12

Denmark’s War against the Emperor 1625–9

TROUBLE IN LOWER SAXONY

The North German Bishoprics

Mansfeld’s evacuation of East Frisia in January 1624 essentially ended the war in the Empire. Danish intervention in June 1625 began what the Danes called the Kejserkrig, or war against the emperor. Fighting was largely concentrated in Lower Saxony, a region that had escaped conflict until now. Though a distinct phase in the conflict, most people regarded it as the continuation of the earlier trouble. The Palatine question represented one element of continuity, particularly for the British, who hoped Denmark would succeed where Mansfeld had failed. Far more significant, however, were the hopes and fears stirred by the shift of power in the Empire since 1618 surrounding the restitution of church land taken by Protestants since 1552.

At stake were seven Lower Saxon and five Westphalian bishoprics, each group constituting over a quarter of their respective regions (see Table 2).¹ Catholic influence in the region was restricted to south-western Westphalia, where it depended entirely on Elector Ferdinand of Cologne. The Protestant presence was magnified by the fact that virtually all the secular land was also in their hands, but their influence was lessened by rivalry among local dynasties and between them and the Danish king. Divisions led to the loss of Osnabrück, where Cardinal Hohenzollern was elected as the first Catholic bishop for 49 years in 1623. Though Emperor Ferdinand still respected the Mühlhausen guarantee, he was clearly exasperated at the Lower Saxons’ failure to prevent Duke Christian raising armies in 1621 and 1622–3. For their part, the Lower Saxons suspected the emperor’s repeated calls for money to repel Bethlen and the Turks were a ruse to amass resources for a strike against them. Tilly’s continued presence across the Weser in Westphalia added to their anxiety.

Table 2: Possession of the North German bishoprics c.1590–1650

Territory	Size (km2)	Religion		Ruler
Lower Saxony
Bremen	5,170	P	1596–1634	Johann Friedrich of Holstein-Gottorp
		P	1634–44	Frederick III of Denmark
		P	1645–1714	Sweden
Magdeburg	5,005	P	1598–1631	Christian Wilhelm of Brandenburg
		C	1631–8	Archduke Leopold Wilhelm (Habsburg)
		P	1638–80	August of Sachsen-Weissenfels
Halberstadt	1,705	P	1616–23	Christian of Brunswick-Lüneburg
			1623–5	Vacant
		C	1627–48	Leopold Wilhelm (see Magdeburg)
Hildesheim	1,760*	C	1612–50	Ferdinand of Cologne
Schwerin	770	P	1603–24	Ulrich II of Denmark
		P	1624–33	Ulrich III of Denmark
		P	1634–48	Adolf Friedrich of Mecklenburg
Lübeck	522	P	1607–34	Johann Friedrich (see Bremen)
		P	1634–55	Johann X of Holstein-Gottorp
Ratzeburg	374	P	1610–36	August of Brunswick-Lüneburg
		C	1629–30	Bernhard von Mallinkrodt
		P	1636–48	Gustav Adolf of Mecklenburg
Westphalia
Münster	10,500	C	1612–50	Ferdinand of Cologne
Paderborn	975	C	1618–50	Ferdinand of Cologne
Osnabrück	2,025	P	1591–1623	Philipp Sigismund of Brunswick-Lüneburg
		C	1623–5	Eitel Friedrich Count of Hohenzollern
		C	1625–61	Franz Wilhelm von Wartenberg
Verden	1,320	P	1586–1623	Philipp Sigismund (see Osnabrück)
		P	1623–9	Frederick III of Denmark (see Bremen)
		C	1630–1	Franz Wilhelm (see Osnabrück)
		P	1631–4	Johann Friedrich (see Bremen)
		P	1634–44	Frederick III of Denmark (see Bremen)
		P	1645–1714	Sweden
Minden	1,198	P	1599–1629	Christian of Brunswick-Lüneburg
		C	1629–48	Franz Wilhelm (see Osnabrück)
		P	1648–1806	Brandenburg-Prussia

Note: Bremen and Magdeburg were archbishoprics, the rest bishoprics

C Catholic

P Protestant

Danish Motives

Christian IV of Denmark watched these developments with concern. He saw the church lands as convenient sinecures for his younger sons and a means to extend Danish influence across the great trading rivers of the Elbe and Weser. But Danish intrusion had proved unwelcome to the Guelphs and the Hanseatic cities, as well as to the Holstein-Gottorps who were Christian’s vassals and rivals, especially for the control of Bremen. Christian sought better relations and greater influence in Lower Saxony, an area that had long been a Guelph preserve. A combination of factors encouraged him to consider military intervention from early 1624. Religious solidarity had little to do with this, since the time to aid the Bohemian and German Protestants had passed. However, concern that Sweden might send an army encouraged Christian to think about deploying first, and once Gustavus Adolphus became bogged down in his own war with Poland, it was safer for Christian to contemplate full-scale intervention in Germany.

This was unpopular with the Danish nobility, who feared the costs of a war waged for Christian’s dynastic interests. Christian’s large cash reserve meant he could ignore domestic opposition and start without additional taxes. Realizing a long conflict would require more support, he welcomed a renewed appeal on Frederick’s behalf from his brother-in-law, James I. Denmark joined the negotiations in The Hague in January 1625 for an evangelical alliance. Sir Robert Anstruther, a fluent Danish speaker, arrived with the first instalment of a large British subsidy in June. By then, Christian had assembled over 20,000 men in Holstein and mobilized a fleet of thirty ships.

It has been claimed that he intended to break past Tilly and rally potential allies like Hessen-Kassel, or the restless Upper Austrian peasants.² This is unlikely at this point. Christian’s activities remained restricted to Lower Saxony where his representatives lobbied for his election to the vacant post of Kreis colonel at the assembly in March 1625, to give him command of any troops mobilized to protect the bishoprics. He sought a legitimate framework to consolidate Danish influence and present his dynastic objectives as upholding the imperial constitution. The Lower Saxons saw through this and chose Duke Friedrich Ulrich of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel instead. Christian forced the assembly to reconvene in May, when the earlier decision was annulled and he was duly elected. The delegates also agreed to mobilize 12,900 men and accepted Danish pay and disciplinary codes.³ Around 7,000 soldiers actually collected at Verden near the junction of the Aller and Weser rivers. Christian’s troops crossed the Elbe just west of Hamburg and moved to Nienburg on the Weser at the beginning of June. The show of force was to improve his hand in negotiations with Tilly and Ferdinand with whom he maintained contact by courier after operations began. No firm agreement had been reached at The Hague and he did not embrace the wider anti-Habsburg alliance until he had become isolated by the end of 1625. Already his actions caused consternation in Lower Saxony. The Lüneburg Guelphs condemned Friedrich Ulrich’s decision to relinquish Kreis command. Duke Georg, the future grandfather of Britain’s George I, resigned his Danish commission and joined the imperial army as part of a deal to save his elder brother’s duchy of Celle from imperial sequestration.

The Problem of Neutrality

The crisis makes much clearer one of the war’s main causes: the dispute over authority in the Empire. The Bohemian Revolt already posed the dilemma whether imperial Estates could remain neutral during conflict in the Empire. The emperor had tolerated Lower Saxon neutrality despite its breach by Duke Christian, but Danish intervention made this impossible. Ferdinand ordered the imperial Estates not to assist the Danes and issued a mandate on 7 May authorizing the Liga to counter the enemies of the Empire. A refusal to obey these instructions threatened to render the Empire ineffective through what later generations would call the ‘free-rider problem’. Imperial Estates were happy to enjoy the Empire’s protection, but were often reluctant to contribute to the cost of that protection, especially when problems occurred far from their own lands. Confessional tension merely added a further reason not to participate. The Protestant refusal to contribute since 1618 stopped well-short of secession, and the Lower Saxons presented their armed neutrality as upholding the public peace and thus in conformity with the emperor’s wishes. But for Ferdinand, the liberty of the Empire took precedence over that of individual territories, which were not free to decide when they wanted to help.

This constitutional issue had an international dimension, since it remained unclear whether the emperor or princes were free to help allies elsewhere. Maximilian of Bavaria was particularly concerned lest Ferdinand use his current advantages to divert German resources to help Spain. For Maximilian, the Empire was a collective and any decision to involve it in external conflicts required consultation, at least with the electors whose ranks he had just joined.⁴

The modern concept of neutrality had no place either in the seventeenth-century imperial constitution or in international law that remained governed by Christian morality. This was reflected in Hugo Grotius’ seminal work, De jura belli ac pacis, which appeared in 1625. War was about restoring justice, implying one side was right, and the other wrong. Absolute neutrality was morally indefensible, because it entailed indifference to both sides. A neutral should still favour the just cause by, for example, allowing transit for its troops, or providing war materials and even auxiliaries. These guidelines reflected the actual expectations of belligerents towards would-be neutrals. Naturally, each party considered its cause as just, demanding cooperation in return for respecting territorial integrity and refraining from forcing full participation. The situation was especially difficult for the imperial Estates as they owed allegiance to the emperor who was clearly a belligerent in the present conflict. As Tilly told the Hessians, ‘It’s called obedience, not neutrality. Your lord is an imperial prince whose overlord is the emperor.’⁵

Benevolent neutrality was possible for those who sympathized with one side and were sufficiently distant from the other to be safe from reprisals. Salzburg presented its refusal to join the Liga as proof of its neutrality in its dealings with Protestants during the war yet supplied soldiers and cash to Bavaria and the emperor.⁶ Strasbourg favoured the other side, selling supplies and occasionally providing access across its strategic bridge. The three Hanseatic cities of Hamburg, Bremen and Lübeck enjoyed a more even neutrality, thanks partly to modern fortifications strengthened during the 1620s, but also to their ambivalence towards major Protestant powers like Denmark who seemed more threatening than the emperor to whom they made token payments to discharge their obligations. Their Catholic counterpart was the imperial city of Cologne that also enjoyed wide trading connections regardless of confession, and became a convenient venue for negotiations and financial transactions. Like Salzburg, Cologne refused to join the Liga, but paid imperial taxes and loaned money to the emperor. Ferdinand tolerated its selling supplies to the Dutch, but censured the council when transactions involved his direct enemies in the Empire.⁷

Peace Talks Fail

Ferdinand had no intention of allowing the Lower Saxons to remain neutral, but equally he did not want a new war against a powerful opponent. The imperial army was in no condition to take on the Danes, especially since Spain had withdrawn its auxiliaries at the end of 1623. The situation in Hungary remained uncertain due to continued speculation surrounding Bethlen’s intentions. Ferdinand combined a show of force with conciliatory gestures, confirming the Mühlhausen guarantee on 27 July. Two days later, Tilly seized the Weser crossings of Höxter and Holzminden, baring Christian’s route southwards. Maximilian cooperated because Christian’s activities in Lower Saxony suggested he was organizing a new Protestant union.

