14

The Lion of the North 1630–2

SWEDISH INTERVENTION

Swedish Preparedness

Few could have predicted that Gustavus’s landing at Usedom off Pomerania on 6 July 1630 would prolong the war another eighteen years. Sweden possessed the technical expertise and manpower for its invasion, but not the resources to sustain it. Gustavus was gambling his country’s fortunes on the chance he could succeed where Christian of Denmark had failed and break south from his bridgehead. The 80,000 men conscripted since 1621 already represented a considerable drain on Sweden’s population. There were 43,000 Swedes and Finns in the army and navy in 1630, as well as 30,000 foreign mercenaries, but no money. The 4,000 cavalry still in Prussia refused to move until they received their 16 months’ pay arrears. Gustavus and Oxenstierna reckoned they needed 75,000 men to conquer the north German coast, plus another 37,000 to protect Sweden’s existing possessions. They planned to attack with 46,000, but lack of transport reduced this to 13,600 who joined the 5,000 already in Stralsund. A second wave of 7,000 arrived in the summer, joining additional German recruits, but even in November the army mustered only 29,000, a third of whom were sick.¹

This was more than Gustavus had commanded before, but whereas he previously faced the outnumbered Poles, he now confronted 50,000 imperial and Liga troops in northern Germany, with around 30,000 more to the west and south. Even without Wallenstein and in their present poor condition, they were formidable opponents. The disparity helps explain why, though concerned, the emperor and electors meeting at Regensburg were not unduly alarmed by his arrival. Gustavus was still to achieve his full fame that has clouded appreciation of the huge risk he was taking. The great run of victories from September 1631 suggests success was inevitable, and has led many military historians to conclude that the Swedish army was inherently superior. Morale was certainly high. To the Swedes and Finns, accustomed to the harsh conditions of the Polish theatre, Germany appeared a land of plenty, despite twelve years of war. The Finnish and Scottish contingents already had a fearsome reputation. Travellers’ tales of strange Scandinavians had piqued interest that grew once Gustavus landed. Hamburg papers reported a contingent of ferocious Laplanders riding reindeer. The Finns were known as ‘Hackapells’ after their war-cry ‘Hack ’em down!’ They were said to possess magical powers to change the weather, or cross rivers without fords. Gustavus exploited this, always appearing accompanied by a detachment of Finnish cavalry and the equally exotic Scottish infantry. His propaganda claimed his men were inured to cold, never mutinied or ran away, survived on minimal rations and worked till they dropped.²

Gustavus had yet to face a ‘western’ opponent. His organization and tactics had been developed to fight the Poles, against whom success had been mixed. He was not an innovator but drew on existing practices, especially those of the Dutch.³ Kirkholm (1605) and other defeats at the hands of the Poles led the Swedes to combine infantry, cavalry and artillery in close support. The famous lightweight leather artillery pieces designed to accompany the infantry were not new: they had been around since the fourteenth century. Nor were they particularly successful and they were abandoned after 1626 in favour of more durable bronze cannon mounted on light carriages weighing just over 280kg and firing a 1.5–2kg ball about 800 metres. These guns could be dragged by three men or one horse to keep pace with the infantry and increase their firepower.⁴ The infantry deployed in brigades of three to four units (called squadrons) of 400 men each, mixed pike and shot, arranged in chequerboard formation for mutual support. Additional musketeers were detached to support the cavalry, sometimes also accompanied by the light cannon. Later writers stress speed and decisiveness, but in fact these tactics were defensive, developed to repel the superior Polish cavalry. The musketeer detachments were to help the cavalry disrupt an enemy attack through firepower and only then would the horsemen counter-charge. The infantry were trained by 1631 to fire by salvo, or general discharge, designed to maximize the psychological impact on the enemy prior to a counter-attack. Cavalry and infantry formations were thinned to only six ranks to increase firepower and extend their frontage to prevent their being outflanked. These tactics were largely unproven and the Swedes arrived in Germany having been routed at Stuhm, their last major engagement.

Strategy and Objectives

Hindsight also distorts assessment of Swedish strategy and aims. Gustavus’s principal biographer presents Swedish expansion across Germany as a strategy that followed carefully planned stages intended to culminate in an invasion of the Habsburg hereditary lands. But the king in fact landed with a map that extended only to the Saxon frontier and when he reached that, he had his cartographers make a new one to cover the area to the south.⁵

