[4]. I have used Geijer's "History of the Swedes" as authority as to what occurred that dreadful day—November 6th, 1632.
Since his wound at Dirschau he had not used armor. When his page brought his accoutrements that morning, he said, "God is my harness." He mounted his horse without taking any refreshments. He rode along the entire army, saluting and cheering his officers. When he came to the Swedes and Finns, he said: "Dear friends and countrymen, this day the moment is come to show what you have learned in so many combats. There is the foe, not on a mountain, not behind walls, but on a clear field. How this enemy hath heretofore shunned the open field ye well know, and that he lets it now come to battle proceeds not from his free will, nor from hope of victory, but because he can no longer escape your arms. Therefore, make yourselves ready, and hold you well as becomes brave soldiers; stand fast by one another, and fight like true knights, for your God, for your Fatherland, and for your king. I will then so reward you all that you may have cause to thank me for it; but if you fight not, not a bone of you shall ever come to Sweden. God preserve you all."
To the Germans he said: "You, my sincere brothers and comrades, I pray and exhort by your Christian conscience and your own honor, now do your duty, as you have done the same with me often before, and especially a year ago not far from this place. Then you beat old Tilly and his army, and I hope that this enemy shall not slip for a better bargain. Go freshly to it. Ye shall not merely fight under me, but with me and beside me. I myself will go before you, and here venture life and blood. If you will follow me, I trust in God that you will win a victory which shall come to good for you and for your descendants. If not, there is an end of your religion, your freedom, your temporal and eternal welfare."
Wallenstein was carried to the army in a litter, as he could not stand on his feet from the gout. He made no remarks to his troops; none were needed. They knew he would reward them in case of victory, and cruelly punish if they failed.
The fog lay heavy on the field, and did not begin to lift until nearly noon. The watchword of the Swedes was, "God with us," while the Imperial forces had the words, "Jesus, Mary." After Gustavus' stirring speeches, all the army answered with a clash of arms and joyous cheers. The king looked up to heaven, "Now will we in God's name onward! Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, may we fight to-day for the honor of Thy Holy Name!" He waved his sword over his head, gave the command, "Forward!"
The Swedes could see that the town of Lutzen was burning, having been set on fire by the Imperial troops at the duke's command, to prevent his troops from being flanked on that side, also to take the heart out of all local troops in the Protestant army. The Swedes sustained the onerous attack, facing a battery with undaunted courage. They passed those terrible trenches with their ice-cold water and carried and turned a battery against their adversaries. The first five Imperial brigades were immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to flight. Just then Wallenstein came in person with fresh troops upon the broken ranks of the Swedes, the fighting was hand to hand, leaving no room to reload, the guns were clubbed, or used as pikes, the Swedes were driven back, the battery recaptured and turned upon them, then in retreat they had again to wade those awful irrigating canals. A thousand of the Protestant army lay dead, and not a foot gained. In the meantime the king commanded the right wing, which fell upon the enemy's left.
The Finnish cuirassiers dispersed the Poles and Croats, who fled, throwing the cavalry into panic and causing death and confusion to the enemy. At this moment word was brought to the king of the disaster to his left wing, which was even then retreating across those terrible ditches.
He called General Horn to take his command and repaired with a splendid regiment to the support of the left wing. His good horse sprang over every ditch just as he came to it, his regiment could not keep up with him, and only a few of his staff kept at his side, among them Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg. He rode to where his infantry were most pressed, and while he was reconnoitering for the point of attack his nearsightedness led him too close to the enemy's line. An Imperial corporal noticing that in every place people gave way for him, called to a sharpshooter, "That is a man of consequence, fire at him!" The soldier fired and the left arm of the king was shattered. At that moment his regiment arrived and a cry of anguish went up, "Our king is shot! The king bleeds!" "Oh, it is nothing," shouted the king, "follow me." He led a short way, then realizing that he would fall, he said in French to the Duke of Lauenburg, "Lead my horse, take me out of the battle. I faint." The duke tried to do this by retiring by the right wing in order to keep this discouraging sight from the infantry. The king was wounded again, this time through the back. He said, "Brother, I have enough! Look now to your own life." At this moment he fell from his horse, which dragged him some distance, literally riddled with shots, and, in some unexplainable way, he was separated from all his attendants except his faithful young page, Lenbelfingen, who was run through the body by a sword thrust.
The king's last audible words were: "I am the king of Sweden. I seal this day with my blood the liberty and religion of the German nation." And that heroic soul ascended to God.
The page, a boy of eighteen, lived long enough to tell the particulars of that sad story. His father took down his words at his dying bedside. It is the only authentic testimony of the crucial half hour of that awful battle.