The Emperor's authoritative and direct interference with the army,
soon convinced the Duke that the compact with himself
was regarded as at an end, and that his dismissal was inevitable.
One of his inferior generals in Austria, whom he had forbidden,
under pain of death, to obey the orders of the court,
received the positive commands of the Emperor to join the Elector of Bavaria;
and Wallenstein himself was imperiously ordered to send some regiments to
reinforce the army of the Cardinal Infante, who was on his march from Italy.
All these measures convinced him that the plan was finally arranged
to disarm him by degrees, and at once, when he was weak and defenceless,
to complete his ruin.

In self-defence, must he now hasten to carry into execution the plans
which he had originally formed only with the view to aggrandizement.
He had delayed too long, either because the favourable configuration
of the stars had not yet presented itself, or, as he used to say,
to check the impatience of his friends, because THE TIME WAS NOT YET COME.
The time, even now, was not come:  but the pressure of circumstances
no longer allowed him to await the favour of the stars.  The first step
was to assure himself of the sentiments of his principal officers,
and then to try the attachment of the army, which he had so long
confidently reckoned on.  Three of them, Colonels Kinsky, Terzky, and Illo,
had long been in his secrets, and the two first were further united
to his interests by the ties of relationship.  The same wild ambition,
the same bitter hatred of the government, and the hope of enormous rewards,
bound them in the closest manner to Wallenstein, who,
to increase the number of his adherents, could stoop to the lowest means.
He had once advised Colonel Illo to solicit, in Vienna, the title of Count,
and had promised to back his application with his powerful mediation.
But he secretly wrote to the ministry, advising them to refuse his request,
as to grant it would give rise to similar demands from others,
whose services and claims were equal to his.  On Illo's return to the camp,
Wallenstein immediately demanded to know the success of his mission;
and when informed by Illo of its failure, he broke out
into the bitterest complaints against the court.  "Thus," said he,
"are our faithful services rewarded.  My recommendation is disregarded,
and your merit denied so trifling a reward!  Who would any longer
devote his services to so ungrateful a master?  No, for my part,
I am henceforth the determined foe of Austria."  Illo agreed with him,
and a close alliance was cemented between them.

But what was known to these three confidants of the duke,
was long an impenetrable secret to the rest; and the confidence with which
Wallenstein spoke of the devotion of his officers, was founded merely
on the favours he had lavished on them, and on their known dissatisfaction
with the Court.  But this vague presumption must be converted into certainty,
before he could venture to lay aside the mask, or take any open step
against the Emperor.  Count Piccolomini, who had distinguished himself
by his unparalleled bravery at Lutzen, was the first whose fidelity
he put to the proof.  He had, he thought, gained the attachment
of this general by large presents, and preferred him to all others,
because born under the same constellations with himself.
He disclosed to him, that, in consequence of the Emperor's ingratitude,
and the near approach of his own danger, he had irrevocably determined
entirely to abandon the party of Austria, to join the enemy
with the best part of his army, and to make war upon the House of Austria,
on all sides of its dominions, till he had wholly extirpated it.
In the execution of this plan, he principally reckoned on the services
of Piccolomini, and had beforehand promised him the greatest rewards.
When the latter, to conceal his amazement at this extraordinary communication,
spoke of the dangers and obstacles which would oppose so hazardous
an enterprise, Wallenstein ridiculed his fears.  "In such enterprises,"
he maintained, "nothing was difficult but the commencement.  The stars were
propitious to him, the opportunity the best that could be wished for,
and something must always be trusted to fortune.  His resolution was taken,
and if it could not be otherwise, he would encounter the hazard
at the head of a thousand horse."  Piccolomini was careful not to excite
Wallenstein's suspicions by longer opposition, and yielded apparently
to the force of his reasoning.  Such was the infatuation of the Duke,
that notwithstanding the warnings of Count Terzky, he never doubted
the sincerity of this man, who lost not a moment in communicating
to the court at Vienna this important conversation.

Preparatory to taking the last decisive step, he, in January 1634,
called a meeting of all the commanders of the army at Pilsen,
whither he had marched after his retreat from Bavaria.  The Emperor's
recent orders to spare his hereditary dominions from winter quarterings,
to recover Ratisbon in the middle of winter, and to reduce the army
by a detachment of six thousand horse to the Cardinal Infante,
were matters sufficiently grave to be laid before a council of war;
and this plausible pretext served to conceal from the curious the real object
of the meeting.  Sweden and Saxony received invitations to be present,
in order to treat with the Duke of Friedland for a peace; to the leaders
of more distant armies, written communications were made.  Of the commanders
thus summoned, twenty appeared; but three most influential, Gallas, Colloredo,
and Altringer, were absent.  The Duke reiterated his summons to them,
and in the mean time, in expectation of their speedy arrival,
proceeded to execute his designs.