The aims were also improvised. Certainly, Gustavus had long resolved on war and deliberately ignored chances to avoid it. Intervention in Germany had been considered in December 1627 when Oxenstierna managed to persuade the king to settle with Poland first, opening negotiations in February that concluded in the Truce of Altmark. Representatives were sent to the Lübeck conference, but were turned away since Sweden was not party to Denmark’s war with the emperor. Denmark nonetheless sought to improve Swedish-imperial relations and the emperor sent envoys to Danzig in April 1630. Sweden consented to talks to alarm France into improving its alliance offer, and to demonstrate its alleged willingness to embrace peace. In fact, Oxenstierna had already spoken openly ‘of the forthcoming campaign’ to the English ambassador, Sir Thomas Roe, in January 1630.⁶ The Council of State reluctantly agreed an offensive war in April, accepting Gustavus’s claim that it was necessary to avenge the humiliation suffered by his representatives at Lübeck. The king strung the Danes and emperor along with various excuses to delay the Danzig talks before finally presenting totally unacceptable demands in June to ensure they collapsed just before his troops landed.

Gustavus expected the emperor to withdraw from northern Germany without himself evacuating Stralsund. Exactly what he wanted beyond this is a matter of conjecture, since he never presented Ferdinand with precise terms. Public statements, like his famous manifesto, were propaganda intended to justify intervention, not substantiate demands. Written by Salvius and published in German and Latin at Stralsund in June 1630, the manifesto went through 23 editions in 5 languages before the year was out. There were small but significant differences between the versions, reflecting how Sweden wished to present itself to different countries. Gustavus and Oxenstierna made contradictory statements, depending on their audience, while remaining careful not to commit themselves. Ideas were often floated in apparent jest to alarm or test the reaction of allies and enemies, such as the suggestion that Louis XIII might become emperor, while Richelieu could be pope.⁷ The economic motives perceived by some later historians are hard to find. Little effort was made to integrate the German conquests into a Swedish-controlled market.⁸

Protestantism featured in domestic propaganda, but was omitted from the manifesto since intervention had to be presented as confessionally neutral so as not to alienate France. Having been disappointed in Frederick V and Christian IV, Protestant militants placed their hopes in Gustavus as their new saviour. A print issued shortly after his landing shows the king posed heroically in full armour, while his troops disembark in Pomerania. The hand of God reaches from a cloud to give him the sword of divine justice to smite Catholic tyranny. Many Catholics believed this. Abbess Juliane Ernst of the St Ursula convent in Villingen was convinced the duke of Württemberg and other Protestant princes had invited Gustavus ‘for help so that they could get the monasteries back again’.⁹ Gustavus did not intend this. Oxenstierna later admitted that religion was merely a pretext, while Gustavus said that if it had been the cause then he would have declared war on the pope.

The first real motive to be presented in public was ‘security’ (Assecuratio). All the threats cited in the manifesto were already receding: the imperial navy was laid up; Ferdinand had agreed to talks and was in the process of dismissing Wallenstein and reducing the army. What Gustavus wanted was to ensure the emperor was never in a position to pose a danger again. Swedish security thus lay in revising the imperial constitution to emasculate the emperor, and reversing the recent revival of Habsburg power, especially in northern Germany. The details changed with the nature and extent of Swedish involvement. Initially, Gustavus refrained from criticizing Ferdinand and did not declare war. Instead, intervention was cloaked in the humanist argument of assistance to the repressed. This was an extremely weak position since, despite the best efforts of his envoys, Gustavus failed to persuade any Germans other than the Stralsunders to request his help.¹⁰ His claim to the Swedish diet that a state of war existed since Arnim attacked Stralsund deliberately obscured how his envoys had bullied the city council into asking for help in the first place.

To counter Ferdinand’s claim of unprovoked aggression, Gustavus championed German liberties. Swedish propaganda developed the idea that the Empire’s internal balance was essential to European peace. Sweden was thus acting in Europe’s best interests to restore the imperial constitution to its ‘proper’ state. German writers were liberally paid to articulate just what this was. The most influential was Bogislav Philipp Chemnitz, better known by his pseudonym Hippolithus a Lapide. His access to Swedish confidential papers makes his history of events after 1630 still valuable today. However, his interpretation of the constitution was deliberately partisan; the Empire was presented as an aristocracy with the emperor merely first among equals. Not surprisingly, his book was banned and symbolically burned by Ferdinand’s hangman.¹¹

The Swedes were far more reticent about their second objective of ‘satisfaction’ (Satisfactio), or recompense for their noble efforts. These territorial ambitions were present from the start, even if their scope changed with military fortunes. As soon as the Imperialists abandoned the siege of Stralsund, Oxenstierna renegotiated Sweden’s position there into a formal protectorate. The Council of State decided in May 1630 to retain the town indefinitely. Having landed in July, Gustavus marched to Stettin and told the childless Duke Bogislav that Pomerania was his by right of conquest. This claim rested on Hugo Grotius’s helpful recent book that implied that the Swedes could do as they pleased provided they treated conquered peoples humanely.¹² Gustavus told Bogislav to accept an alliance as a mark of special favour instead. The duke capitulated on 20 July, accepting Swedish command over his duchy and its maritime tolls. Article 14 of the agreement entitled Sweden to sequestrate Pomerania after the duke’s death, though nominally only if the other claimants (principally Brandenburg) refused an amicable settlement. Though the Pomeranian Estates still hoped to recover their autonomy, the duchy had effectively been annexed.