Tilly had only 18,000 men, having left the rest with Anholt on the Lower Rhine in case Mansfeld attacked from the Dutch Republic. He remained west of the Weser in Westphalia, while King Christian concentrated his forces on the opposite bank at Hameln to the north. He rode round Hameln on 30 July, inspecting its defences. Allegedly drunk, he fell from his horse into a seven-metre ditch and was knocked unconscious. Though he recovered, he lapsed into a two-month depression. Exactly how serious this was remains unclear, since his injury provided the excuse to continue negotiations with both the emperor and his potential allies in The Hague. Most of the Lower Saxons took the opportunity to withdraw their contingents during these discussions, while the Danes retreated to Verden in August. Johann Georg of Saxony received Ferdinand’s approval to host a peace conference in Brunswick where he tabled his now standard solution: foreign troops should withdraw in return for Ferdinand’s confirmation of the 1555 Peace and the Mühlhausen guarantee. Philip IV and Isabella urged Ferdinand to settle with Christian to prevent a resumption of war in the Empire. Ferdinand was prepared to accept, provided Christian withdrew first. This seemingly petty demand was essential to maintain his authority otherwise it would appear he was open to extortion.

Christian talked peace in Brunswick while preparing for war in The Hague. He demonstrated his Protestant credentials by insisting not only that Tilly withdraw, but that the Liga dissolve itself. Britain promised £30,000 a month, to which the Dutch added £5,000 in a convention agreed on 9 December. Meanwhile, Mansfeld moved his 4,000 survivors into Cleves once Breda fell to the Spanish. He was joined by another 2,000 Britons and 4,000 German, French and Dutch recruits, while Duke Christian recruited three cavalry regiments. Together, they marched across northern Westphalia to join the Danes in October. Tilly was too weak to stop them, or to take Nienburg on the Weser. His army lost 8,000 to plague and lack of supplies, and only captured one position east of the river, at Calenberg on 3 November. The prospect of Anglo-Dutch subsidies enabled Christian IV to commission former paladins, like Margrave Georg Friedrich and the Weimar brothers, to raise more Germans, while another 8,000 Britons arrived during 1626, including Donald MacKay’s Scottish regiment made famous by Robert Monro’s memoirs.⁸

The long-awaited evangelical alliance was at last taking shape, raising militants’ hopes for a double blow against the Habsburgs, to be launched by Christian’s reinforced army in north-west Germany while Bethlen struck from the south east. Such dreams were wholly unrealistic. Bethlen’s representative in The Hague failed to convince anyone that his master would actually appear: Maurice of Nassau had even joked that he doubted whether Bethlen was a real person.⁹ Anglo-Dutch aid was compromised by their separate decision to attack Cadiz that September, ensuring that the promised subsidies were soon in arrears. Christian delayed ratifying The Hague convention until March 1626, only doing so because the arrival of a new imperial army under Wallenstein forced his hand.

WALLENSTEIN

Rise to Prominence

There was little about Wallenstein’s early life to suggest he would become the most controversial figure of the war. From a junior branch of the extended Waldstein family and orphaned at the age of twelve, he was raised by an uncle, eventually assuming control of his father’s estate on the Elbe. With just 92 dependent households, this placed him in the ranks of the minor Bohemian nobility. ‘Tall of stature, slender, lean and almost perpetually melancholic’, he accentuated his sombre appearance by austere, black clothing and by keeping his dark hair short and combed back. All contemporaries testified to his penetrating gaze and frosty, unsmiling expression. He could be charming and ‘was very liberal and when he gave presents he very much rejoiced and indeed was a man who gave the most to him who least expected it, but his gifts were golden snares which indissolubly obliged’.¹⁰ He seems to have been a hard man to like, alternating between icy self-control and violent outbursts that became more frequent as his health waned. He never fully recovered from malaria in 1605 and, despite drinking moderately and eating (by contemporary standards) healthily, he already suffered from gout by 1620. A decade later he was suffering heart trouble and panic attacks, nervous disorders, constipation, colic and depression, all of which no doubt encouraged his interest in astrology.

His upbringing was conventional and included a brief spell at the Calvinist Altdorf University, from which he was expelled for brawling. He entered Habsburg service during the Turkish War, converting to Catholicism to further his career. His real opportunity came when he married a rich widow in 1609 whose early death from plague left him property worth nearly 400,000 fl. He became a colonel in the Moravian Estates army in 1615, defecting four years later to the emperor for whom he had already raised two regiments. He owed his later influence not to military glory but clever integration into the post-revolt order. Rather than following the war as it moved to the Rhine after 1620, he remained in Bohemia as Liechtenstein’s subordinate, assisting in confiscating rebel property and participating in the notorious mint consortium of 1622–3 that contributed to the hyperinflation of that time. He emerged as a major beneficiary of the land transfers, increasing his share by some astute sales and purchases to amass nearly 1,200km² in north-east Bohemia, including 9 towns and 57 villages and castles. The profits were invested in advancing his influence by loaning the emperor 1.6 million fl. between 1619 and 1623. With an empty treasury, Ferdinand repaid his creditors with honours, raisingWallenstein’s estates to the duchy of Friedland in March 1624. His ties to the Habsburg elite were strengthened by his second marriage, to Isabella Katharina, younger daughter of Count Harrach, an imperial privy councillor and a member of the ‘Spanish’ faction around Ferdinand’s trusted adviser, Eggenberg.¹¹

This rapid rise to wealth and influence had already made Wallenstein controversial by 1625. Historical interest was shaped subsequently by Schiller’s drama that established the trope of a man of destiny reaching beyond accepted norms and being punished for it. Later writers have variously presented him as a military dictator, or a Czech or German national hero, thanks largely to speculation that he was ready to betray the Habsburgs to bring either Bohemian independence or peace for Germany. More recently, he has appeared as a man out of time, the last of the great mercenary captains soon made irrelevant by the growth of the modern state.¹²

Despite the publication of virtually every surviving document with any connection to him, the ‘Wallenstein Problem’ persists because his motives remain unclear. He was clearly driven by a thirst for status that remained unsatisfied in 1625, but rumours that he wanted to be a king or even emperor were just wild speculation. It is often forgotten that Wallenstein lacked a key element driving dynastic ambitions. His daughter was safely married to Count Rudolf Kaunitz, while his only son died in January 1628 aged barely three months. Six months later Wallenstein named his cousin Max as heir. Wallenstein’s focus seems to have shifted from personal advancement to consolidating what he had achieved before his health failed: his doctors gave him only two years to live by the end of 1633. He grew defensive and frustrated at the accusation that he had risen above his station and was not worthy to mix with princes and crowned heads. The mounting criticism simply fuelled his ingrained arrogance, especially as it became obvious by the end of 1631 that Ferdinand considered him indispensable. Convinced he alone could win the war, he resented any attempt at supervision, but his self-confidence was undermined by the growing realization that he was no longer trusted by the imperial government.

The Creation of a New Army, 1625–6

Wallenstein had been promoted to major-general in June 1623 for his service against Bethlen. Although it was the most junior general’s rank, his vast wealth enabled him to punch above his station, allowing him to offer that year to raise an entire army as a way of catapulting himself into the forefront of the political and military elite. He already had the backing of powerful friends in Vienna, as well as the new Spanish ambassador, the marquis de Aytona, who was likewise convinced by Wallenstein’s apparent Midas touch. The fresh crisis in Lower Saxony added urgency by revealing the extent of Ferdinand’s dependency on the Liga. The original balance had been reversed so that the remaining imperial units were attached as auxiliaries to Tilly’s army. By forming his own field force, Ferdinand could trump Maximilian, who had begun to criticize him for not pulling his weight against the Danish threat.¹³

Negotiations were opened with Wallenstein in April 1625, which led to a contract in June authorizing the raising of 6,000 cavalry and 18,000 infantry.¹⁴ It is often forgotten that this was not the emperor’s only force. Ferdinand also sent 2,000 men from the Tirol into Italy and allowed Spain to recruit 10,000 more to reinforce the Army of Lombardy to repel the Franco-Savoyard attack, as we have seen in the previous chapter. He retained 16,000 men in Hungary and the Habsburg hereditary lands, and assigned his new general another 12,500 withdrawn from Hungary earlier that year, leaving Wallenstein to find only 11,500 new recruits to meet the contract. The official strength of the new force matched what contemporaries considered an exercitus formatus, or formidable field army capable of fighting a major battle. The size was deliberately chosen to match Tilly’s force and place Ferdinand militarily on par with the Liga. Wallenstein informed Tilly that he sought ‘conjunction’, meaning cooperation on an autonomous footing. His refusal to be Tilly’s subordinate undoubtedly suited his own desire for independence, but also served Ferdinand’s intention of assuming the leading role in the war.