It was no light task that he had to perform:  a nobleman,
proud, brave, and jealous of his honour, was to declare himself capable
of the basest treachery, in the very presence of those who had been accustomed
to regard him as the representative of majesty, the judge of their actions,
and the supporter of their laws, and to show himself suddenly
as a traitor, a cheat, and a rebel.  It was no easy task, either,
to shake to its foundations a legitimate sovereignty, strengthened by time
and consecrated by laws and religion; to dissolve all the charms
of the senses and the imagination, those formidable guardians
of an established throne, and to attempt forcibly to uproot
those invincible feelings of duty, which plead so loudly and so powerfully
in the breast of the subject, in favour of his sovereign.  But,
blinded by the splendour of a crown, Wallenstein observed not the precipice
that yawned beneath his feet; and in full reliance on his own strength,
the common case with energetic and daring minds, he stopped not to consider
the magnitude and the number of the difficulties that opposed him.
Wallenstein saw nothing but an army, partly indifferent and partly
exasperated against the court, accustomed, with a blind submission,
to do homage to his great name, to bow to him as their legislator and judge,
and with trembling reverence to follow his orders as the decrees of fate.
In the extravagant flatteries which were paid to his omnipotence,
in the bold abuse of the court government, in which
a lawless soldiery indulged, and which the wild licence of the camp excused,
he thought he read the sentiments of the army; and the boldness with which
they were ready to censure the monarch's measures, passed with him
for a readiness to renounce their allegiance to a sovereign
so little respected.  But that which he had regarded as the lightest matter,
proved the most formidable obstacle with which he had to contend;
the soldiers' feelings of allegiance were the rock on which his hopes
were wrecked.  Deceived by the profound respect in which he was held
by these lawless bands, he ascribed the whole to his own personal greatness,
without distinguishing how much he owed to himself, and how much
to the dignity with which he was invested.  All trembled before him,
while he exercised a legitimate authority, while obedience to him was a duty,
and while his consequence was supported by the majesty of the sovereign.
Greatness, in and of itself, may excite terror and admiration;
but legitimate greatness alone can inspire reverence and submission;
and of this decisive advantage he deprived himself, the instant
he avowed himself a traitor.

Field-Marshal Illo undertook to learn the sentiments of the officers,
and to prepare them for the step which was expected of them.
He began by laying before them the new orders of the court to the general
and the army; and by the obnoxious turn he skilfully gave to them,
he found it easy to excite the indignation of the assembly.
After this well chosen introduction, he expatiated with much eloquence
upon the merits of the army and the general, and the ingratitude with which
the Emperor was accustomed to requite them.  "Spanish influence,"
he maintained, "governed the court; the ministry were in the pay of Spain;
the Duke of Friedland alone had hitherto opposed this tyranny,
and had thus drawn down upon himself the deadly enmity of the Spaniards.
To remove him from the command, or to make away with him entirely,"
he continued, "had long been the end of their desires;
and, until they could succeed in one or other, they endeavoured
to abridge his power in the field.  The command was to be placed
in the hands of the King of Hungary, for no other reason
than the better to promote the Spanish power in Germany;
because this prince, as the ready instrument of foreign counsels,
might be led at pleasure.  It was merely with the view of weakening the army,
that the six thousand troops were required for the Cardinal Infante;
it was solely for the purpose of harassing it by a winter campaign,
that they were now called on, in this inhospitable season,
to undertake the recovery of Ratisbon.  The means of subsistence
were everywhere rendered difficult, while the Jesuits and the ministry
enriched themselves with the sweat of the provinces, and squandered the money
intended for the pay of the troops.  The general, abandoned by the court,
acknowledges his inability to keep his engagements to the army.
For all the services which, for two and twenty years,
he had rendered the House of Austria; for all the difficulties
with which he had struggled; for all the treasures of his own,
which he had expended in the imperial service, a second disgraceful dismissal
awaited him.  But he was resolved the matter should not come to this;
he was determined voluntarily to resign the command, before it should be
wrested from his hands; and this," continued the orator, "is what, through me,
he now makes known to his officers.  It was now for them to say
whether it would be advisable to lose such a general.  Let each consider
who was to refund him the sums he had expended in the Emperor's service,
and where he was now to reap the reward of their bravery,
when he who was their evidence removed from the scene."

A universal cry, that they would not allow their general to be taken
from them, interrupted the speaker.  Four of the principal officers
were deputed to lay before him the wish of the assembly,
and earnestly to request that he would not leave the army.
The duke made a show of resistance, and only yielded
after the second deputation.  This concession on his side,
seemed to demand a return on theirs; as he engaged not to quit the service
without the knowledge and consent of the generals, he required of them,
on the other hand, a written promise to truly and firmly adhere to him,
neither to separate nor to allow themselves to be separated from him,
and to shed their last drop of blood in his defence.  Whoever should break
this covenant, was to be regarded as a perfidious traitor,
and treated by the rest as a common enemy.  The express condition
which was added, "AS LONG AS WALLENSTEIN SHALL EMPLOY THE ARMY
IN THE EMPEROR'S SERVICE," seemed to exclude all misconception,
and none of the assembled generals hesitated at once to accede to a demand,
apparently so innocent and so reasonable.

