With the same promptness with which he had brought his brother-in-law of Brandenburg to terms, Gustavus forced the hand of the Elector of Saxony, who now overcame his scruples and sent him the needed reinforcements. An imperial army of forty thousand men, under the command of an Italian adventurer named Torquato Conti, had been sent against him, immediately on his landing in Pomerania, but no battle had been fought, and beyond laying waste the country the Imperialists had so far accomplished nothing. The emperor, who had predicted that "the Snow-king would melt under the rays of the Imperial sun," became alarmed at his successes and selected Tilly to stay his southward advance. This able and experienced general promptly assumed the command of the forces of the Catholic League, and in order to strike terror into the hearts of the Protestant princes, sacked and pillaged the city of Magdeburg in Lower Saxony, giving it over without restraint to devastation and ruin by the brutal soldiery. The horrors which were here enacted beggar description, and leave a hideous stain upon the page of history. Tilly himself, in announcing his success to the emperor, wrote: "Since the destruction of Troy and Jerusalem never has such a siege been seen."
Gustavus had, indeed, come too late to relieve Magdeburg, but the report of the unspeakable atrocities which that unhappy city had witnessed, fired his generous heart with wrath and an eager determination to punish a general so devoid of humanity. And the opportunity was soon to present itself. Advancing rapidly into Saxony, he met Tilly on the plains of Breitenfeld, near Leipsic, September 7, 1631; and not only defeated him, but utterly annihilated his army, scattering it like dust before the storm. He was now, until a new army could be raised, master of all Germany. Nothing apparently could have hindered him from marching on Vienna and dictating to the emperor his own terms of peace. It has been and is yet a matter of speculation, why Gustavus did not relentlessly follow up the results of this great victory, instead of going into winter quarters and affording Ferdinand and the discomfited princes of the League a chance of recovering from their utter demoralization. The answer is, no doubt, that he did not feel himself strong enough to lay siege to Vienna, without covering his rear and securing his base of supplies. He had always, like the good general he was, been careful to keep open a possible line of retreat. For the moment he was indeed irresistible. At Merseburg two thousand Imperialists were cut to pieces. Cities opened their gates to receive him. The Protestant population, in their ecstacy at his victories, were ready to worship him as a demigod. Proceeding southward to Nuremberg and Munich, he was met again by Tilly at the river Lech, where a brief battle was fought; Gustavus was again victorious and Tilly lost his life. This feat of crossing the Lech in the face of a hostile force is by military experts regarded as the greatest strategic feat of Gustavus.
In the meanwhile the emperor had not been idle. There was but one man whose name was potent enough to summon an army adequate for so perilous a situation; and that man was Albrecht von Wallenstein. He was himself, too, fully aware of his preciousness and the terms which he exacted of Ferdinand were hard, not to say extortionate. Ferdinand II., however, had no choice but to accept them. It was not long before Gustavus became aware that Wallenstein, with an army which seemed to have risen out of the ground, was moving in his rear, resolved, apparently, to cut him off from his communication with Sweden. He had no alternative then but to return northward to face this new enemy. On the field of Lutzen in Saxony they met November 6, 1632. A thick mist covered the battle-field, and both armies tarried with the attack in the hope that it would lift. Toward noon, however, Gustavus made a brief address to his soldiers and knelt in prayer before them, whereupon all sang Luther's hymn, "Our God he is a fortress strong." Then the signal was given for the attack. The army of Gustavus, including his German allies, numbered from twenty to twenty-five thousand, and the Imperialists about thirty thousand. The king, who suffered from an imperfectly healed wound which he had received in the Polish war, found it painful to wear a cuirass; and on the morning of the day of Lutzen refused to put it on. "God is my armor," he said, and mounted his horse.
It was this sublime confidence in divine Providence which led him perhaps to expose himself overmuch. He led the attack in person. Before the battle was far advanced, a report reached him that his left wing was wavering. With prompt resolution he started across the field, but, mistaking the direction in the fog, found himself in the midst of a detachment of imperial cuirassiers. A pistol shot pierced his arm; but he still pressed on. Growing faint from pain and loss of blood, he turned to one of the German princes who accompanied him and said: "Cousin, lead me out of this tumult; for I am hurt."
But scarcely had he spoken, when a second shot hit him between the shoulders and he fell from his horse, dead.
The rumor instantly spread through the Swedish army that the king had been taken prisoner. The troops rushed like an avalanche upon the Imperialists, who wavered and gave way. In the end the victory was claimed by both sides, the advantage remaining however with the Swedes.
Gustavus Adolphus was a man of handsome appearance, tall of stature, and of most impressive presence. He was hot-tempered; but at the same time kindly, generous, and affable. He possessed all the qualities required of a military leader, and has justly been accounted one of the world's greatest generals. He was thirty-eight years old at the time of his death. Having no son, he was succeeded on the Swedish throne by his daughter Christina.[Back to Contents]
Footnote 1: Copyright, 1894, by Selmar Hess.[Back to Main Text]