This depended on raising sufficient troops. Though Wallenstein boasted 50,000 men at the start of 1626, he mustered less than 16,000 at Aschersleben, the town south-east of Halberstadt that became his new base. Moreover, many were raw, ill-disciplined recruits. They failed to impress Aytona who regarded Ferdinand as still dependent on Maximilian.¹⁵ The subsequent military expansion more than redressed the imbalance during 1626: Tilly mustered 35,000, of whom 20,000 were with his main army and the rest in garrisons. The imperial army meanwhile reached around 70,000 combatants, an immense escalation over the earlier phase of the war, though those under Wallenstein’s immediate command rarely exceeded Tilly’s own field force. The expansion was driven partly by strategic necessity, since Mansfeld’s invasion of Silesia in October 1626 was to oblige Wallenstein to deploy a second force there. Growth was also part of a deliberate policy to amass an overwhelming force to compel King Christian to make peace. Wallenstein presented this plan to a meeting with his father-in-law Harrach and Eggenberg at Bruck an der Leitha on 25–26 November. Though his demand for 100,000 troops was temporarily reduced to 70,000, he secured authorization for the higher establishment through a personal visit to Vienna in May 1627.¹⁶ Further units were authorized after 1628, partly in response to Ferdinand’s expanding commitments, but it is unlikely that the total effective strength ever exceeded 110,000, including those units that remained outside Wallenstein’s control (see Table 3).

Table 3: Strength of the imperial army

Date	Paper Strength			Probable Effective Total
	Infantry	Cavalry	Total
1625	45,300	16,600	61,900	40–50,000
1626	86,100	25,000	111,100	60–70,000
1627	83,100	29,600	112,700	100,000
1628	102,900	27,300	130,200	110,000
1629	111,000	17,900	128,900	110,000
1630	129,900	21,000	150,900	95,000

Paper strength calculated from the Kriegslisten printed in Documenta Bohemica Bellum Tricennale Illustrantia, Vol. IV, pp.414–46.

Wallenstein’s Powers and Subordinates

Wallenstein’s position was not as exceptional as is sometimes suggested and he was far from all-powerful. The existing generals resented his rapid promotion and autonomy. His acerbic personality undoubtedly created tension, but there was an underlying structural problem beyond his control. All early modern armies lacked clear, unified command structures and even monarchs who led their troops in person, like Gustavus Adolphus, found it hard to assert authority over some of their subordinates. Talent and proven experience were only two of several factors determining appointment. Senior aristocrats often demanded command by right of their elevated birth, or because they raised regiments at their own expense, as in Spain and France. Even officers from more humble backgrounds could acquire sufficient influence to insist on their own commands. The result was to assign virtually independent commands to important officers who acted autonomously in their own areas. Fortresses were entrusted to governors who were also not required to report to the nearest field commander. What contemporaries called a ‘general staff’ was little more than a collective label for all officers of that rank.

The imperial army followed this pattern. Ferdinand retained exclusive control over the appointment and promotion of generals, though Wallenstein was allowed to nominate candidates from April 1628.¹⁷ The emperor was assisted by the Court War Council, but this functioned as an administrative clearing house with limited capacity for strategic planning. The dispersal of Ferdinand’s enemies encouraged fragmentation, with senior officers assigned separate commands in Hungary, Alsace, the hereditary lands and the contingents sent to Italy and the Empire. Each general reported directly to the emperor with the question of their relative seniority left deliberately vague. Wallenstein’s appointment only partially centralized this by giving him control of all the forces in the Empire, including the two regiments in Alsace previously under Archduke Leopold, and the six intended to help Spain in the Netherlands. The other units in the hereditary lands and Hungary remained outside his jurisdiction, as did those sent to Milan.

Twenty years his senior, the veteran Marradas was mollified by his retention of command in the Habsburg lands and promotion to field marshal in March 1626. Caraffa had been enticed at great expense from the Spanish army to command in Hungary and was not so easily satisfied, rejoining his former comrades in 1628. Liechtenstein, Wallenstein’s former superior, retired, as did Tieffenbach, though Collalto remained head of the War Council. Wallenstein was far from officially free to choose his own subordinates either. He could negotiate contracts to raise new regiments, but Ferdinand retained the final say in appointing their colonels. Recruiting patents continued to be issued by the War Council with Ferdinand’s signature. Despite his denials, however, Wallenstein was clearly issuing these on his own authority by 1627 and he met little opposition to his own choice of colonels, especially after the Bruck conference where he secured the right to nominate Protestants. One of the first was Arnim, a Brandenburg Lutheran noble appointed in January 1627 having served Sweden, Poland and Mansfeld. A man of considerable ability, Arnim was already a field marshal by April 1628 and Wallenstein’s second-in-command. Many Scottish, English and Irish officers also entered imperial service at this point.¹⁸ Wallenstein also appointed French-speaking Walloons, notably Count Merode who became his principal recruiter, raising at least 74 companies by 1629 when he enlisted another 2,500 men.

The appointment of another Walloon, Gil de Haas, a barely literate stonemason from Ypres who eventually became a Bavarian general, indicates that Wallenstein did not share his contemporaries’ snobbery. Nonetheless, many older officers felt the newcomers lacked experience, poking fun at colonels allegedly too young to grow beards. The rapid expansion of the imperial army after 1626 undoubtedly led to a decline in overall quality. Of the 15 regiments in imperial service at the beginning of 1625, 14 still existed after Wallenstein’s dismissal in November 1630, whereas only 66 of the 103 regiments raised during his first generalship remained. Of those disbanded prior to 1631, 30 were in existence for less than two years (see Table 4). Early disbandment rarely resulted from battle casualties; instead it usually reflected a colonel’s inability to find sufficient recruits to meet his contract. Impermanence inhibited good discipline and it is not surprising that Merode’s name is said to provide the origins of the word ‘marauder’.

The notoriety of some of Wallenstein’s new appointments obscures the presence of a core of senior officers he inherited from the existing

Table 4: Regiments of the imperial army 1618–30

Date of Raising	Total Regiments Raised that Year	Those Surviving in Mid-1625
Before 1618	–	2
1618	10	2
1619	18	4
1620	11	–
1621	17	5
1622	5	–
1623	5	–
1624	3	2
Total 1618–24	69	15 plus 3 disbanded in 1625
		Surviving in Dec. 1630	Lasting Less than 2 Years
1625	18	11	1
1626	19	8	5
1627	21	7	12
1628	10	7	2
1629	14	14	–
1630	21	19	10
Total 1625–30	103	66	30
Total 1618–30	172

Sources: G. Tessin, Die Regimenter der europäischen Staaten im Ancien Régime (Osnabrück, 1986); A. Wrede, Geschichte der K.u.K. Wehrmacht (5 vols., Vienna, 1898–1905).

army with whom he was obliged to work thanks to their social status or connections. They included four imperial princes: Duke Adolf of Holstein-Gottorp and three of the four Sachsen-Lauenburg dukes who were converts to Catholicism and had already raised regiments against the Bohemian rebels. Both Franz Albrecht of Lauenburg and Duke Adolf were poor commanders and lax disciplinarians, but they had to be tolerated. The rest were solid professionals, like the Breuner cousins from Lower Austria, or Moravians and Silesians who had already changed sides like Heinrich Schlick and Baron Schaffgotsch. The latter served Wallenstein loyally, but Schlick and most Bohemians remained lukewarm towards their new commander. The same was true of the many Italians who were already in imperial service, like the Colloredo brothers, had transferred from Spain, like Octavio Piccolomini and Ernesto Montecuccoli, or who had joined from the Liga army, like Matteo Gallas. Their connections to Spain and the Italian states provided alternative potential patrons, notably in the case of Piccolomini who came from a prominent Florentine family that had already provided two popes.¹⁹ Others had impeccable aristocratic pedigrees, such as Torquato Conti, Wallenstein’s erstwhile collaborator in raising his cavalry regiments in 1619, who was marquis of Quadagnola, while Collalto was a distant relative of the emperor’s second wife, Eleonore of Gonzaga.

Wallenstein’s inability to satisfy his subordinates’ ambitions encouraged disloyalty. Francesco Grana found his career blocked by Wallenstein’s distaste for his rapacious plundering. Piccolomini and Gallas suspected Wallenstein of favouring Bohemians and Germans, something that was patently untrue. Some were simply the victims of his violent outbursts. A serious rift developed with Johann Aldringen whom Wallenstein had appointed colonel and de facto chief of staff in 1625. During an argument two years later Wallenstein called him a ‘pen-pusher’, a remark that Aldringen, acutely conscious of his humble origins as a scribe, felt unable to forgive. Though promoted general in 1629, Aldringen found his career overtaken by more recent appointees and so cultivated alternative patrons, including Gallas who became his brother-in-law when they both married daughters of Count Arco in 1630.

Finally, the persistence of separate commands outside Wallenstein’s jurisdiction left the emperor with alternative fields for patronage. The best example is one of Ernst Mansfeld’s distant relations, Count Wolfgang Mansfeld, who commanded the Saxons in 1619–21 before converting to Catholicism and joining the emperor in 1622. One of the most important, if now forgotten, commanders of the middle stage of the war, he served in Italy until 1628 and so remained outside Wallenstein’s influence.

War Finance

Wallenstein’s grip on the army’s financing was also less secure than generally believed. He is widely regarded as the perfecter, if not the inventor, of a system of military funding known as ‘contributions’. Aptly dubbed a ‘tax of violence’ by John Lynn, this decentralized war finance, removed it from the Estates and handed it to officers who forced communities to maintain their units. The method offered the possibility for a near-bankrupt monarch to make war at his enemies’ expense. However, it was not Wallenstein’s intention to wage war by ‘offensive logistics’ as some have claimed, deliberately raising more men than necessary to deny territory to his opponent.²⁰ The main evidence for this assertion comes from Khevenhüller’s near-contemporary account of Ferdinand’s reign where he claims Wallenstein demanded over twice the authorized establishment. In fact, he only received permission to levy contributions in enemy territory, none of which had been captured in 1625. Actual military funding relied on more varied methods, of which what have been termed contributions were but one element.