The third objective was the contentment of the army, since it became clear that Sweden could not make peace without additional means to pay off its troops. Not anticipated in 1630, this was essentially already present in the desire to make war at Germany’s expense. As one member of the diet remarked, ‘it is better to tie the goat at the neighbour’s gate than one’s own’.¹³

Alliance with France

Gustavus had resolved on war well before he concluded his alliance with France. The alliance gave Sweden access to French influence in Germany, as well as annual subsidies of 400,000 talers. The arrangement was utilitarian. French interest in Sweden had been slight until 1629. Sweden had closer ties to Spain, still an important market for its timber and minerals, and it refused to become a party to France’s war with Spain after 1635. Nonetheless, the Franco-Swedish alliance endured until the late eighteenth century and broadened the foreign cultural influence in a Sweden previously dominated by Protestant Germans and Britons.

Richelieu had pressed for the alliance against his envoy Charnacé’s better judgment. Charnacé knew France would not be able to control the Swedish lion once it was let loose on Germany, but Richelieu wanted a counterweight to replace Denmark to check the Habsburgs. He needed Sweden to create a diversion, but wanted to disassociate France from the destruction this would cause. He was also concerned to safeguard Catholicism and insisted Gustavus guarantee freedom of worship in any German lands he conquered – something that was absent in the Truce of Altmark which had been followed by the suppression of Catholicism in Swedish-occupied Livonia and Prussia.

Richelieu’s real interest was Bavaria, not Sweden. French assistance in arranging the Ulm Truce (1620) and support for Maximilian’s new electoral title created a favourable impression in Munich. Richelieu saw Maximilian as a potential successor to Emperor Ferdinand and wanted an alliance with the Liga to neutralize southern and western Germany, and to prevent Austria assisting Spain. Maximilian’s reluctance to break with the Habsburgs convinced Richelieu he had to deal with Sweden instead. He did not want to burn his bridges to Bavaria and insisted Gustavus promise not to attack Liga members. Gustavus was reluctant to have any constraints, but his failure to break out of Pomerania forced him to accept Richelieu’s terms in the Treaty of Bärwalde on 23 January 1631. France would sponsor Sweden for five years, during which Gustavus would respect Richelieu’s conditions and not agree peace without consulting him.¹⁴

Maximilian had already secured French guarantees to defend his electoral title in a treaty agreed with Richelieu’s envoys during the Regensburg congress in November 1630. Richelieu reluctantly ratified this as the Treaty of Fontainebleau on 31 May 1631, even though it formally obliged France to defend Bavaria against all enemies, including Sweden, while freeing Maximilian from assisting France against the Habsburgs. Both parties recognized that the treaty was unenforceable, but regarded it as a statement of mutual good intentions.

BETWEEN THE LION AND THE EAGLE

The Leipzig Convention

Taking Stettin was easy compared to breaking out of Pomerania. The duchy was too small and poor to sustain a large army, and it proved impossible to collect sufficient troops to punch through the imperial cordon that repulsed attacks along the Oder to the east and Mecklenburg to the west throughout the rest of 1630. Success depended entirely on the German Protestant princes who were now caught between the Swedish lion and the imperial eagle. Gustavus was a largely unknown quantity. Knowledge of Sweden was slight. Rumours of its semi-barbarous inhabitants appeared to be confirmed by Gustavus’s harsh demands. As he told his Brandenburg brother-in-law, ‘I don’t want to hear about neutrality. His grace must be my friend or foe… This is a fight between God and the Devil. If His grace is with God, he must join me, if he is for the Devil, he must fight me. There is no third way.’¹⁵

Yet the middle course was precisely what the majority of the Protestants wanted. Despite their horror at the Restitution Edict, most hoped Ferdinand could be persuaded to moderate his demands without recourse to violence. Saxony and Mainz had continued their talks and secured the emperor’s permission for a cross-confessional ‘composition congress’ to meet in Frankfurt. Johann Georg meanwhile summoned the Protestants to a parallel convention in Leipzig that opened on 16 February 1631. All major territories sent representatives except Darmstadt, which backed Ferdinand, and Pomerania, which was prevented by Sweden. Despite Saxony’s sponsorship of a rabidly anti-Calvinist jubilee to celebrate the Augsburg Confession the year before, Brandenburg continued to back Johann Georg. The new Brandenburg chancellor, Sigismund von Götz, told the convention ‘the Swede is a foreign king who had no business in the Empire’.¹⁶