This document was publicly read before an entertainment,
which Field-Marshal Illo had expressly prepared for the purpose;
it was to be signed, after they rose from table.  The host did his utmost
to stupify his guests by strong potations; and it was not until he saw them
affected with the wine, that he produced the paper for signature.
Most of them wrote their names, without knowing what they were subscribing;
a few only, more curious or more distrustful, read the paper over again,
and discovered with astonishment that the clause "as long as Wallenstein
shall employ the army for the Emperor's service" was omitted.  Illo had,
in fact, artfully contrived to substitute for the first another copy,
in which these words were wanting.  The trick was manifest,
and many refused now to sign.  Piccolomini, who had seen through
the whole cheat, and had been present at this scene merely with the view
of giving information of the whole to the court, forgot himself so far
in his cups as to drink the Emperor's health.  But Count Terzky now rose,
and declared that all were perjured villains who should recede
from their engagement.  His menaces, the idea of the inevitable danger
to which they who resisted any longer would be exposed,
the example of the rest, and Illo's rhetoric, at last overcame their scruples;
and the paper was signed by all without exception.

Wallenstein had now effected his purpose; but the unexpected resistance
he had met with from the commanders roused him at last from the fond illusions
in which he had hitherto indulged.  Besides, most of the names
were scrawled so illegibly, that some deceit was evidently intended.
But instead of being recalled to his discretion by this warning,
he gave vent to his injured pride in undignified complaints and reproaches.
He assembled the generals the next day, and undertook personally to confirm
the whole tenor of the agreement which Illo had submitted to them
the day before.  After pouring out the bitterest reproaches and abuse
against the court, he reminded them of their opposition to the proposition
of the previous day, and declared that this circumstance had induced him
to retract his own promise.  The generals withdrew in silence and confusion;
but after a short consultation in the antichamber, they returned
to apologize for their late conduct, and offered to sign the paper anew.

Nothing now remained, but to obtain a similar assurance
from the absent generals, or, on their refusal, to seize their persons.
Wallenstein renewed his invitation to them, and earnestly urged them
to hasten their arrival.  But a rumour of the doings at Pilsen
reached them on their journey, and suddenly stopped their further progress.
Altringer, on pretence of sickness, remained in the strong fortress
of Frauenberg.  Gallas made his appearance, but merely with the design
of better qualifying himself as an eyewitness, to keep the Emperor
informed of all Wallenstein's proceedings.  The intelligence
which he and Piccolomini gave, at once converted the suspicions of the court
into an alarming certainty.  Similar disclosures, which were
at the same time made from other quarters, left no room for farther doubt;
and the sudden change of the commanders in Austria and Silesia,
appeared to be the prelude to some important enterprise.
The danger was pressing, and the remedy must be speedy, but the court
was unwilling to proceed at once to the execution of the sentence,
till the regular forms of justice were complied with.  Secret instructions
were therefore issued to the principal officers, on whose fidelity
reliance could be placed, to seize the persons of the Duke of Friedland and
of his two associates, Illo and Terzky, and keep them in close confinement,
till they should have an opportunity of being heard, and of answering
for their conduct; but if this could not be accomplished quietly,
the public danger required that they should be taken dead or live.
At the same time, General Gallas received a patent commission, by which
these orders of the Emperor were made known to the colonels and officers,
and the army was released from its obedience to the traitor,
and placed under Lieutenant-General Gallas, till a new generalissimo
could be appointed.  In order to bring back the seduced and deluded
to their duty, and not to drive the guilty to despair, a general amnesty
was proclaimed, in regard to all offences against the imperial majesty
committed at Pilsen.

General Gallas was not pleased with the honour which was done him.
He was at Pilsen, under the eye of the person whose fate he was to dispose of;
in the power of an enemy, who had a hundred eyes to watch his motions.
If Wallenstein once discovered the secret of his commission,
nothing could save him from the effects of his vengeance and despair.
But if it was thus dangerous to be the secret depositary of such a commission,
how much more so to execute it?  The sentiments of the generals
were uncertain; and it was at least doubtful whether, after the step
they had taken, they would be ready to trust the Emperor's promises,
and at once to abandon the brilliant expectations they had built
upon Wallenstein's enterprise.  It was also hazardous to attempt to lay hands
on the person of a man who, till now, had been considered inviolable;
who from long exercise of supreme power, and from habitual obedience,
had become the object of deepest respect; who was invested with
every attribute of outward majesty and inward greatness; whose very aspect
inspired terror, and who by a nod disposed of life and death!
To seize such a man, like a common criminal, in the midst of the guards
by whom he was surrounded, and in a city apparently devoted to him;
to convert the object of this deep and habitual veneration
into a subject of compassion, or of contempt, was a commission calculated
to make even the boldest hesitate.  So deeply was fear and veneration
for their general engraven in the breasts of the soldiers,
that even the atrocious crime of high treason could not wholly eradicate
these sentiments.

Gallas perceived the impossibility of executing his commission
under the eyes of the duke; and his most anxious wish was, before venturing
on any steps, to have an interview with Altringer.  As the long absence
of the latter had already begun to excite the duke's suspicions,
Gallas offered to repair in person to Frauenberg, and to prevail on Altringer,
his relation, to return with him.  Wallenstein was so pleased
with this proof of his zeal, that he even lent him his own equipage
for the journey.  Rejoicing at the success of his stratagem,
he left Pilsen without delay, leaving to Count Piccolomini
the task of watching Wallenstein's further movements.  He did not fail,
as he went along, to make use of the imperial patent, and the sentiments
of the troops proved more favourable than he had expected.
Instead of taking back his friend to Pilsen, he despatched him to Vienna,
to warn the Emperor against the intended attack, while he himself repaired
to Upper Austria, of which the safety was threatened by the near approach
of Duke Bernard.  In Bohemia, the towns of Budweiss and Tabor
were again garrisoned for the Emperor, and every precaution taken
to oppose with energy the designs of the traitor.