The real core was credit, not extortion, heightening the importance of Wallenstein’s personal relationship with the emperor. Like Spinola, Wallenstein was able to raise an entire army because he was already a wealthy man. Officers volunteered to raise new units because they knew Wallenstein could not only advance them start-up capital but, thanks to the emperor’s trust, could guarantee repayment of their expenses. The muster system provided most of the money. Acting under imperial authority, Wallenstein assigned towns to accommodate soldiers while their unit assembled. Colonels were authorized to demand food and wages for full establishment numbers from the first day, even though it might take weeks to gather all the recruits. Wallenstein increased his colonels’ personal allowances to 500 fl. a week (although they were reduced to 300 fl. in 1629), in contrast to their colleagues in the Liga who were permitted 402 fl. a month. Soldiers’ pay remained unremarkable, at 7.5 fl. for an infantryman each month, plus bread worth another 2.5 fl.²¹ Whereas other rulers still tried to pay their officers’ costs directly, Wallenstein freed Ferdinand from this obligation by allowing his colonels to recoup the expense of equipping, clothing and feeding their men from the local population.

Wallenstein also relieved the indebted imperial treasury of the obligation to pay soldiers once they marched to the front. Both the Liga and imperial armies had struggled to maintain direct monthly payments to their men after 1618 and resorted to expedients already tried during the Turkish War, such as reducing pay rates and persuading men to accept rations or uniforms in lieu. Accumulating pay arrears became a major feature of the war and would partly dictate its course in the 1640s. Governments could hope to write off some of the money if men died on campaign, but the balance owed to the others exceeded any realistic hope of settlement. It became impossible to demobilize armies, because regiments refused to disband until they were paid. The usual practice was to off-load responsibility by raising loans guaranteed by the Estates who won concessions in return for amortizing additional debts. Ferdinand had already obliged the Bohemian Estates to assume 8.2 million fl. of debt in 1623.

Christian IV’s problems illustrate the limits to direct state maintenance. The war cost Denmark 8.2 million riksdalers between 1625 and 1627. Ordinary revenue covered little more than a quarter of this sum, while foreign subsidies brought in around 3 million, or about half of what was promised. The Lower Saxons contributed a mere 120,000 rd., obliging Christian to borrow over 2.5 million, chiefly from his mother. This exhausted his reserves, precipitating a crisis after 1627 as the subsidies dried up, while the resumption of Swedish-Polish hostilities caused toll revenues to crash to a third of their pre-war levels.²²

Wallenstein broke convention by insisting on full payment of both wages and rations by the local population, in contravention of imperial law. The Reichstag had ruled in 1570 that soldiers could expect accommodation on the march, but should pay for everything else at pre-arranged prices, or provide receipts. Some effort was made initially to adhere to the rules. Wallenstein’s officers sent the required notification letters (Requisitoriales) to territories on their line of march from Bohemia in 1625 so the local authorities could make arrangements to feed and accommodate them.²³ However, this swiftly became impossible, due to the size of the new army, the rapidity of its advance and, above all, its complete inability to pay its way.

Lack of money widened the gap between the strategic necessity for speed and flexibility, and the limited capacity of the largely agrarian economy to support the army. Military regulations envisaged a daily ration of around 1kg of bread, 0.5–1kg of meat, and about 1.5 litres of wine or twice that quantity of beer. In addition, each soldier was entitled to servis of candles, firewood, salt and, if mounted, fodder at 3.5 litres of oats or their equivalent for his horse. This diet would be supplemented (technically at the soldier’s own expense) with peas, beans and semolina eaten with the meat, plus cabbage or sauerkraut and dried fruit depending on the season, as well as butter and eggs when available. Accepting that much of the meat ration was delivered as inedible bone and gristle, the allowance was still higher in protein than an average peasant’s diet and provided 3,000 calories daily.²⁴

Most soldiers were obliged to share their food with their dependants. The number and composition of these ‘camp followers’ are two of the least studied aspects of the war. Many later commentators have seized on remarks from critics such as Wallhausen or Gronsfeld to suggest there were three to four non-combatants for every soldier. Surviving musters suggest a more common ratio of one to one, but sometimes as low as four soldiers to one non-combatant.²⁵ Around half of the followers were women, often legally married to the soldiers, or widows, as well as captives and prostitutes. The latter had received official protection a century before, but were now the target of punitive regulations, influenced by the new moral vigour following the Reformation and the practical efforts to restrict the size of the ‘baggage’ which, as Bernhard of Weimar argued, was ‘the root of the disorder and cause of confusion in the army’.²⁶ Other women led a more independent existence as sutlers, fencing stolen goods and selling alcohol and other supplies like Mother Courage, one of Grimmelshausen’s characters now better known through the later dramatization by Berthold Brecht. Eyewitnesses report women carrying children in bundles on their heads to leave their arms free for more bags.²⁷ Women also helped to forage and clean clothes, and provided the mainstay of the rudimentary medical service. The other followers were ‘boys’, generally teenagers who carried weapons and looked after the horses. Many later became soldiers, like Grimmelshausen’s semi-autobiographical character Simplicissimus who became a servant and then a musketeer after his home was plundered.

Though excluded from official allowances, the numerous camp followers undoubtedly increased the actual demand on resources. A peasant family could consider itself fortunate if it had sufficient surplus after tax and rent to feed itself between each harvest. At best, a large farm might have stored the equivalent of 3,000 rations – the daily requirement of a full-strength imperial infantry regiment. Even a modest town was unlikely to contain enough food for more than a few days for a larger force. Matters worsened if the local population hid their supplies, or took them with them as they fled to the woods, marshes or nearest fortified city. Already in 1625, Mainz officials reported that villagers faced ‘total ruin’ as Wallenstein’s regiments marched through.²⁸ Fear bleeds through the pages of contemporary correspondence as the authorities grasped at every rumour of troop movements in desperate attempts to take precautions.

Wallenstein began recruiting in June 1625, but did not issue his pay and ration regulations until he occupied Halberstadt that November. The ‘contributions’ he demanded prior to then were close to what contemporaries termed ‘fire taxes’ (Brandschatzung) due to the consequences of non-payment. These were levied on areas threatened but not actually occupied by troops. The Dutch and Spanish had already threatened raids to extort money from German communities after 1575. Wallenstein used the muster system to force such payments from the wealthy south German trading cities that agreed to pay lump sums in return for his rescinding authorization to colonels to muster new units within their territories. He used this method throughout his first generalship, extracting at least 440,000 fl. from Nuremberg alone. The cities agreed because these payments were still less than the cost and destruction that invariably followed actual occupation.

What contemporaries came to call ‘contributions’ were a more regular form of this initial extortion. The army would conclude a formal agreement with the authorities of a particular territory that would pay regular monthly instalments to troops who were not necessarily in occupation. In return, commanders would issue protection warrants (Salva guardias), exempting the population from further burdens and promising good behaviour of any soldiers left behind to safeguard payment. Wallenstein employed this method as operations extended into the minor Upper Saxon territories after March 1626 and into Brandenburg that autumn. The ducal parts of Holstein were included after September 1627, despite an explicit imperial guarantee to the contrary, while around 12,000 men occupied Württemberg earlier in July, extending the system to south-west Germany. It was imposed on Pomerania in the Franzburg convention with its duke in November 1627 and on Mecklenburg after its occupation the following month. In this form, contributions were a device to expropriate existing territorial taxes. Brandenburg simply diverted payment from the elector to the occupying imperial forces after November 1627. Pomerania secured a notable exception to provide contributions in kind, introducing new taxes to buy grain that was collected in local magazines before distribution to the soldiers. The same method was used in the Habsburg hereditary lands, notably in Silesia where the Estates authorized the customary direct levy in June 1627 but renamed it ‘Soldier Tax’ and collected it weekly, rather than in the usual larger, but less frequent instalments.²⁹

‘Contributions’ as understood in later historical literature were actually a form of billeting. Colonels were allowed to collect food at rates specified in the Halberstadt ordinance direct from the communities lodging their men. There was a considerable overlap between this and the negotiated contributions, particularly since the latter involved quotas calculated according to the regulation food and wage bill. The distinction was that negotiated contributions were intended to continue once the main force had left, whereas billeting often assumed a more improvised character, as units switched quarters. It frequently proved difficult to extract contributions once the army had left, so the soldiers took hostages to ensure compliance. Failure to pay had little to do with religious or political motivation, but followed the sheer impossibility of paying sums exceeding local resources. For example, the Franzburg convention with Pomerania specified monthly instalments of 40,000 talers intended to maintain 22,000 men, whereas the usual annual tax bill was only 90,000. By 1630, it was claimed the duchy was occupied by 7,540 cavalry and 31,500 infantry and that these had cost the eastern half alone over 6.6 million talers since their arrival.³⁰

Lack of accountability made matters worse. Staff work was not as rudimentary as sometimes claimed and efforts were made to keep accounts and liaise with civil authorities. Nonetheless, colonels were allowed considerable leeway and often arrived unannounced, or with far more soldiers than expected. They routinely extorted further sums in return for maintaining discipline, even when their men subsequently ignored the regulations. Frequently, official demands were deliberately inflated by the officer sent to negotiate, who would then pocket a present from a grateful community in return for agreeing a more reasonable sum. Additional demands were imposed, especially for clothing and transport, while even the wealthiest dukes and princes were not above helping themselves to extra luxuries.³¹

Profiteering was rife, though few made large fortunes. Fritz Redlich’s now classic study of the ‘company economy’ overemphasizes the mercantile character of mercenary recruitment.³² Officers frequently paid for weapons and clothing, but it is clear these were also provided from state magazines and through centralized procurement. Profits, such as they were, came incrementally by accumulating bribes, plunder and other chicanery like drawing rations for non-existent soldiers. Such money was just as easily lost, either through personal folly, usually gambling, or misfortune, especially following a defeat. Captured officers generally had to pay their own ransoms until the 1640s, when prisoner exchanges became more common. Governments frequently failed to pay salaries or reimburse legitimate expenses. As we shall see, the main sources of mutinies in the last two decades of the war were unpaid officers who stirred discontent among the soldiers. Capital accumulation was rarely a personal goal and few officers had a merchant’s head for business.³³ Money provided the means to further a career intended to enhance status. Real wealth still came from land, though, as possession grew more precarious after 1631, prudent profiteers like Aldringen invested cash with bankers in safer locations.