The ultra Lutheran Hoë von Hoënegg muted his earlier criticism of Calvinists and even hinted at the necessity of resistance. This was not a call for holy war, despite later claims to the contrary.¹⁷ The convention’s concluding manifesto on 12 April envisaged an army of 40,000 funded by diverting the payments agreed in Regensburg the previous November from the imperial army. This was not a confessional alliance. There was no reference to acting on God’s higher authority. Instead, it was to ‘uphold the basic laws, the imperial constitution and the German liberties of the evangelical Estates’. It was certainly not ‘a stupid plan’.¹⁸ By rallying the Protestants into a neutral block, Johann Georg increased their collective weight. Maximilian appreciated this and the Liga congress at Dinkelsbühl agreed in May to moderate implementation of the Edict, while the delegates in Frankfurt continued to discuss Darmstadt’s suggestion to suspend it for fifty years.

Nonetheless, Johann Georg’s legitimist line cost him much sympathy among those still burdened with imperial and Liga billeting. The Swedish landing meant the cancellation of the troop reductions agreed at Regensburg, and though its effective strength was still lower than under Wallenstein, the army remained expensive. Much depended on Ferdinand’s response, but he offered little. The Swedes’ unspectacular performance since their landing fostered a false confidence that was sustained by the prospect of units returning from Mantua to reinforce Tilly. Ferdinand’s obstinate refusal to accept the way out offered by Johann Georg compounded the error of the Edict.

The lack of concessions convinced some they had no choice but to join Sweden. These activists comprised the usual suspects: the fugitive Mecklenburg dukes, Wilhelm and Bernhard of Weimar, Württemberg, Hessen-Kassel and Margrave Friedrich V, son of the outlawed paladin Georg Friedrich of Baden-Durlach. Hessen-Kassel was bankrupt and faced disintegration as the local knights negotiated with Ferdinand to escape its jurisdiction. The Leipzig manifesto provided a convenient cover to collect troops. Together with the Weimar brothers, Landgrave Wilhelm V assembled 7,000 men in his fortresses of Kassel and Ziegenhain. He stopped paying contributions to the now much-reduced Liga occupying forces and blocked supplies intended for Tilly’s garrison in the archbishopric of Bremen, pushing it close to mutiny. Regent Julius Friedrich of Württemberg packed his young charges, Duke Eberhard III and his two brothers, off on a grand tour and put their mother into Urach castle for safety, while his militia began evicting imperial garrisons. Talks were opened with his Franconian neighbours who assembled 2,600 men, mainly in Nuremberg.¹⁹

All remained cautious, reluctant to side openly with Gustavus until he proved himself capable of defending them against imperial retribution. Moreover, most still looked to Elector Johann Georg to take a more forceful stance and compel Ferdinand to accept their demands without having to join a foreign invader.

The Siege of Magdeburg

Only Christian Wilhelm, the dispossessed administrator of Magdeburg, declared for Sweden. He slipped past imperial sentries into Magdeburg where he stormed the town hall on 27 July 1630 with a handful of supporters. The cathedral canons and the city councillors had placed their hopes in Saxony. Christian Wilhelm’s arrival forced their hand and they duly agreed a Swedish alliance. To ensure they did not change their minds, Gustavus sent Colonel Falkenberg, disguised as a boatman, into the city where he took command in October. The Imperialists under Pappenheim soon chased the civic guard and militia back inside the city walls, but with only 3,000 infantry he could not begin a siege.²⁰

Tilly wanted to mount an offensive to drive Gustavus into the sea, but Maximilian refused since this would require Liga units to fight the Swedes, challenging the Bärwalde treaty of January that the king published deliberately for this reason.²¹ Pappenheim was sent 7,000 reinforcements to tighten the grip around Magdeburg instead. Gustavus could not afford to let the city fall, since it would deter potential allies. He planned to have 100,000 men by the beginning of 1631, but in fact mustered only 20,000 field troops, a third of whom were sick, plus 18,000 in garrisons. The shortfall could be made up only by German recruits, who would not join unless he scored a major success. A surprise Swedish offensive chased the Imperialists from Gartz and Greifenhagen, securing the lower Oder on 5 January. However, the Brandenburg garrison at Küstrin blocked his advance upstream, while Tilly dashed with 7,500 reinforcements from Halberstadt, covering 320km in ten days, to rally the demoralized imperial troops.

