Before leaving Sweden, Gustavus II. convoked the representatives of his people, holding on his arm his little daughter Christine, four years old, for whom he asked their pledge of allegiance. His farewell speech was touching in its simplicity and the premonition of his tragic end. Not for worldly glory, but to save his country from peril and his brethren from distress, he undertook this risky war. “Generally,” he said, “it happens thus that the vessel hauls water until it goes to pieces. With me likewise, that I, who in so many perils for the weal of my country have shed my blood, and yet until this day have been spared through the grace of God, now at last must lose my life. For that reason I will this time commend you, the collected Estates of the realm, to the hand of God, the Supreme One, wishing that we, after this our miserable and burdensome life, according to the will of God, may meet again, to dwell in the celestial and infinite.” These words do not resemble the terse, striking speeches of his grandfather, but they bear the stamp of sincerity, and by them Gustavus Adolphus, his work and his purpose, are judged by the Swedish people.
Midsummer Day, 1630, Gustavus Adolphus landed with his troops at the island of Ruden, on the coast of Pomerania. Two days later he proceeded to the larger island of Usedom. His troops consisted of 13,000 men. Gustavus Adolphus was himself the first to land. He knelt on the shore and prayed to God in a loud voice; his prayer moved those surrounding him to tears. When the king noticed it he said: “Do not cry, but pray to God with fervor. The more of prayer, the more of victory; the best Christian is the best soldier.” Then he took hold of a spade and commenced to assist personally in the work of building a camp. When it grew dark, the heavens were illuminated by the fire of burning villages, giving evidence of the manner in which the enemy conducted his warfare.
The supercilious Wallenstein had been dismissed by the emperor at the time when Gustavus Adolphus landed in Germany, but his wild hordes were pillaging Pomerania. Yet Gustavus Adolphus had great difficulty in persuading the old duke of Pomerania to accept the alliance he offered him. But when this was done, it took the Swedes only a short time to clear the duchy of its enemies. The young landgrave of Hesse and the free city of Magdeburg were glad to accept an alliance with Gustavus Adolphus. A treaty was made with France, which country promised to pay subsidies to Sweden as long as the German war lasted. Tilly, who was in command of the imperial troops, approached Magdeburg. Gustavus Adolphus sent proper provisions to Magdeburg with an experienced commander, as he could not go himself, because the elector of Saxony refused to let him pass with his army through Saxon territory. Magdeburg was captured by Tilly, who sacked and destroyed it by fire in a most barbarous way.
The discipline and moderation of the Swedish troops formed a great contrast to the reckless behavior of the imperial army. The Swedes left the peaceful inhabitants in undisturbed possession of their lives and property; the strictest order was maintained within the army; each regiment held morning and evening prayers in the open air; gambling, carousing and plundering were sternly prohibited. For these reasons the Swedish king and his army were received by the poor downtrodden people as saviors and liberators. Gustavus Adolphus deeply mourned the fall of Magdeburg, whose fate it had not been in his power to prevent. He took a fortified position at Werben, where the river Havel is joined by the Ube. Tilly entered Saxony with a hostile demeanor, not satisfied with the lukewarm friendship of the elector. Burning villages marked the way of his army. The poor elector, not knowing what to do, in his despair turned to Gustavus Adolphus, whom he had treated so coldly and begged him for help. The king at once was ready to forget past differences, and, joining forces with the elector, he marched toward Leipsic.
Tilly, with 35,000 men, occupied an advantageous position near the village of Breitenfeld, not far from Leipsic, at the summit of a long ridge of sandy hills. The infantry and the greater part of the cavalry were grouped in heavy divisions, forming one single line of battle with artillery behind at the very top of the hills. Tilly himself commanded the centre, while his able and fiery sub-commander, Pappenheim, had the command of the left wing, being in hopes to encounter the Swedish king personally. The Swedish army consisted of 22,000 men, who were joined by 11,000 Saxons.
Early in the morning of September 7, 1631, the Swedes started toward Breitenfeld. Tilly turned pale, it is said, when he saw the order and firmness with which the Swedes marched up to take their positions on the narrow slips of ground between the Lober brook and the reach of the imperial cannon. The Swedes were arranged in a double line of battle, infantry in the centre and cavalry on the wings. Between the squadrons of cavalry divisions of musketeers were placed. The regimental artillery was distributed over a number of places. The king commanded the right wing in person, with John Banér as sub-commander. Teuffel led the centre and Gustavus Horn the left wing. The king had no confidence in the Saxons, for which reason he had arranged them by themselves at some distance to the left of the Swedish army. When everything was arranged, the king rode to the front. With his head uncovered, and his sword pointing to the ground, he prayed: “Almighty God, thou who holdest victory and defeat in the hollow of thy hand, turn thine eyes unto us, thy servants, who have come hither from distant dwellings to fight for liberty and truth, for thy holy Gospel. Give victory unto us for the glory of thy hallowed name! Amen!” The prayer of the king could be heard by almost every man of the army, and all were touched and strengthened by his pious trust in a righteous cause. The Swedes of the right wing were soon attacked by Pappenheim and his cavalry. But the horses of the imperialists were frightened by the flashing fire of the musketeers, and the attack failed to have an effect. It was ended as quickly as it was begun. Pappenheim concluded to make an attempt to surprise the Swedes from the left side. But the king divined his plan. He ordered John Banér with the second line to make a movement by which to turn at an angle with the first and face the attack from the side. Pappenheim was surprised to find a new line facing him. A bloody struggle ensued. Seven times his men made an inroad on the Swedish line and were seven times repulsed, badly damaged by the fire of the musketeers. The Swedes, in their turn, made an attack which scattered Pappenheim’s forces from the field in wild flight.