As Gallas did not appear disposed to return, Piccolomini determined
to put Wallenstein's credulity once more to the test.  He begged to be sent
to bring back Gallas, and Wallenstein suffered himself a second time
to be overreached.  This inconceivable blindness can only be accounted for
as the result of his pride, which never retracted the opinion
it had once formed of any person, and would not acknowledge, even to itself,
the possibility of being deceived.  He conveyed Count Piccolomini
in his own carriage to Lintz, where the latter immediately followed
the example of Gallas, and even went a step farther.  He had promised the duke
to return.  He did so, but it was at the head of an army,
intending to surprise the duke in Pilsen.  Another army under General Suys
hastened to Prague, to secure that capital in its allegiance,
and to defend it against the rebels.  Gallas, at the same time,
announced himself to the different imperial armies as the commander-in-chief,
from whom they were henceforth to receive orders.  Placards were circulated
through all the imperial camps, denouncing the duke and his four confidants,
and absolving the soldiers from all obedience to him.

The example which had been set at Lintz, was universally followed;
imprecations were showered on the traitor, and he was forsaken
by all the armies.  At last, when even Piccolomini returned no more,
the mist fell from Wallenstein's eyes, and in consternation he awoke
from his dream.  Yet his faith in the truth of astrology,
and in the fidelity of the army was unshaken.  Immediately after
the intelligence of Piccolomini's defection, he issued orders,
that in future no commands were to be obeyed, which did not proceed
directly from himself, or from Terzky, or Illo.  He prepared, in all haste,
to advance upon Prague, where he intended to throw off the mask,
and openly to declare against the Emperor.  All the troops were to assemble
before that city, and from thence to pour down with rapidity upon Austria.
Duke Bernard, who had joined the conspiracy, was to support
the operations of the duke, with the Swedish troops, and to effect a diversion
upon the Danube.

Terzky was already upon his march towards Prague; and nothing,
but the want of horses, prevented the duke from following him
with the regiments who still adhered faithfully to him.  But when,
with the most anxious expectation, he awaited the intelligence from Prague,
he suddenly received information of the loss of that town, the defection of
his generals, the desertion of his troops, the discovery of his whole plot,
and the rapid advance of Piccolomini, who was sworn to his destruction.
Suddenly and fearfully had all his projects been ruined --
all his hopes annihilated.  He stood alone, abandoned by all
to whom he had been a benefactor, betrayed by all on whom he had depended.
But it is under such circumstances that great minds reveal themselves.
Though deceived in all his expectations, he refused to abandon
one of his designs; he despaired of nothing, so long as life remained.
The time was now come, when he absolutely required that assistance,
which he had so often solicited from the Swedes and the Saxons,
and when all doubts of the sincerity of his purposes must be dispelled.
And now, when Oxenstiern and Arnheim were convinced of the sincerity
of his intentions, and were aware of his necessities, they no longer hesitated
to embrace the favourable opportunity, and to offer him their protection.
On the part of Saxony, the Duke Francis Albert of Saxe Lauenberg
was to join him with 4,000 men; and Duke Bernard, and the Palatine Christian
of Birkenfeld, with 6,000 from Sweden, all chosen troops.

Wallenstein left Pilsen, with Terzky's regiment, and the few who either were,
or pretended to be, faithful to him, and hastened to Egra,
on the frontiers of the kingdom, in order to be near the Upper Palatinate,
and to facilitate his junction with Duke Bernard.  He was not yet informed
of the decree by which he was proclaimed a public enemy and traitor;
this thunder-stroke awaited him at Egra.  He still reckoned on the army,
which General Schafgotsch was preparing for him in Silesia,
and flattered himself with the hope that many even of those
who had forsaken him, would return with the first dawning of success.
Even during his flight to Egra (so little humility had he learned
from melancholy experience) he was still occupied with the colossal scheme
of dethroning the Emperor.  It was under these circumstances,
that one of his suite asked leave to offer him his advice.
"Under the Emperor," said he, "your highness is certain of being
a great and respected noble; with the enemy, you are at best
but a precarious king.  It is unwise to risk certainty for uncertainty.
The enemy will avail themselves of your personal influence,
while the opportunity lasts; but you will ever be regarded with suspicion,
and they will always be fearful lest you should treat them
as you have done the Emperor.  Return, then, to your allegiance,
while there is yet time. --  "And how is that to be done?" said Wallenstein,
interrupting him:  "You have 40,000 men-at-arms," rejoined he,
(meaning ducats, which were stamped with the figure of an armed man,)
"take them with you, and go straight to the Imperial Court; then declare
that the steps you have hitherto taken were merely designed to test
the fidelity of the Emperor's servants, and of distinguishing the loyal
from the doubtful; and since most have shown a disposition to revolt,
say you are come to warn his Imperial Majesty against those dangerous men.
Thus you will make those appear as traitors, who are labouring
to represent you as a false villain.  At the Imperial Court,
a man is sure to be welcome with 40,000 ducats, and Friedland will be again
as he was at the first." --  "The advice is good," said Wallenstein,
after a pause, "but let the devil trust to it."