Thwarted, Gustavus retraced his steps, carefully avoiding Brandenburg to head west across Pomerania into Mecklenburg, where he took Demmin on 25 February. Tilly rushed after him, storming Neubrandenburg on 19 March. A third of the 750 Swedish defenders died during the assault. To sway opinion at the Leipzig convention, propagandists presented it as a massacre during a church service.²² Realizing his troops were outnumbered, Tilly fell back to Magdeburg, raising the besiegers to 25,000. Another 5,000 were posted at the Dessau bridge, while Ferdinand of Cologne collected 7,000 reinforcements in Westphalia and Maximilian and other Liga members mustered a further 8,000 at Fulda. Peace in Italy allowed Ferdinand to recall the 24,000 men from there, who began re-crossing the Alps in May.

These numbers precluded any direct relief for Magdeburg, so Gustavus left a few men to help the Mecklenburg dukes besiege the remaining imperial garrisons in their duchy, and marched east to the Oder again with about 18,000 soldiers. He stormed Frankfurt on the Oder on 13 April, killing 1,700 of the 6,400-strong garrison as a reprisal for the alleged atrocity at Neubrandenburg. Landsberg was taken two weeks later, securing eastern Pomerania and the lower Oder for the Swedes.²³

Tilly refused to be distracted from his siege of Magdeburg that got under way when he took the outworks on 1 May. The suburbs fell two weeks later. The defenders had only 2,500 regular troops, backed by 5,000 armed citizens of whom only 2,000 were adults. The population numbered around 25,000, already reduced by a plague outbreak five years before and the city’s long-term economic decline. Many of the city councillors were lukewarm about the Swedish alliance and pressed Falkenberg to accept Tilly’s repeated offers for honourable surrender. Falkenberg continued to insist that Gustavus was coming, even though he was still 90km away at Potsdam when Tilly launched his final assault at 7 a.m. on Tuesday 20 May. Pappenheim had distributed a wine ration to the besiegers to boost morale. At a pre-arranged signal, 18,000 imperial and Liga troops converged on the city from five directions.

The following events are well-documented by several gripping eyewitness accounts. These need to be treated with care. The best-known is that by Guericke, a councillor keen to shift the blame onto Falkenberg and the clergy, while exonerating his colleagues who subsequently seized power.²⁴ Falkenberg was taken by surprise, having expected Tilly to continue negotiations and he was still arguing with the councillors in the town hall when the Imperialists broke in around 8 a.m. Several councillors left to find their families. Defence was hindered by a shortage of ammunition, but those on the walls put up stiff resistance. Two companies of Croats rode through the low water by the river bank to sneak through a side gate on the poorly fortified Elbe front, spreading panic. The infamous fire started at this point, sparking a controversy that burned far longer and almost as brightly into the twentieth century. Some Protestant propagandists created the myth of the Magdeburg maiden who immolated herself rather than surrender, while others simply blamed the Catholic commanders. Gronsfeld, who had no axe to grind, reported that Pappenheim told him he had ordered a house set on fire to drive out some musketeers who were preventing his men entering the city. Others present similar stories and it seems certain the conflagration was an accident, especially as the whole purpose of the siege was to capture the city intact.²⁵ The fire spread quickly once it reached an apothecary’s house used to store gunpowder, and the city was fully ablaze by 10 a.m.

Resistance collapsed on the northern front, letting Pappenheim’s column in. Once they were in the city, the other sectors collapsed as well. Falkenberg died relatively early on. The inhabitants began barricading themselves in their houses as soon as they saw the defenders leave the walls. Tilly entered and ordered his men to stop plundering and extinguish the fires. Many of the troops were out of control, but enough remained under orders to save the cathedral where 1,000 people had sought shelter. The Premonstratensians also protected 600 women in their monastery which also escaped the flames, but it proved impossible to save more as the wind fanned the fires, destroying 1,700 of the city’s 1,900 buildings. Even Catholic accounts admit the violence continued for several days. The monks saw six soldiers rape a twelve-year-old girl in their courtyard. Despite her death, they were too frightened to report it, until finally one of them went to Tilly, but it proved impossible to identify the perpetrators.²⁶

Councillor Daniel Friese escaped by changing into old clothes so he would not be taken as a rich man worth holding for ransom. His house was nonetheless ransacked. Some soldiers were simply happy just to find a new pair of shoes. Others became violent if they could not find anything more valuable. Friese survived by staying with his family in the attic, until his maid tried to join them from her hiding place in the coal shed just as a fresh party of plunderers appeared. By this point, there was nothing visible left to take and the men began beating him until his toddler son approached a soldier and offered his pocket money. According to his eldest son, the soldier ‘immediately changed and turned to us in a friendly rather than a cruel manner. He looked at us children as we stood about him and said: Aye, what fine little lads you are!’ The soldier helped them escape to the imperial camp, where his own wife was greatly annoyed to find he had not brought booty instead. The family had managed to secrete a few valuables away and paid their way out of the camp three days later.²⁷ This was not an isolated case amid the horror, and other soldiers helped civilians, including clergy, to escape.