Tilly had with his light cavalry attacked the left wing of the Swedes. His men were mostly made up of Croats and other semi-barbarous people. When repulsed by the Swedes they concentrated their forces to crush the Saxons. These withstood the first assault, but the second routed them completely. The imperialists then made a second attack upon the left Swedish wing, made up of only 2,500 men. Gustavus Horn acted with coolness and great presence of mind. He let the first line close in on the second till it was able to take a firm stand against the heavy force of the attacking enemy. The Swedes never for a moment lost their position, in spite of the frightful onslaught. The king arrived and remained for some time with the left wing. He ordered the Scotch brigade of hired troops to support him. The Scotch had cannon hidden behind their lines. These had a telling effect upon the attacking imperialists, who were thrown back, suffering great losses. Everywhere the battle was fought with frenzy, the clouds of dust and smoke changing the day into night.
The king made sure that the left wing of the enemy’s army was engaged in continued flight. Then he commenced an attack with his own right wing upon the imperial artillery, which had kept up a steady fire against the Swedish centre. Tilly’s cannon were captured at the first attempt and turned on the imperial troops, causing consternation. Horn opened an attack on his side and the king hastened to support him with his troops. Tilly tried in vain to lead his troops into the battle. Pappenheim had returned and gave brilliant proofs of personal courage. The defeat of the imperial army was unavoidable; it scattered in helpless confusion. Tilly lost his horse and was near being captured himself. Four of his best infantry regiments took a stand and tried to resist the conquering foe. These imperial soldiers, who never had suffered a defeat, preferred death to surrender. Tilly fled at last, followed by only 600 men. After five hours of fighting the Swedes had won a glorious victory. They finished the day with prayer and remained on the battlefield over night, arranged in order of battle. The following morning they entered the deserted camp of the enemy where a rich booty awaited them.
The progress of Gustavus Adolphus along the shores of the river Main to the towns of Frankfort and Mayence was a march of triumph. In capturing Mayence, the Swedes fought the Spanish allies of the emperor. The towns surrendered to violence or by their own consent. Gustavus Adolphus made their inhabitants pledge their fidelity to him and strengthened his power with the rich resources of the Frankish country. Then he turned against Maximilian of Bavaria. Tilly, who was to defend Bavaria, was again encountered and defeated at Lech. He was carried from the battle mortally wounded and died soon afterward. Gustavus Adolphus made his triumphal entry into Munich, with Frederic of the Palatinate at his side. The danger to the crown lands of the emperor was imminent.
Wallenstein was the most famous of German generals. Reticent and secretive, he appeared to be unable to feel mercy. He was devoted to the secret doctrines of astrology, which in him had taken the place of religion. He cared naught for the cause of religious liberty or the fall of the German empire, looking only for occasions to satisfy his own ambition and the means of obtaining power and wealth. He had served the emperor, who had raised him to the dignity of a duke of Mecklenburg, but had been dismissed and deprived of his dignities at the time of the arrival of Gustavus Adolphus on German soil. His downfall was caused by complaints of his insolence and recklessness, made by Maximilian of Bavaria and other German princes. Wallenstein retired to Prague, at the castle of which town he surrounded himself with princely luxury and comfort, scheming for revenge. His plan was to join the enemies of the emperor. He approached Gustavus Adolphus for such purpose, before the battle of Breitenfeld, and was delighted to hear of the defeat of Tilly. Gustavus Adolphus seemed at first inclined to take up relations with Wallenstein, but at the point where an agreement was to be made he suddenly changed his attitude. The king probably hesitated to accept the services of a man who had no other aim than to satisfy his own ambition. The emperor was placed in a bad predicament, at the second defeat of Tilly, for want of an army to defend his lands and a commander to lead it. There was only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to pacify the mortally offended Wallenstein, and to persuade him to re-enter the service of the emperor. The emperor resigned himself to accept this humiliating condition, and Wallenstein agreed to resume command, but only at a high price. The name of Wallenstein was enough to bring thousands of warriors under the imperial banners, and Wallenstein was soon at the head of an army of sufficient proportions. His doctrine was that “the war should support itself,” according to which his soldiers were allowed to sack and plunder at will the countries through which they were passing. He cared naught for the recklessness of his subordinates, if they only showed blind obedience to him.