While the duke, in his retirement in Egra, was energetically pushing
his negociations with the enemy, consulting the stars, and indulging in
new hopes, the dagger which was to put an end to his existence
was unsheathed almost under his very eyes.  The imperial decree
which proclaimed him an outlaw, had not failed of its effect;
and an avenging Nemesis ordained that the ungrateful should fall
beneath the blow of ingratitude.  Among his officers, Wallenstein had
particularly distinguished one Leslie*, an Irishman, and had made his fortune.
This was the man who now felt himself called on to execute the sentence
against him, and to earn the price of blood.  No sooner had he reached Egra,
in the suite of the duke, than he disclosed to the commandant of the town,
Colonel Buttler, and to Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon, two Protestant Scotchmen,
the treasonable designs of the duke, which the latter had imprudently enough
communicated to him during the journey.  In these two individuals,
he had found men capable of a determined resolution.  They were now called on
to choose between treason and duty, between their legitimate sovereign and
a fugitive abandoned rebel; and though the latter was their common benefactor,
the choice could not remain for a moment doubtful.  They were solemnly pledged
to the allegiance of the Emperor, and this duty required them to take
the most rapid measures against the public enemy.  The opportunity
was favourable; his evil genius seemed to have delivered him
into the hands of vengeance.  But not to encroach on the province of justice,
they resolved to deliver up their victim alive; and they parted with
the bold resolve to take their general prisoner.  This dark plot
was buried in the deepest silence; and Wallenstein, far from suspecting
his impending ruin, flattered himself that in the garrison of Egra
he possessed his bravest and most faithful champions.

--
* Schiller is mistaken as to this point.  Leslie was a Scotchman, and Buttler
an Irishman and a papist.  He died a general in the Emperor's service,
and founded, at Prague, a convent of Irish Franciscans which still exists.
--

At this time, he became acquainted with the Imperial proclamations
containing his sentence, and which had been published in all the camps.
He now became aware of the full extent of the danger which encompassed him,
the utter impossibility of retracing his steps, his fearfully
forlorn condition, and the absolute necessity of at once trusting himself
to the faith and honour of the Emperor's enemies.  To Leslie he poured forth
all the anguish of his wounded spirit, and the vehemence of his agitation
extracted from him his last remaining secret.  He disclosed to this officer
his intention to deliver up Egra and Ellenbogen, the passes of the kingdom,
to the Palatine of Birkenfeld, and at the same time, informed him
of the near approach of Duke Bernard, of whose arrival
he hoped to receive tidings that very night.  These disclosures,
which Leslie immediately communicated to the conspirators, made them change
their original plan.  The urgency of the danger admitted not of half measures.
Egra might in a moment be in the enemy's hands, and a sudden revolution
set their prisoner at liberty.  To anticipate this mischance,
they resolved to assassinate him and his associates the following night.

In order to execute this design with less noise, it was arranged
that the fearful deed should be perpetrated at an entertainment
which Colonel Buttler should give in the Castle of Egra.
All the guests, except Wallenstein, made their appearance,
who being in too great anxiety of mind to enjoy company excused himself.
With regard to him, therefore, their plan must be again changed;
but they resolved to execute their design against the others.
The three Colonels, Illo, Terzky, and William Kinsky,
came in with careless confidence, and with them Captain Neumann,
an officer of ability, whose advice Terzky sought in every intricate affair.
Previous to their arrival, trusty soldiers of the garrison,
to whom the plot had been communicated, were admitted into the Castle,
all the avenues leading from it guarded, and six of Buttler's dragoons
concealed in an apartment close to the banqueting-room, who,
on a concerted signal, were to rush in and kill the traitors.
Without suspecting the danger that hung over them, the guests
gaily abandoned themselves to the pleasures of the table,
and Wallenstein's health was drunk in full bumpers, not as a servant
of the Emperor, but as a sovereign prince.  The wine opened their hearts,
and Illo, with exultation, boasted that in three days an army would arrive,
such as Wallenstein had never before been at the head of.  "Yes,"
cried Neumann, "and then he hopes to bathe his hands in Austrian blood."
During this conversation, the dessert was brought in, and Leslie gave
the concerted signal to raise the drawbridges, while he himself
received the keys of the gates.  In an instant, the hall was filled
with armed men, who, with the unexpected greeting of "Long live Ferdinand!"
placed themselves behind the chairs of the marked guests.  Surprised,
and with a presentiment of their fate, they sprang from the table.
Kinsky and Terzky were killed upon the spot, and before they could
put themselves upon their guard.  Neumann, during the confusion in the hall,
escaped into the court, where, however, he was instantly recognised
and cut down.  Illo alone had the presence of mind to defend himself.
He placed his back against a window, from whence he poured
the bitterest reproaches upon Gordon, and challenged him to fight him
fairly and honourably.  After a gallant resistance, in which he slew
two of his assailants, he fell to the ground overpowered by numbers,
and pierced with ten wounds.  The deed was no sooner accomplished,
than Leslie hastened into the town to prevent a tumult.
The sentinels at the castle gate, seeing him running and out of breath,
and believing he belonged to the rebels, fired their muskets after him,
but without effect.  The firing, however, aroused the town-guard,
and all Leslie's presence of mind was requisite to allay the tumult.
He hastily detailed to them all the circumstances of Wallenstein's conspiracy,
the measures which had been already taken to counteract it,
the fate of the four rebels, as well as that which awaited their chief.
Finding the troops well disposed, he exacted from them a new oath of fidelity
to the Emperor, and to live and die for the good cause.
A hundred of Buttler's dragoons were sent from the Castle into the town
to patrol the streets, to overawe the partisans of the Duke,
and to prevent tumult.  All the gates of Egra were at the same time seized,
and every avenue to Wallenstein's residence, which adjoined the market-place,
guarded by a numerous and trusty body of troops, sufficient to prevent
either his escape or his receiving any assistance from without.