The hierarchical, corporate character of society ensured burdens were distributed unequally. Agreements like the Franzburg convention exempted nobles, princely residences, privileged towns, the clergy, university staff and other professional groups. Magistrates and urban officials were usually exempt from billeting, inclining them to be more accommodating to officers’ demands, conscious of the soldiers’ ability to devastate vineyards and other assets belonging to richer burghers beyond the walls. This helps explain the social tension generated by sieges where the poor were often the most determined to resist, knowing they lacked the means to buy protection if the soldiers captured their town. Resistance entailed considerable risks. Piccolomini fined the Pomeranian town of Stargard 10,000 talers after an ensign was killed trying to enter. However, such violence was relatively rare (see Chapter 22). Towns offering armed resistance were generally assisted by regular garrisons, though their inhabitants were exposed like the soldiers to plunder and massacre if they failed to surrender before the besiegers broke in.

The decentralized character of Wallenstein’s system is widely interpreted as ‘privatizing’ war, enabling still underdeveloped states like the Habsburg monarchy to raise large armies without concomitant expansion of their administrative and fiscal structures. Contributions and military contracting thus become temporary expedients along a linear path of modernization, employed until the state was sufficiently developed to ‘renationalize’ warfare.³⁴ This is misleading, since it distracts attention from the continued significance of regular taxation, as well as the client-patron relationship between the emperor and his officers. Even where existing fiscal structures collapsed under the strain, the army still relied on civil officials to find money and billets. Plunder could not make war pay and restricted the size of armies. It was wasteful and inefficient in the short term, as soldiers either gorged themselves, throwing away what they could not immediately consume, or failed to find the food and valuables civilians had carefully hidden. In the longer term, plunder was self-destructive as normal economic activity ceased and resources disappeared. Local chronicles are littered with accounts of garrisons crammed into a few remaining houses after the soldiers had broken the others up for firewood. Above all, soldiers were largely outsiders, without local knowledge of hiding places or an area’s real wealth. Contribution and billeting demands were presented as lump sums, leaving it to local officials to work out who provided what in their community. Officials were caught between the officers’ incessant demands and the inhabitants’ pleas to be spared. Territorial administration undoubtedly broke down in many areas during the 1630s and it became hard to fill vacancies left by officials who had been killed or simply given up. Officials also falsified accounts and sometimes collaborated with officers in dividing up the spoils. The overall impression, however, is of a group of underpaid, poorly supported men struggling to do their best in fearful times. One Hohenlohe steward diligently kept his accounts despite his office being ransacked eight times by rival forces.³⁵

The mounting burdens nevertheless corroded established relationships after 1625. If some people secured exemption, or shirked their share, the burden fell harder on the rest of the community. Good neighbourliness broke down as families denounced those suspected of falsifying tax returns. The overriding desire to minimize violence compelled authorities to abandon previous patterns of benevolence. Rulers and landlords had generally accepted reduced returns during subsistence and other crises in the sixteenth century, allowing their subjects time to recover. Such tolerance was now impossible, as military demands brooked no delay. Even comparatively small territories like the county of Hohenlohe were compelled to place their rudimentary fiscal systems on a firmer footing, and pursued collection ruthlessly to forestall the greater evil of military reprisals.³⁶

Wallenstein boasted he would maintain the army without drawing on the already overstretched Habsburg treasury, but in practice he relied heavily on the monarchy’s existing taxes. The treasury had already admitted the impossibility of sustaining the enlarged army in November 1626.³⁷Regular Habsburg taxation nonetheless continued to provide 1.2 million fl. annually to maintain the Military Frontier, as well as supplying 4 million fl. from 1625 to 1630 to Wallenstein, who received Spanish subsidies worth 3 million in the same period.³⁸ The cash flowed into Wallenstein’s war chest, which was also full of money extorted from cities and territories in return for exempting them from mustering and billets.

The cash was used to finance operations and bulk purchases of artillery and munitions, as well as underpin vital credit arrangements. Credit was present already in the money advanced by Wallenstein to his colonels, the Habsburg treasury and even the emperor, paying, for example, for Ferdinand’s attendance at the Regensburg congress which terminated Wallenstein’s first generalship in 1630. These advances totalled 6.95 million fl. by 1628, financed by Wallenstein’s private fortune and loans raised by his banker, Jan de Witte, a Calvinist refugee from Antwerp who had settled in Prague and made large profits providing credit to Rudolf II. Witte offered the antidote to the cash-flow impasse threatening to choke Wallenstein’s system. Taxes and contributions usually fell short and arrived late. Aschersleben was supposed to pay 106,400 fl. at the end of 1625, but delivered only 40,000 after 28 weeks, while payments from Brandenburg dried up after the first four months in 1627. Witte provided bridging loans, initially secured on specific sources of future revenue, but soon tied only to Wallenstein’s personal guarantee. The intricate credit network extended to 67 cities, from London to Constantinople, operating through middlemen so that many lenders had no idea where their money was really heading. In return for a 2.5 per cent cut, Witte paid regular monthly instalments only partially recouped from remittances from Wallenstein’s war chest.³⁹

The system was inherently unsound. Unlike Dutch borrowing that was sustained by an expanding economy, the emperor had no means of repaying the total liability. In addition to the money claimed by Wallenstein, Ferdinand owed 912,000 fl. to Merode, Arnim and Adolf of Holstein by 1628. Meanwhile the army reached a total of over 100,000 men, the largest force yet seen in Central Europe. The growing crisis exposed the system’s true foundation – the personal relationship between the emperor, his general and the officers. Though Ferdinand lacked money, he remained feudal overlord with the final say over possession of rights and properties. Confiscation of rebel property in the Habsburgs’ hereditary lands had already sustained the imperial war effort before 1625. Land was sold to raise money for current expenses or distributed in lieu of pay and arrears. Ferdinand and his successor, Ferdinand III, skilfully manipulated every aspect of their prerogatives to maximize the value of such transactions. While some particularly urgent or deserving cases received land immediately, others were put on waiting lists attached to particular properties that meanwhile provided revenue to the treasury. Places on such lists became exchangeable commodities that could be traded or inherited, always subject to imperial approval. Fees were deducted each time, allowing the emperor to reduce his existing liabilities, or offset new ones. Even when an individual received sole entitlement, more money could be deducted for formal enfeoffment, or special privileges such as elevating the property’s status, as with Wallenstein’s duchy of Friedland.⁴⁰

Political Repercussions

Property confiscation had already been extended to the Rhineland in the wake of Tilly’s victories over the paladins, while the spread of the war to north Germany opened fresh possibilities to redistribute power to Ferdinand’s supporters. Protests at the material damage accumulated as soon as Wallenstein marched from Bohemia in September 1625. The duke of Coburg complained that imperial officers behaved in his territory ‘as if in a self-service inn’.⁴¹ Such complaints were sincerely meant and have attracted most of the historical interest, but it was the political repercussions that proved really controversial because the redistribution of land and resources fundamentally shifted power in the Empire.

Following the earlier pattern, Ferdinand placed Christian IV under the imperial ban in December 1625, ordering all inhabitants of the Empire to refrain from assisting him or face similar consequences.⁴² As the military situation improved, commissioners were appointed by the Reichshofrat from February 1628 to seize estates in Westphalia and Lower Saxony from officers serving in Christian’s army. Land worth at least 740,000 fl. had been sequestrated by June 1630, while other property was confiscated in the royal Danish parts of Holstein and the Jutland peninsula. More seriously, the commissioners were empowered to proceed against those princes who failed to submit to Ferdinand’s mandate. Finance, politics and religion intersected in the fates of Magdeburg and Halberstadt. Lying either side of the Elbe between neutral Brandenburg and the Danish army occupying the Guelph duchies, these two ecclesiastical territories secured Christian’s eastern flank. Wallenstein’s approach in October 1625 prompted their Lutheran administrator, Christian Wilhelm of Brandenburg, to join Christian IV, immediately providing Ferdinand with the excuse to sequestrate his territories.

These provided Wallenstein with welcome billets as winter approached, as well as a forward base linked by the Elbe to Bohemia where he organized a form of command economy in his enormous personal territory of Friedland. Certain sectors there, like iron production, supplied the army directly, but generally Wallenstein conserved Friedland’s resources. Troops were also instructed to avoid this Terra Felix, while he spent lavishly on a new palace at its capital, Gitschin, as well as on another in Prague.⁴³

Meanwhile, he secured Tilly’s agreement to remain west of the Leine that winter, reserving Magdeburg and Halberstadt for imperial troops, and allowing Ferdinand to trump the Wittelsbachs in the scramble for the bishoprics. The emperor had already deferred to the Bavarians that October when he recognized Ferdinand of Cologne’s cousin, Franz von Wartenberg, as the new bishop of Osnabrück.⁴⁴ The emperor had his own family to consider, and wanted Magdeburg and Halberstadt for his younger son, Leopold Wilhelm. Though not ordained until 1638, Wartenberg was already an experienced administrator and 21 years older than his Habsburg rival. Local Catholics and the pope recognized his genuine religious zeal, leading to prolonged wrangling over who should be elected. Wallenstein had little enthusiasm for the emperor’s plans as these would curtail his exploitation of the bishoprics’ resources. The Halberstadt cathedral chapter eventually elected Leopold Wilhelm in December 1627, but the Protestant canons in Magdeburg chose August of Sachsen-Weissenfels, Johann Georg of Saxony’s second son. Magdeburg itself defied all parties, refusing to admit an imperial garrison in a stand-off lasting until May 1631.