Around 20,000 defenders and civilians died, along with at least 300 besiegers killed during the assault in which another 1,600 were wounded. There were too many bodies to bury, so most were thrown into the river. Most died in the conflagration, or were suffocated hiding in their cellars. A census revealed only 449 inhabitants in February 1632 and a large part of the city remained rubble until 1720. The disaster became a defining event in the war and did much to shape its subsequent interpretation as a benchmark for brutality. At least 205 pamphlets describing the city’s fall appeared in 1631 alone, and later massacres, including the Cromwellian atrocities at Drogheda and Wexford in 1649, were immediately compared to Magdeburg.

The End of Neutrality

Ferdinand moved against the other Protestant militants before Magdeburg fell. An imperial decree annulled the Leipzig manifesto on 14 May and ordered the signatories to disband their troops. The units returning from Italy were already in place at Lake Constance to begin enforcement. They rapidly overran Württemberg before the Franconians could arrive. Outnumbered, the Württemberg regent surrendered on 24 July, agreeing to resume contributions to an imperial garrison. The Franconians capitulated soon after as Aldringen arrived with the main force from Württemberg. Magdeburg’s fall freed Tilly to turn on Hessen-Kassel, but he waited until he received imperial authorization. Landgrave Wilhelm prevaricated when summoned to disband his men, but was saved by Gustavus whose advance across the Elbe forced Tilly to turn back on 19 July. Since his refusal to disarm placed him clearly against the emperor, Wilhelm openly declared for Sweden on 27 July.

His support mattered little unless Gustavus could win over Brandenburg and Saxony whose prestige would convince others to follow. While Tilly’s troops stormed Magdeburg, Gustavus’s men blockaded the Brandenburgers in Küstrin and advanced on Köpeneck to force Georg Wilhelm to negotiate. As Württemberg was invaded and Hessen-Kassel threatened, Gustavus massed 26,000 men outside Berlin and trained his artillery on the electoral palace. Georg Wilhelm capitulated on 20 June, agreeing to pay regular contributions and let the Swedes occupy most of Brandenburg. Gustavus also pressed Georg Wilhelm to marry his son, Friedrich Wilhelm, to Princess Christina, but the elector hesitated, aware this was a device to usurp his claims to Pomerania.²⁸

The king sent Åke Tott with 8,000 men to complete the conquest of Mecklenburg, and then concentrated 16,000 men in an entrenched camp at Werben. Tilly approached, having collected the units he had left around Magdeburg. Maximilian was unable to prevent clashes between Liga units and the Swedes and these gave Gustavus an excuse to ignore Richelieu’s restrictions. Tilly got the worst of the skirmishing in the scorching heat of late July and early August, but his losses were only a fraction of the 7,000 claimed by Gustavus who was obliged to magnify the slightest successes in his relentless campaign to win allies. He still had fewer than 24,000 men in his main army, whereas Fürstenberg arrived from south Germany to bring Tilly’s troops up to 35,000, while another 24,000 were on their way, in addition to the men still collecting at Cologne.

The breakthrough came when Elector Johann Georg, having waited until the last possible moment, abandoned his neutrality. Ferdinand and Maximilian had refrained from condemning Saxon military preparations that now totalled 18,000 men and instructed Tilly not to infringe Saxon territory. Even the action against Hessen-Kassel had been delayed out of consideration for Johann Georg, and Tilly’s advance guard had merely plundered the border rather than attack the landgrave’s troops. Throughout, imperial diplomats sought to win Saxony by offering concessions over Lusatia. Maximilian was also prepared to accept tactical concessions over the Edict and backed the Frankfurt composition congress that was still in progress.²⁹ Finally, Tilly was authorized to advance to the Saxon frontier and demand supplies to lend weight to diplomacy. When this failed, imperial troops invaded, disarming the electoral garrison in Merseburg on 5 September. The failure of the Protestants to pay war taxes since April had caused considerable problems. With his army swollen by reinforcements, it was imperative for Tilly to leave the devastated area around Magdeburg and enter fertile Saxony. He pushed on to Leipzig, which surrendered on 15 September. Though he had begun to burn Saxon villages, he still hoped to reach an agreement, but the elector had opted for Sweden instead on the 12th.