But before they proceeded finally to execute the deed,
a long conference was held among the conspirators in the Castle,
whether they should kill him, or content themselves with making him prisoner.
Besprinkled as they were with the blood, and deliberating almost over
the very corpses of his murdered associates, even these furious men
yet shuddered at the horror of taking away so illustrious a life.
They saw before their mind's eye him their leader in battle,
in the days of his good fortune, surrounded by his victorious army,
clothed with all the pomp of military greatness, and long-accustomed awe
again seized their minds.  But this transitory emotion was soon effaced
by the thought of the immediate danger.  They remembered the hints
which Neumann and Illo had thrown out at table, the near approach
of a formidable army of Swedes and Saxons, and they clearly saw
that the death of the traitor was their only chance of safety.  They adhered,
therefore, to their first resolution, and Captain Deveroux, an Irishman,
who had already been retained for the murderous purpose,
received decisive orders to act.

While these three officers were thus deciding upon his fate
in the castle of Egra, Wallenstein was occupied in reading the stars
with Seni.  "The danger is not yet over," said the astrologer
with prophetic spirit.  "IT IS," replied the Duke, who would give the law
even to heaven.  "But," he continued with equally prophetic spirit,
"that thou friend Seni thyself shall soon be thrown into prison,
that also is written in the stars."  The astrologer had taken his leave,
and Wallenstein had retired to bed, when Captain Deveroux
appeared before his residence with six halberdiers, and was immediately
admitted by the guard, who were accustomed to see him visit the general
at all hours.  A page who met him upon the stairs, and attempted
to raise an alarm, was run through the body with a pike.  In the antichamber,
the assassins met a servant, who had just come out of the sleeping-room
of his master, and had taken with him the key.  Putting his finger
upon his mouth, the terrified domestic made a sign to them to make no noise,
as the Duke was asleep.  "Friend," cried Deveroux, "it is time to awake him;"
and with these words he rushed against the door, which was also bolted
from within, and burst it open.

Wallenstein had been roused from his first sleep, by the report of a musket
which had accidentally gone off, and had sprung to the window
to call the guard.  At the same moment, he heard, from the adjoining building,
the shrieks of the Countesses Terzky and Kinsky, who had just learnt
the violent fate of their husbands.  Ere he had time to reflect
on these terrible events, Deveroux, with the other murderers,
was in his chamber.  The Duke was in his shirt, as he had leaped out of bed,
and leaning on a table near the window.  "Art thou the villain,"
cried Deveroux to him, "who intends to deliver up the Emperor's troops
to the enemy, and to tear the crown from the head of his Majesty?
Now thou must die!"  He paused for a few moments, as if expecting an answer;
but scorn and astonishment kept Wallenstein silent.  Throwing his arms
wide open, he received in his breast, the deadly blow of the halberds,
and without uttering a groan, fell weltering in his blood.

The next day, an express arrived from the Duke of Lauenburg,
announcing his approach.  The messenger was secured, and another
in Wallenstein's livery despatched to the Duke, to decoy him into Egra.
The stratagem succeeded, and Francis Albert fell into the hands of the enemy.
Duke Bernard of Weimar, who was on his march towards Egra, was nearly sharing
the same fate.  Fortunately, he heard of Wallenstein's death in time
to save himself by a retreat.  Ferdinand shed a tear over the fate
of his general, and ordered three thousand masses to be said for his soul
at Vienna; but, at the same time, he did not forget to reward his assassins
with gold chains, chamberlains' keys, dignities, and estates.

Thus did Wallenstein, at the age of fifty, terminate his active
and extraordinary life.  To ambition, he owed both his greatness and his ruin;
with all his failings, he possessed great and admirable qualities,
and had he kept himself within due bounds, he would have lived and died
without an equal.  The virtues of the ruler and of the hero,
prudence, justice, firmness, and courage, are strikingly prominent features
in his character; but he wanted the gentler virtues of the man,
which adorn the hero, and make the ruler beloved.  Terror was the talisman
with which he worked; extreme in his punishments as in his rewards,
he knew how to keep alive the zeal of his followers, while no general
of ancient or modern times could boast of being obeyed with equal alacrity.
Submission to his will was more prized by him than bravery;
for, if the soldiers work by the latter, it is on the former
that the general depends.  He continually kept up the obedience of his troops
by capricious orders, and profusely rewarded the readiness to obey
even in trifles; because he looked rather to the act itself, than its object.
He once issued a decree, with the penalty of death on disobedience,
that none but red sashes should be worn in the army.  A captain of horse
no sooner heard the order, than pulling off his gold-embroidered sash,
he trampled it under foot; Wallenstein, on being informed of the circumstance,
promoted him on the spot to the rank of Colonel.  His comprehensive glance
was always directed to the whole, and in all his apparent caprice,
he steadily kept in view some general scope or bearing.
The robberies committed by the soldiers in a friendly country, had led to
the severest orders against marauders; and all who should be caught thieving,
were threatened with the halter.  Wallenstein himself having met a straggler
in the open country upon the field, commanded him to be seized without trial,
as a transgressor of the law, and in his usual voice of thunder,
exclaimed, "Hang the fellow," against which no opposition ever availed.
The soldier pleaded and proved his innocence, but the irrevocable sentence
had gone forth.  "Hang then innocent," cried the inexorable Wallenstein,
"the guilty will have then more reason to tremble."  Preparations were
already making to execute the sentence, when the soldier, who gave himself up
for lost, formed the desperate resolution of not dying without revenge.
He fell furiously upon his judge, but was overpowered by numbers,
and disarmed before he could fulfil his design.  "Now let him go,"
said the Duke, "it will excite sufficient terror."