DENMARK’S DEFEAT 1626–9

The Battle of Dessau Bridge

Christian IV’s ratification of The Hague alliance in March 1626 committed Denmark irrevocably to war. His dwindling funds increased his dependency on his unreliable allies and made it harder to impose his authority on the generals who joined him. Contributions did not free armies from supply lines, despite claims to the contrary.⁴⁵ Armies got larger, but the field force remained the same as the additional troops were deployed to secure bases supplying money and food. There was also a tendency, already present in 1626, to remain in billets as long as possible to recuperate at the locals’ expense. It proved difficult to amass supplies during winter to support operations beyond the zones of contribution, especially as uncertainty surrounding the enemy’s intentions left it unclear where to place stockpiles. The lull in the fighting provided a chance for negotiations that were a constant feature of the entire war. The aborted Brunswick talks already reopened in May 1626 and resumed in September after that summer’s campaign, continuing intermittently throughout 1627. Operations were essentially intended to secure local military advantage to lend weight to these negotiations and compel the other side to be more reasonable.

Christian was obliged to concentrate his main army of 20,000 men at Wolfenbüttel early in 1626 to intimidate the Guelphs and keep Wallenstein and Tilly divided. Wallenstein was at Halberstadt to the south-east with roughly the same number of troops, while Tilly with slightly less stood on the Weser to the west with the Harz mountains between them. Christian sent Johann Ernst of Weimar with a small detachment across the Weser to distract Tilly and try to capture Osnabrück. Duke Christian mustered at Göttingen ready to push south into Hessen where Count Philipp Reinhard of Solms had collected 4,000 peasants. Aware that Landgrave Moritz would join them if they got through, Tilly wanted to take Münden, Northeim and Göttingen to secure the frontier and protect Hessen, which continued to pay a large part of his army.

Tilly’s refusal to cross the Harz mountains to join Wallenstein disheartened the imperial commander, who tendered his resignation no less than six times between February and March 1626 in protest at the imperial treasury’s abject failure to provide funds. Wallenstein was also concerned at a new threat to his forward base from Mansfeld, who now had 12,000 men at Lauenburg on the Elbe ready to invade Brandenburg and turn his flank. Ferdinand had no desire to spread the war into Upper Saxony and ordered Wallenstein to remain west of the Elbe where he began operations around Goslar against Duke Christian. He was forced to turn back in mid-February when Mansfeld advanced along the right bank of the Elbe through western Brandenburg, while a small Danish corps under Fuchs followed west of the Elbe. Mansfeld announced he was coming to liberate the archbishopric of Magdeburg and began occupying Anhalt territory east of the river. Wallenstein soon chased away Fuchs, but learned that Mansfeld was threatening his outpost under Aldringen at Rosslau near Dessau, which guarded the only permanent bridge between Magdeburg and Dresden. If this fell, Mansfeld could disrupt supplies from Bohemia to the imperial army.

Mansfeld increased the pressure on Aldringen’s entrenchments on the right bank from 12 April. Wallenstein fed in reinforcements, arriving himself with the main army on 24 April, bringing the defenders up to at least 14,000. Mansfeld had bitten off too much, having quarrelled with Fuchs who was still too far north to help. With only 7,000 men and 25 guns, he was too weak to take the entrenchments. He gambled everything on a final assault at 6 a.m. on 25 April, not realizing that Wallenstein had concealed troops in a wood to the east. These counter-attacked just as Mansfeld’s assault was flagging. Mansfeld’s cavalry fled downstream to Havelberg, abandoning the infantry who surrendered.⁴⁶

The failure to exploit the victory is usually blamed on rivalry between Tilly and Wallenstein and their continued logistical problems. Tilly had been obliged to detach Anholt to clear Osnabrück, while he dealt with Duke Christian in Wallenstein’s absence. The duke’s death on 16 June 1626 temporarily halted Danish operations in the area. Wallenstein eventually met Tilly at Duderstadt near Göttingen on 30 June and secured his agreement to invade Lower Saxony. The attack was delayed by a rebellion in Upper Austria that represented the most substantial popular outburst of unrest to date.

The Upper Austrian Rebellion 1626

In contrast to the situation in 1620, many Protestants in Upper Austria were now prepared to condone rebellion, especially when it defended their faith. Religious grievances certainly helped spark the unrest.⁴⁷ Ferdinand expected the Bavarian governor of Upper Austria, Herberstorff, himself a convert from Lutheranism, to enforce the re-Catholicization measures. Pastors and teachers were expelled in October 1624, a fine of 1 million fl. was imposed in 1625 on those accused of supporting the revolt in 1618, and all Protestants were told to convert or leave. The measures stirred opposition, especially among the province’s Estates that had run a campaign to discredit Herberstorff in order to deflect local criticism of their failure in 1620. Duke Maximilian had no desire to disturb Upper Austria since he depended on its taxpayers to clear the huge war indemnity agreed in 1623 with Ferdinand. The fine was moderated to 600,000 fl. and the Bavarian garrison reduced to 5,000 men.

It is difficult to gauge exactly what the peasants wanted since their demands were written down by a former judge and a lawyer who may or may not have been reflecting their feelings. The document attacked the new ‘Reformation mandate’ Ferdinand obliged Herberstorff to issue on 10 October 1625 extending the deadline for conversion until Easter 1626. The principal criticism was that the authorities were placing re-Catholicization before good government and failing to address real grievances – peasant indebtedness and business failures had soared after the hyperinflation of 1622. The re-Catholicization measures also hit communal autonomy by taking schools and village funds from local hands, while many wanted to replace clerical with peasant representation on the Estates. Contemporary broadsheets drew parallels with the Peasants War, displaying images of the 1525 leaders but with the weapons and demands of 1626.⁴⁸

The rising was planned like that in 1595. Stefan Fadinger, a wealthy farmer, conspired with his brother-in-law, the innkeeper Christoph Zeller, but the outbreak began prematurely after a brawl with Bavarian soldiers in Lembach on 17 May 1626. The rebels drew on the experience of the 1611 Passau emergency and the 1619–20 revolt, using the provincial militia system to mobilize 40,000 men from a population of only 300,000. They lacked artillery and cavalry until some burghers declared their support. Three nobles also joined, including Achaz Wiellinger who took command once Fadinger was killed, but the local Protestant elite otherwise abstained, believing the rising would fail and only harm their interests. The movement remained decentralized, with individual bands led by men who were increasingly embittered. Some were militants, like the trainee pastor simply known as ‘Student’ whom the authorities thought was deranged. However, popular Lutheranism expressed demands for wider liberties, as it had in 1525.

The rising began in the north-west corner of Upper Austria either side of the Danube near the Bavarian border. Herberstorff marched out of Linz to suppress it, but was ambushed by Zeller at Peuerbach where most of his men were massacred on 21 May. Herberstorff escaped to Linz but his hold on the town was undermined by widespread sympathy among its inhabitants for the rebels outside. Like so many early modern rebels, Fadinger and Zeller squandered their initial advantage by roaming the countryside gathering further support. Herberstorff opened talks on 25 May to buy time, and the peasants were prepared to pay the 1623 mortgage to redeem the province for Ferdinand, provided the emperor granted religious toleration. The truce was broken by frequent skirmishes in which Fadinger and Zeller were killed. The peasant army on the heights above Linz was further demoralized by minor reverses inflicted by small imperial and Liga columns operating from Bohemia and Bavaria.

Maximilian assembled 8,000 men, half of them recruits, in Bavaria south of the Danube. Their advance on 18 September ended the truce, but they were routed within days by the peasants in the mountains along the frontier. Maximilian summoned General Pappenheim who advanced with 4,750 men from Passau to relieve Linz on 4 November. Reinforced by the Linz garrison and a small imperial detachment, Pappenheim subdued the area south of the Danube in four hard-fought battles, killing 12,000 rebels. Resistance collapsed, enabling Herberstorff to arrest 100 alleged leaders. It proved impossible to find evidence against Upper Austrian nobles other than Wiellinger who was executed along with over twenty others. Fadinger’s corpse was even exhumed so it could be hanged. Ferdinand refused to impose renewed fines and delayed the re-Catholicization measures until 1631.

Political Uncertainty

In the meantime, Christian IV had remained inactive at Wolfenbüttel, accepting the resumption of Saxon mediation in May. He faced the same difficulty that would confront Gustavus Adolphus in 1630: how to win the wider German support necessary to defeat the emperor. Christian needed Hessen’s support to go south and Brandenburg’s agreement to move east. Hessen refused to declare its hand without a Danish victory, while Elector Georg Wilhelm took a dim view of Mansfeld’s incursions.

Calvinists held the majority on the Brandenburg privy council, led by Chancellor Pruckmann who declared ‘this is a religious war’. They were blocked by the Lutheran old guard around the elector’s mother and Count Adam Schwarzenberg, the only Catholic councillor. (Gustavus Adolphus told the Calvinists they ‘should defenestrate the count and treat him in the Bohemian manner’.) ⁴⁹ The Lutherans shared the elector’s doubts about the war’s alleged religious dimension, while Schwarzenberg believed the emperor would reward Brandenburg if it supported him. Wallenstein’s victory at Dessau Bridge increased the pressure on Brandenburg and was quietly welcomed in Dresden, where Johann Georg gave the Imperialists permission to cross Saxony if Mansfeld moved east.

Having rebuilt his army to 10,000, and backed by 7,000 Danes under Johann Ernst of Weimar, Mansfeld unexpectedly left Havelberg on 11 July, skirting Berlin to the north to reach the Oder, where he turned south to enter Silesia nine days later having covered 250km. The Silesian militia crumbled, allowing him to overrun the province and head for Upper Hungary. This bold stroke opened a new front and renewed the possibility of Transylvanian intervention. Bethlen had just been admitted to The Hague alliance, having improved his standing by marrying Georg Wilhelm of Brandenburg’s sister, Katharina, in March. Wallenstein had not expected Mansfeld to recover so quickly. Aware of the power struggle in Berlin, he hesitated to weaken the pro-imperial faction by infringing Brandenburg neutrality. After three weeks it became obvious where Mansfeld was headed, and Wallenstein set off in pursuit with 20,000 men, leaving 16,000 to protect his base and cooperate with Tilly.