The decision was applauded by Protestant observers. Broadsheets that had been circulating with Gustavus’s image were reissued to show the elector riding alongside him. However, the move represented a change in tactics, not policy. The elector had no enthusiasm for the king’s grandiose schemes and refused to see it as a religious war. His alliance was simply intended to increase the pressure on Ferdinand to make peace on the basis of restoring the pre-war situation. Despite their willingness to talk, the Catholics had not given enough ground. Their intransigence would cost the Empire dear, because it was clear that an agreement was close. Already by mid-November, six theologians consulted by Ferdinand admitted it would be preferable to annul the Edict than risk the Empire’s ruin. By then, however, it was already too late.³⁰ It is uncertain whether the Swedes appreciated how widely Saxon aims diverged from their own. The alliance was nonetheless crucial and they granted the elector far wider autonomy than that accorded to any other German partner.

The Battle of Breitenfeld

Gustavus crossed the Elbe at Wittenberg and moved south to join the elector at Düben, north-east of Leipzig. The 16,000 Saxons present were resplendent in new uniforms and included 1,500 of the local gentry and their retainers. They outshone the 23,000 Swedes who ‘having lyen over-night on a parcell of plowd ground, were so dusty, they looked out like kitchen-servants, with their uncleanely Rags’.³¹ The Swedes were ‘old experimented blades’, whereas the Saxons had been drilling only since April. Their commander, Arnim, joined once his own master, Georg Wilhelm of Brandenburg, had also accepted the Swedish alliance in June. The combined force was the largest Gustavus had yet brought together and he was determined to strike the decisive blow he hoped would finally persuade the German Protestants to join him. Tilly was equally resolved to fight, finally free to pursue the offensive strategy he had advocated since the beginning of the year.³² His masters were also determined, recognizing that only a clear victory would deter others from following Brandenburg’s and Saxony’s example.

The two sides converged on a relatively broad plain by the village of Breitenfeld, just north of Leipzig for what would be the second biggest battle of the war and one of the most important. Tilly had around 37,000 men with 27 guns, meaning he was both outnumbered (by over 1,000) and outgunned (by at least 29 pieces). The 7,000 Imperialists under Fürstenberg had only just arrived and were still tired, but morale was high as the men ‘had an invincible courage, believing they would be victorious’.³³ Tilly drew up his troops on a slight rise running east to west along the edge of the plain. The infantry were deployed in twelve large blocks, grouped in threes with two further battalions posted on either flank to support the cavalry. Around 4,000 of the latter were on the left under Pappenheim who had the cream of the imperial cuirassiers. Fürstenberg commanded around 3,100 Liga heavy cavalry and 900 Croats on the right. Another 1,000 men had been left holding Leipzig.

The Swedes and Saxons had camped about 8km to the north and skipped breakfast to advance early on 17 September with the morning sun in their eyes. It took several hours to cross a marshy stream and arrive within cannon shot of Tilly, and it was not until about midday that the Swedish artillery began to reply to the imperial guns that had already opened up from their positions in front of the infantry. The artillery duel lasted two hours, with the deeper imperial formations sustaining heavier casualties. Gustavus deliberately kept his own army separate from the raw Saxons who were deployed in a relatively deep formation east of the Leipzig-Düben road. The Swedes formed up to the west, with General Horn commanding the cavalry immediately next to the road, then seven infantry brigades in two lines with Gustavus and the rest of the cavalry on the extreme right opposite Pappenheim.

Gustavus extended his troops further west, intending to outflank the Imperialists. Seeing this, Pappenheim charged around 2 p.m., but was repulsed by a general salvo from the 2,500 Swedish troopers who were

stiffened by 860 musketeers. Pappenheim’s cuirassiers rode forward another seven times, closing to within pistol range and each time they got the worst of the exchange. Meanwhile, Fürstenberg bore down on the Saxons, sending Isolano’s Croats to wheel round their flank. Despite being shaken by the artillery bombardment, the Saxons offered initial resistance, until the gentry levies took to their heels. Two cavalry regiments containing the elector’s only experienced soldiers remained to join Horn. The rest fled, taking Johann Georg with them and losing 3,000 men, mainly in the pursuit.

By now it was becoming difficult to see what was happening as gun smoke was thickened by the dry dust stirred up by thousands of feet and hoofs. Fürstenberg was unable to rally his troopers, many of whom were pursuing the Saxons, or plundering their baggage. His rapid advance had outstripped the infantry that reached the former Saxon position only around 3.30. Horn had time to regroup along the road at right angles to the rest of the army, reinforcing his front with infantry from the second line of the centre. The imperial and Liga infantry were sent forward piecemeal as they arrived while Horn’s fresh cavalry soon dispersed Fürstenberg’s tired troopers. Worse, Tilly’s right had to swing east to face Horn’s new position, opening a gap between it and Pappenheim. After two hours of fruitless attacks, Pappenheim’s men were exhausted. They were routed when hit by Gustavus’s counter-attack, exposing the overstretched imperial centre. This came under attack around 5 p.m., just as Tilly’s right began to collapse. The battered infantry retreated in good order to make a last stand at a wood behind their original position. Resistance collapsed at dusk once the Swedes dragged their artillery within range. Around 6,000 were taken on the field, and a further 3,000 fugitives surrendered at Leipzig the next day. Well over 7,000 lay dead, while many of those who escaped were wounded, including Tilly. Others deserted, and Tilly was able to collect only 13,000 survivors at Halberstadt a few days later. The Swedes lost 2,100 men, but more than made up for this by pressing the imperial prisoners into their army.