His munificence was supported by an immense income, which was estimated
at three millions of florins yearly, without reckoning the enormous sums
which he raised under the name of contributions.  His liberality and clearness
of understanding, raised him above the religious prejudices of his age;
and the Jesuits never forgave him for having seen through their system,
and for regarding the pope as nothing more than a bishop of Rome.

But as no one ever yet came to a fortunate end who quarrelled with the Church,
Wallenstein also must augment the number of its victims.
Through the intrigues of monks, he lost at Ratisbon the command of the army,
and at Egra his life; by the same arts, perhaps, he lost what was
of more consequence, his honourable name and good repute with posterity.

For in justice it must be admitted, that the pens which have traced
the history of this extraordinary man are not untinged with partiality,
and that the treachery of the duke, and his designs upon
the throne of Bohemia, rest not so much upon proven facts,
as upon probable conjecture.  No documents have yet been brought to light,
which disclose with historical certainty the secret motives of his conduct;
and among all his public and well attested actions, there is,
perhaps, not one which could not have had an innocent end.
Many of his most obnoxious measures proved nothing but the earnest wish
he entertained for peace; most of the others are explained and justified
by the well-founded distrust he entertained of the Emperor,
and the excusable wish of maintaining his own importance.  It is true,
that his conduct towards the Elector of Bavaria looks too like
an unworthy revenge, and the dictates of an implacable spirit;
but still, none of his actions perhaps warrant us in holding his treason
to be proved.  If necessity and despair at last forced him to deserve
the sentence which had been pronounced against him while innocent,
still this, if true, will not justify that sentence.  Thus Wallenstein fell,
not because he was a rebel, but he became a rebel because he fell.
Unfortunate in life that he made a victorious party his enemy,
and still more unfortunate in death, that the same party survived him
and wrote his history.






Book V.




Wallenstein's death rendered necessary the appointment of a new generalissimo;
and the Emperor yielded at last to the advice of the Spaniards,
to raise his son Ferdinand, King of Hungary, to that dignity.  Under him,
Count Gallas commanded, who performed the functions of commander-in-chief,
while the prince brought to this post nothing but his name and dignity.
A considerable force was soon assembled under Ferdinand;
the Duke of Lorraine brought up a considerable body of auxiliaries in person,
and the Cardinal Infante joined him from Italy with 10,000 men.
In order to drive the enemy from the Danube, the new general undertook
the enterprise in which his predecessor had failed, the siege of Ratisbon.
In vain did Duke Bernard of Weimar penetrate into the interior of Bavaria,
with a view to draw the enemy from the town; Ferdinand continued to press
the siege with vigour, and the city, after a most obstinate resistance,
was obliged to open its gates to him.  Donauwerth soon shared the same fate,
and Nordlingen in Swabia was now invested.  The loss of so many
of the imperial cities was severely felt by the Swedish party;
as the friendship of these towns had so largely contributed to the success
of their arms, indifference to their fate would have been inexcusable.
It would have been an indelible disgrace, had they deserted their confederates
in their need, and abandoned them to the revenge of an implacable conqueror.
Moved by these considerations, the Swedish army, under the command of Horn,
and Bernard of Weimar, advanced upon Nordlingen, determined to relieve it
even at the expense of a battle.

The undertaking was a dangerous one, for in numbers the enemy
was greatly superior to that of the Swedes.  There was also a further reason
for avoiding a battle at present; the enemy's force was likely soon to divide,
the Italian troops being destined for the Netherlands.  In the mean time,
such a position might be taken up, as to cover Nordlingen, and cut off
their supplies.  All these grounds were strongly urged by Gustavus Horn,
in the Swedish council of war; but his remonstrances were disregarded
by men who, intoxicated by a long career of success, mistook the suggestions
of prudence for the voice of timidity.  Overborne by the superior influence
of Duke Bernard, Gustavus Horn was compelled to risk a contest,
whose unfavourable issue, a dark foreboding seemed already to announce.
The fate of the battle depended upon the possession of a height which
commanded the imperial camp.  An attempt to occupy it during the night failed,
as the tedious transport of the artillery through woods and hollow ways
delayed the arrival of the troops.  When the Swedes arrived about midnight,
they found the heights in possession of the enemy, strongly entrenched.
They waited, therefore, for daybreak, to carry them by storm.
Their impetuous courage surmounted every obstacle; the entrenchments,
which were in the form of a crescent, were successfully scaled
by each of the two brigades appointed to the service; but as they entered
at the same moment from opposite sides, they met and threw each other
into confusion.  At this unfortunate moment, a barrel of powder blew up,
and created the greatest disorder among the Swedes.  The imperial cavalry
charged upon their broken ranks, and the flight became universal.
No persuasion on the part of their general could induce the fugitives
to renew the assault.

