conti, one of the emperor’s generals, who had taken Wallenstein’s place, wished to break off warfare during the long frosts. “My men do not recognize winter,” answered Gustavus Adolphus. “This prince, who did not take to war as a pastime, but made it in order to conquer,” marched with giant strides across Germany, reducing everything as he went. He had arrived, by the end of April, before Frankfurt-on-the Oder, which he took; and he was preparing to succor Magdeburg, which had early pronounced for him, and which Tilly, the emperor’s general, kept besieged. The Elector of Saxony hesitated to take sides; he refused Gustavus Adolphus a passage over the bridge of Dessau, on the Elbe. On the 20th of May Magdeburg fell, and Tilly gave over the place to the soldiery; thirty thousand persons were massacred, and the houses committed to the flames. “Nothing like it has been seen since the taking of Troy and of Jerusalem,” said Tilly in his savage joy. The Protestant princes, who had just been reconstituting the Evangelical Union, in the diet they had held in February at Leipzig, revolted openly, ordering levies of soldiers to protect their territories; the Catholic League, renouncing neutrality, flew to arms on their side; the question became nothing less than that of restoring to the Protestants all that had been granted them by the peace of Passau. The soldiery of Tilly were already let loose on electoral Saxony; the elector, constrained by necessity, intrusted his soldiers to Gustavus Adolphus, who had just received re-enforcements from Sweden, and the king marched against Tilly, still encamped before Leipzig, which he had forced to capitulate.
The Saxons gave way at the first shock of the imperial troops, but the King of Sweden had dashed forward, and nothing could withstand him; Tilly himself, hitherto proof against lead and steel, fell wounded in three places; five thousand dead were left on the field of battle; and Gustavus Adolphus dragged at his heels seven thousand prisoners. “Never did the grace of God pull me out of so bad a scrape,” said the conqueror. He halted some time at Mayence, which had just opened its gates to him. Axel Oxenstiern, his most faithful servant and oldest friend, whose intimacy with his royal master reminds one of that between Henry IV. and Sully, came to join him in Germany; he had hitherto been commissioned to hold the government of the conquests won from the Poles. He did not approve of the tactics of Gustavus Adolphus, who was attacking the Catholic League, and meanwhile leaving to the Elector of Saxony the charge of carrying the war into the hereditary dominions of Austria. . . . “Sir,” said he, “I should have liked to offer you my felicitations on your victories, not at Mayence, but at Vienna.” “If, after the battle of Leipzig, the King of Sweden had gone straight to attack the emperor in his hereditary provinces, it had been all over with the house of Austria,” says Cardinal Richelieu; “but either God did not will the certain destruction of that house, which would perhaps have been too prejudicial to the Catholic religion, and he turned him aside from the counsel which would have been more advantageous for him to take, or the same God, who giveth not all to any, but distributeth his gifts diversely to each, had given to this king, as to Hannibal, the knowledge how to conquer, but not how to use victory.”