King Gustaf Adolf, with his army of Swedes and Finns, stood on German soil to protect the holiest and highest things in life—Liberty and Faith.
Tilly, the terrible old corporal, had invaded Saxony, and the king pursued him. Twice had they met; the tiger had challenged the lion to the combat, but the latter would not move. Now for the third time they faced each other; the crushing blow must fall, and the fate of Germany trembled in the balance.
At dawn the Swedes and Saxons crossed the Loder, and placed themselves in battle array at the village of Breitenfeld.
The king rode along the lines, and inspected everything. His eye beamed with delight on these brave men; the left wing was composed of Gustave Horn's cavalry, Teuffel was in the centre, and Torstensson with his leathern cannon in front. The Livonians and Hepburn's Scots were both in the second line.
The king commanded the right wing, composed of several regiments of cavalry and the Finns.
"Stälhandske," said he, checking his large steed at the last Finnish division, "I suppose you understand why you are here. Pappenheim is opposite, and longs to make your acquaintance," he added smiling, "and I expect a vigorous attack from that quarter. I rely upon you Finns to receive him right royally."
The king then raised his voice and said,
"Boys, do not blunt your swords upon those iron-clad fellows, but first tackle the horses, and then you will have light work with the riders."
The Finns were proud of their danger and the honour of their position. The king inspired all with courage and self-reliance. But these short, sturdy fellows on their small horses seemed unequal to the onset of the big Wallachians upon their strong and heavy chargers. Tilly held the same opinion.
"Ride them down," he said, "and horse and man will fall powerless under the heels of your steeds." But Tilly did not know his foes. The outer bearing of the Finns was deceptive. Their iron muscles and calm courage, with the hardihood of their horses, gave them a decided advantage over their enemies.