He resolved, therefore, in order to carry this important post,
to lead fresh troops to the attack.  But in the interim,
some Spanish regiments had marched in, and every attempt to gain it
was repulsed by their heroic intrepidity.  One of the duke's own regiments
advanced seven times, and was as often driven back.  The disadvantage
of not occupying this post in time, was quickly and sensibly felt.
The fire of the enemy's artillery from the heights, caused such slaughter
in the adjacent wing of the Swedes, that Horn, who commanded there,
was forced to give orders to retire.  Instead of being able to cover
the retreat of his colleague, and to check the pursuit of the enemy,
Duke Bernard, overpowered by numbers, was himself driven into the plain,
where his routed cavalry spread confusion among Horn's brigade,
and rendered the defeat complete.  Almost the entire infantry
were killed or taken prisoners.  More than 12,000 men remained dead
upon the field of battle; 80 field pieces, about 4,000 waggons,
and 300 standards and colours fell into the hands of the Imperialists.
Horn himself, with three other generals, were taken prisoners.
Duke Bernard with difficulty saved a feeble remnant of his army,
which joined him at Frankfort.

The defeat at Nordlingen, cost the Swedish Chancellor the second
sleepless night he had passed in Germany*.  The consequences of this disaster
were terrible.  The Swedes had lost by it at once their superiority
in the field, and with it the confidence of their confederates,
which they had gained solely by their previous military success.
A dangerous division threatened the Protestant Confederation with ruin.
Consternation and terror seized upon the whole party; while the Papists arose
with exulting triumph from the deep humiliation into which they had sunk.
Swabia and the adjacent circles first felt the consequences
of the defeat of Nordlingen; and Wirtemberg, in particular, was overrun
by the conquering army.  All the members of the League of Heilbronn
trembled at the prospect of the Emperor's revenge; those who could,
fled to Strasburg, while the helpless free cities awaited their fate
with alarm.  A little more of moderation towards the conquered, would have
quickly reduced all the weaker states under the Emperor's authority;
but the severity which was practised, even against those
who voluntarily surrendered, drove the rest to despair, and roused them
to a vigorous resistance.

--
* The first was occasioned by the death of Gustavus Adolphus.
--

In this perplexity, all looked to Oxenstiern for counsel and assistance;
Oxenstiern applied for both to the German States.  Troops were wanted;
money likewise, to raise new levies, and to pay to the old the arrears
which the men were clamorously demanding.  Oxenstiern addressed himself
to the Elector of Saxony; but he shamefully abandoned the Swedish cause,
to negociate for a separate peace with the Emperor at Pirna.  He solicited aid
from the Lower Saxon States; but they, long wearied of the Swedish pretensions
and demands for money, now thought only of themselves; and George,
Duke of Lunenburg, in place of flying to the assistance of Upper Germany,
laid siege to Minden, with the intention of keeping possession of it
for himself.  Abandoned by his German allies, the chancellor exerted himself
to obtain the assistance of foreign powers.  England, Holland, and Venice
were applied to for troops and money; and, driven to the last extremity,
the chancellor reluctantly resolved to take the disagreeable step
which he had so long avoided, and to throw himself under the protection
of France.

The moment had at last arrived which Richelieu had long waited for
with impatience.  Nothing, he was aware, but the impossibility
of saving themselves by any other means, could induce the Protestant States
in Germany to support the pretensions of France upon Alsace.
This extreme necessity had now arrived; the assistance of that power
was indispensable, and she was resolved to be well paid for the active part
which she was about to take in the German war.  Full of lustre and dignity,
it now came upon the political stage.  Oxenstiern, who felt little reluctance
in bestowing the rights and possessions of the empire, had already ceded
the fortress of Philipsburg, and the other long coveted places.
The Protestants of Upper Germany now, in their own names,
sent a special embassy to Richelieu, requesting him to take Alsace,
the fortress of Breyssach, which was still to be recovered from the enemy,
and all the places upon the Upper Rhine, which were the keys of Germany,
under the protection of France.  What was implied by French protection
had been seen in the conduct of France towards the bishoprics of Metz,
Toul, and Verdun, which it had held for centuries against the rightful owners.
Treves was already in the possession of French garrisons;
Lorraine was in a manner conquered, as it might at any time
be overrun by an army, and could not, alone, and with its own strength,
withstand its formidable neighbour.  France now entertained
the hope of adding Alsace to its large and numerous possessions,
and, -- since a treaty was soon to be concluded with the Dutch
for the partition of the Spanish Netherlands -- the prospect of making
the Rhine its natural boundary towards Germany.  Thus shamefully
were the rights of Germany sacrificed by the German States
to this treacherous and grasping power, which, under the mask
of a disinterested friendship, aimed only at its own aggrandizement;
and while it boldly claimed the honourable title of a Protectress,
was solely occupied with promoting its own schemes, and advancing
its own interests amid the general confusion.