The Battle of Lutter

The latter had methodically reduced the three strongholds of Münden, Northeim and Goöttingen held by the Protestant forces between Lower Saxony and Hessen-Kassel. Münden was stormed in early July, losing between two- and four-fifths of its 2,500 inhabitants who were massacred as Liga troops plundered the town.⁵⁰ Tilly then brought in Harz miners to dig under the defensive ditch at Göttingen to drain the water from it. A relief force under the Rheingraf (Raugrave) Salm-Kyrburg was ambushed and scattered at Rössing on 27 July. Göttingen capitulated on 11 August 1626, having resisted for seven weeks. Christian IV hastened south to save his last garrison at Northeim, but failed to stop Aldringen joining Tilly with 4,300 Imperialists. The king retired north through Seesen on 25 August, intending to escape to Wolfenbüttel. His decision depressed Danish morale and revived Tilly’s flagging spirits. The Liga army harried the Danish retreat, cutting off parties left to delay its pursuit. King Christian faced the same dilemma as his namesake had at Höchst and Stadtlohn of whether to jettison his valuable baggage. He chose not to, and the wagons soon jammed the Wolfenbüttel road where it crossed thick woods north-east of Lutter-am-Barenberge. Christian was forced to deploy early on Thursday 27 August, hoping a more substantial rearguard action would dislodge the pursuit. Tilly had no intention of giving up and sought a decisive battle.

Both armies numbered about 20,000, though the Danes had a few more cannon. Their position lay in a cleared valley surrounded by forest. The recent hot weather had dried the Neile stream on the Danish right, though the Hummecke stream to their front and left appears still to have been wet.⁵¹ Tilly brought up his heavy guns, protected by musketeers, to bombard the Danes while the rest of his army came up around noon. His men ate lunch while the Danes waited uneasily in the rain. Anholt opened the main action early in the afternoon by crossing the Hummecke and attacking the Danish left. Christian had gone ahead to disentangle

the baggage train, without making it clear who commanded in his absence. Landgrave Moritz’s younger son, Philipp, made an unauthorized counter-attack in an attempt to silence the bombardment. Meanwhile, detachments sent earlier by Tilly worked their way through the woods to turn both Danish flanks. The Danes wavered around 4 p.m., enabling Tilly’s centre to cross the stream and capture their artillery. The Danish royal escort successfully charged to cover the retreat of the second and third lines, but the first was unable to disengage and had to surrender. Christian lost up to 3,000 dead, including Philipp of Hessen-Kassel, General Fuchs and other senior officers. Another 2,000 deserted, while 2,500 were captured along with all the artillery and much of the baggage, including two wagons loaded with gold. Tilly lost around 700 killed and wounded.

Christian blamed Duke Friedrich Ulrich who had withdrawn the Wolfenbüttel contingent four days earlier. The Danes burned 24 villages around Wolfenbüttel and plundered their way across Lüneburg as they retreated to Verden. The Guelphs negotiated the bloodless evacuation of Hanover and other towns, and assisted the imperial blockade of the Danes still holding Wolfenbüttel itself. The victory boosted Tilly’s prestige and enabled his beloved nephew Werner to marry the daughter of the wealthy Karl Liechtenstein. The Liga army swiftly overran the archbishopric of Bremen and sent a detachment into Brandenburg to encourage Georg Wilhelm to recognize Maximilian as an elector. However, Tilly’s troops were entering an area already eaten out by the Danes. Christian offered 6 talers to every deserter who rejoined his army and most of the 2,100 prisoners pressed into the Liga ranks promptly left. Weak and exhausted, Tilly’s troops could not deliver the knock-out blow. Conditions deteriorated over the winter, and the Bavarian Schönburg cavalry regiment took to highway robbery to sustain itself.⁵²

Mansfeld’s Last Campaign

Lutter prevented Christian sending aid to Mansfeld who was now cut off in Upper Hungary. It is likely that Wallenstein deliberately delayed his pursuit until Mansfeld had gone too far to turn back. His gamble paid off, as Mansfeld was stuck in the Tatra mountains waiting for Bethlen, who was typically late. Despite the numerous exiles with his army, the Bohemian and Moravian peasants refused to follow the Upper Austrian example and remained loyal to the emperor. Those of Upper Hungary hid their harvest before Mansfeld and Johann Ernst of Weimar arrived. Mansfeld lost faith that Bethlen would appear and decided to cut his losses and dash across Bohemia to Upper Austria where the rising was still under way. Johann Ernst, though, still trusted Bethlen and thought Mansfeld’s plan too risky.

Wallenstein crossed Silesia in the second half of August and marched past his opponents to the Military Frontier where the Turks were harassing the forts. This show of force was sufficient to deter the pasha of Buda from helping Bethlen, who agreed a truce with the emperor on 11 November. Hardship, disease and desertion had reduced Mansfeld’s and Johann Ernst’s forces to 5,400. Having quarrelled with the duke, Mansfeld set out with a small escort intending to cross the mountains and escape to Venice. Though only 46, he was crippled by asthma, heart trouble, typhus and the advanced stages of tuberculosis. Insisting on standing up, he allegedly met his end fully armed when death caught him in a village near Sarajevo on 14 December. Johann Ernst died of plague just two weeks later.⁵³

Bethlen had waited until the harvest was in before advancing to meet Mansfeld with 12,000 cavalry and a similar number of Turkish auxiliaries. The latter had already left by the time Mansfeld reached Upper Hungary and Bethlen’s operations ran parallel with his talks with Ferdinand’s representatives. The truce was confirmed as the Peace of Pressburg on 20 December that accepted revisions to the Treaty of Nikolsburg in Ferdinand’s favour. The pasha of Buda had already suspended operations, and renewed the 1606 truce at Zsön in September 1627.

Bethlen remained untrustworthy; he offered his light cavalry to Gustavus Adolphus for his war against Poland, but died on 15 November 1629 before agreement could be reached. His erstwhile lieutenant, György Rákóczi, staged a coup in September 1630, displacing Bethlen’s widow Katharina who was negotiating to accept Habsburg overlordship. Transylvania was plunged into internal strife from which Rákóczi emerged triumphant in 1636 thanks to his closer ties to the sultan and the local Calvinist clergy.⁵⁴

Many felt that Wallenstein should have defeated Bethlen rather than negotiate with him. Wallenstein defended himself against his critics at the Bruck conference in November 1626 and his extended visit to Vienna the following April, securing a free hand for the coming campaign. His success prompted Georg Wilhelm of Brandenburg to declare for the emperor. The elector had gone east to Prussia, taking only Schwarzenberg with him. Free from his Calvinist councillors in Berlin, he signed an alliance in May 1627. Winterfeld, the Brandenburg envoy who had worked indefatigably from 1624 to 1626 to forge a Protestant alliance, was arrested three months later on trumped-up charges of treason. The alliance allowed an imperial corps under Arnim across Brandenburg to Frankfurt on the Oder to trap the remnants of Mansfeld’s army holding out in the Silesian fortresses.

These had come under the command of Joachim von Mitzlaff, a Pomeranian in Danish service, who managed to rebuild the army to 13,400 and organize an effective base in the Upper Silesian mountains around Troppau and Jägerndorf.⁵⁵ Wallenstein concentrated 40,000 men at Neisse in June 1627. As his fortresses surrendered one by one, Mitzlaff headed north with 4,000 cavalry hoping to dodge past Arnim. Wallenstein sent Merode and Colonel Pechmann after him, who caught and destroyed his detachment on 3 August. Mitzlaff escaped, but numerous Bohemian exiles were captured, including Wallenstein’s cousin Christoph whom he imprisoned. Wallenstein then marched north-west across Brandenburg towards Lauenburg, despatching Arnim northwards into Mecklenburg.

The mounting reverses encouraged Christian IV to resume negotiations. Ferdinand was known to be planning a conference to confirm the decisions of the Regensburg princes’ congress of 1623 as the basis for a general peace. He knew that the Palatinate and its Stuart backers would have to be included and accordingly welcomed an initiative from Württemberg and Lorraine to host talks at Colmar in Alsace in July 1627. Christian urged Frederick V to accept the emperor’s terms, since this would enable him to make peace without losing face. Frederick at last gave real ground, offering to renounce Bohemia, accept Maximilian as an elector, provided the title reverted to the Palatinate on his death, and to submit to imperial authority by proxy to avoid personal humiliation. Agreement was close since Ferdinand would probably have dropped his demand for reparations if Frederick had swallowed his pride and submitted in person. This was too much to ask, however, and the talks collapsed on 18 July.⁵⁶

The 1627 Campaign

Christian was obliged to fight on, receiving some reinforcements from Britain and France. The 5,000 British and Dutch auxiliaries were posted on the lower Weser with outposts at Nienburg and Wolfenbüttel, while the main army of 15,000 held the Elbe at Lauenburg. Margrave Georg Friedrich arrived to assume command of the remaining 10,000 troops at Havelberg, covering the east. The fortresses of Glückstadt, Krempe and Pinneburg north of the Elbe defended the western approach to Holstein, while Rendsburg to the north secured the entrance to the Jutland peninsula. The weak spot lay to the south-east between neutral Hamburg and the Baltic, which was protected only by Trittau castle and the Holstein militia.

Operations started late, with Tilly not advancing from the Aller towards the Elbe until 15 July, leaving Pappenheim to besiege Wolfenbüttel and sending Anholt to take Nienburg and the other positions along the Weser, while Duke Georg of Lüneburg attacked Havelberg. Georg Friedrich abandoned Havelberg once he learned of Mitzlaff’s defeat, and retreated north across Mecklenburg to Poel island off Wismar, where he waited five weeks for transport ships to evacuate him to Holstein. Wallenstein arrived with his army from Silesia, sending Schlick to pursue the margrave, while he pressed on through the now open Danish eastern flank. Meanwhile, Tilly outwitted Christian, feinting towards Lauenburg and then crossing the Elbe upstream at Bleckede. Monro records a heroic defence of Boitzenburg where 800 Scots allegedly repulsed Tilly, inflicting 2,000 casualties. Though this is accepted by some modern historians, the Danish army was demoralized and in fact offered little resistance.⁵⁷ Christian repeated his mistake at Lutter, leaving the incompetent Bohemian Count Thurn in charge of defence while he went into Holstein to organize reinforcements. Thurn quickly abandoned the Elbe and retreated north-west into Glückstadt. Belated orders were sent to General Morgan to evacuate the British troops defending the Weser before they were cut off. Morgan’s men were unpaid and mutinous. He agreed with the British ambassador to ignore orders and retreat to Stade instead, from where he had a chance of escaping by sea to England.

Wallenstein joined Tilly just north of Lauenburg on 5 September and they overran Holstein in just two weeks. Thurn and the surviving 8,000 Danes fled north, leaving the remaining garrisons to their fate. Pinneburg fell on 28 September, but Wolfenbüttel and Nienburg both resisted until December, while Morgan held Stade until 5 May 1628. The besiegers were unable to enter for three days after he sailed to England, because of the rotting corpses. The Danes could resupply the Glückstadt garrison by sea, while the Elbe flooded on 17 November 1628 and destroyed the imperial siege works there. Tilly was wounded by a musket ball at Pinneburg and spent the rest of the campaign convalescing – it was possibly an excuse not to play second fiddle to Wallenstein who now assumed overall command.⁵⁸

Confusion and mismanagement hindered further defence. Insufficient transport meant Georg Friedrich had to leave 2,000 men on Poel island. He landed with the remaining 6,000 at Heiligenhafen at the tip of a narrow peninsula on the east Holstein coast intending to join Thurn, but the latter’s precipitous retreat enabled Schlick to trap the margrave. The Danes dissolved in panic as the Imperialists bombarded their camp on 26 September 1627. Only 1,000 managed to escape on their ships. Like the fortress garrisons, most of the men who surrendered had not been paid and promptly enlisted in the imperial army.⁵⁹ The fall of Rendsburg on 16 October opened the Danish peninsula to Ferdinand. The local nobles either failed to answer Christian’s summons, or fled as the Imperialists approached, while the peasant militias opposed the Danish authorities. Another 3,000 cavalry got left behind as the main army was evacuated from Ålborg to the Danish islands.

Wallenstein becomes Duke of Mecklenburg

The Danish retreat left Lower Saxony at the mercy of Ferdinand and his allies. The emperor regarded Friedrich Ulrich’s defection just before Lutter as opportunistic and fined him 400,000 talers, lodging a garrison in his capital at Wolfenbüttel to guarantee payment. Other lands were distributed to cope with the army’s mounting pay arrears. Parts of Magdeburg and Halberstadt were assigned to Schlick and Merode, while Wallenstein had already received the Silesian duchy of Sagan in May 1627 in lieu of 150,850 fl. owed him by the emperor. Detachments under Arnim overran Mecklenburg that September after its two dukes supplied troops to Christian and refused to submit to imperial authority.⁶⁰

Rumours of Mecklenburg’s transfer spread after Wallenstein paid a rare visit to the imperial court, and were confirmed when the emperor assigned both it and the neighbouring bishopric of Schwerin to him in February 1628.⁶¹ The arrangement mirrored those over the Upper Palatinate and Lusatia, enabling the Habsburg treasury to write off 4.75 million fl. it owed to Wallenstein, who was not enfeoffed as duke of Mecklenburg until 16 June 1629, a week after its previous rulers were placed under the imperial ban. Wallenstein’s elevation as full imperial prince was unprecedented and immediately controversial. Its full impact can only be appreciated in the context of the sweeping changes in the Empire since 1621. Frederick V, the senior secular elector, had been deposed and his possessions handed to the emperor’s supporters. Though the ban on his most prominent collaborators, Anhalt and Hohenlohe, had been rescinded, the Mecklenburg dukes had joined Georg Friedrich of Baden-Durlach as fugitives. Landgrave Moritz of Hessen-Kassel had been forced to abdicate and Friedrich Ulrich of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel humiliated. The presence of Wallenstein’s troops in Pomerania, Holstein and Württemberg, parts of Brandenburg, Anhalt and other territories suggested further venerable ruling houses would soon lose their possessions. Wallenstein deliberately fostered these fears, partly to deflect criticism from his own elevation, suggesting that Tilly should become duke of Calenberg, while Pappenheim could have Wolfenbüttel.⁶²Coinciding as they did with the growing clamour from the ecclesiastical princes and religious orders to recover church property these developments profoundly alarmed Lutherans, as well as the surviving Calvinists.

The Mühlhausen Electoral Congress

Despite an initial enthusiasm for the restitution of church land (see Chapter 13), the Liga’s leadership shared these concerns. Duke Maximilian especially opposed the expansion of Wallenstein’s army, fearing it would give Ferdinand the means to embroil the Empire in the Dutch War. The integrity of the Liga army was also threatened as its officers defected to imperial service. The military balance prevailing before 1625 had been reversed, as Wallenstein now had three times as many soldiers as Tilly to whom Ferdinand sent orders without consulting Maximilian.

Complaints about the growing military burden after October 1625 frequently failed to distinguish between Liga and imperial units. By 1627 the protests were almost exclusively directed against Wallenstein – not that Tilly’s men behaved any better, but because the issue had become politicized. The three spiritual electors lodged a joint protest at Wallenstein’s conduct of the war on 2 February 1627 and agreed to press the concerns of the other imperial Estates at their forthcoming congress following a petition from Nuremberg.⁶³

The congress had been planned to settle not just the Palatine question and the Danish war, but also the balance between the victorious Catholics. It opened on 18 October and lasted until 12 November 1627, attended in person by the Mainz and Saxon electors, while the others sent representatives. The presence of numerous princely and civic delegations gave it the appearance of a Reichstag and, as the first substantial meeting for four years, it offered an opportunity to debate and criticize Habsburg policy.⁶⁴

Maximilian had already lent his voice to the criticism of Wallenstein in April, but was fatally compromised as the chief beneficiary of the Catholic victories. While concerned at the fate of venerable princely dynasties, he was not above ordering his archivists to investigate possible Bavarian claims to Brandenburg.⁶⁵ Moreover, he could not rock the boat until his own status was secure. Saxony had recognized the transfer of the Palatine title in 1624. Brandenburg accepted it in its treaty with the emperor in May 1627, clearing the way for the next stage to convert it from a purely personal into an hereditary title. For this, Maximilian needed Ferdinand’s consent, as well as that of his fellow electors, obliging him to mute his criticism of the emperor’s general.⁶⁶

Maximilian struck just the right balance, condemning the worst abuses of Wallenstein’s subordinates, while backing the emperor’s political agenda. He was rewarded with recognition as hereditary elector on 12 November, despite Saxon and Brandenburg objections. Bavaria also rid itself of the costly occupation of Upper Austria by relinquishing it to Ferdinand in return for Maximilian’s enfeoffment with the whole Upper and eastern half of the Lower Palatinate on 22 February 1628. The arrangement included the added promise that Ferdinand would repay Bavaria’s war expenses, now set at 13 million fl., if Maximilian subsequently lost these lands. This transfer ran parallel to Wallenstein’s enfeoffment with Mecklenburg, confirming the other princes’ worst fears about Ferdinand’s apparent disregard for their traditional liberties.

The Peace of Lübeck

Christian IV had lost his mainland possessions, but still held out on the Danish islands. The relatively mild winter of 1627–8 enabled his navy to raid imperial positions along the coast, and to retake Fehmarn island, capturing eighty boats Wallenstein had collected to ferry his army across to Copenhagen. The army was rebuilt by extending conscription to Norway and eventually reached 20,000 men, excluding the Glückstadt and Norwegian garrisons. The Danish raids encouraged peasant risings in Ditmarschen, Holstein, parts of Jutland and Nordstrand, one of the Frisian islands off western Schleswig where a third of the 9,000 inhabitants took up arms. Danish troops also intervened in Arnim’s siege of Stralsund, while their warships disrupted Wallenstein’s fledgling imperial navy (see pp.426–8).

Christian attempted to recover a foothold on the mainland by landing with 6,000 men at Wolgast on the Pomeranian coast east of Greifswald. Having abandoned the siege of Stralsund, Wallenstein attacked with 8,000 men on 24 August, trapping the Danes as Schlick had done the year before at Heiligenhafen. Christian’s troops put up stout resistance behind a marsh, enabling their king to escape to his fleet, leaving 1,000 dead and 1,100 captured. He returned in the spring of 1629, landing with 10,000 men on the east coast of Jutland and marching south with the intention of joining Morgan, who had sortied with 4,750 British and Dutch on ships from Glückstadt to land on Nordstrand. Despite detaching troops to assist in a new war in Mantua, Wallenstein was easily able to respond and by 6 June was ready to repeat the entrapment of Wolgast against the new Danish bridgehead.

Fortunately, Christian made peace just in time, accepting the emperor’s revised terms at Lübeck the day before. Pressured by his nobles, the king had reopened talks on 22 January 1629. Wallenstein was eager for peace and had advised Ferdinand to return the conquered Danish provinces without demanding compensation to win Christian as an ally against potential Swedish intervention. In view of the Mantuan crisis, Ferdinand agreed, provided Christian abandoned the Lower Saxons. Christian’s agreement shattered the already battered Hague alliance. Richelieu condemned him as a coward, but to the Danes the peace appeared a gift from heaven and they readily forgot the ideal of Protestant solidarity that, anyway, had not been very prominent in their attitudes to the war.⁶⁷