At last, Gustavus had achieved the spectacular victory that had eluded him since his landing. Protestant propagandists were swift to trumpet the success as a general call to arms, citing it as divine retribution for the sack of Magdeburg. Breitenfeld was the first major defeat of Catholic forces since the beginning of the war and it cemented the militants’ faith in Gustavus as their saviour. Later commentators have regarded it as the inevitable outcome of an allegedly superior military system.³⁴ Certainly Tilly’s deeper formations contributed to the Imperialists’ heavier casualties, but the real failings were in the command and control of such large numbers, which created the opportunity for Gustavus’s decisive counter-attack.

THE SWEDISH EMPIRE

A New Alexander

Breitenfeld transformed the image of the Swedish king. Protestant opinion lost its earlier caution and assumed a more militant tone; by the middle of the following year he was routinely presented as a new Joshua. Hero-worship spread among the devout. Sir Thomas Roe grew his beard and moustache to copy the king’s style. However, many were disappointed he did not use the opportunity to negotiate peace.³⁵ A pagan undercurrent hinted at his real motives. As Gustavus reached southern Germany speculation mounted that he would cross the Alps and sack Rome like the Goths had done in AD 410. Sweden already made much of its Gothic heritage to present itself as an empire equal to any European monarchy. Humanist pseudo-history claimed Swedish derived from Hebrew and that the country had been founded by Noah’s grandson after the Flood, making it the oldest in the world. Gustavus appeared at a tournament celebrating his coronation in 1617 dressed as a Goth. Some went further to suggest he was a new Alexander, implying that, far from restoring German liberty, he was seeking his own Imperium Macedonicum.

Tilly retreated rapidly westwards through Westphalia, then south across Hessen into Franconia to join his long-awaited reinforcements, giving him 40,000 men. Another 20,000 Imperialists were massing in Silesia, while a few more were still returning from Italy. Direct pursuit was no longer an option for Gustavus, while a push up the Oder into Austria was out of the question. Still unwelcome in much of Protestant Germany, the Swedes knew it would be almost impossible to operate in the hostile Habsburg lands. Gustavus decided to swing south-west instead, through Thuringia, to seize as much land as possible before winter closed in. This would enable Wilhelm of Hessen-Kassel to join him, and possibly Württemberg and other south Germans too.

Opposition proved unexpectedly weak. Erfurt fell on 2 October. Würzburg was next, surrendering on 15 October. Capital of the rich bishopric of that name, Würzburg was particularly strong thanks to the Marienberg fortress perched on a steep hill across the Main from the town. The garrison’s pleas for mercy were answered by cries of ‘Magdeburg quarter’ during the assault.³⁶ After a brief rest, Gustavus surged down the Main, taking Frankfurt and then crossing the Rhine at Oppenheim to capture Mainz on 23 December. Much of the Lower Palatinate right of the Rhine was conquered over the next two weeks, including Heidelberg. A second, smaller army meanwhile completed the conquest of Mecklenburg, before crossing the Elbe into the Guelph lands.

Sweden’s Allies

These conquests determined the structure of Sweden’s presence in Germany until the end of the war, establishing four elements: allies, the Baltic bridgehead, strategic bases and German collaborators. Allies were essential, but represented a weak link. Gustavus insisted on ‘absolute direction’ over his partners, but found this hard to maintain. The Saxons were the most important. Their poor performance at Breitenfeld obscures their potential. Having rallied his scattered troops, Johann Georg continued recruiting, mustering 24,000 men by 1632. These were backed by around 13,000 Brandenburgers and a few thousand cavalry raised by the 200 Bohemian and Moravian exiles who had joined Sweden since 1630. Even after deducting garrisons, this was a potent force.³⁷Arnim crossed into Bohemia on 1 November 1631, entering Prague two weeks later in a move that eased Gustavus’s victorious advance by compelling Ferdinand to recall 18,000 men from Tilly’s army.

This display of Saxon belligerence was simply to force Ferdinand to negotiate. Since Johann Georg knew any viable peace would fall short of militant Protestant expectations, he wanted to negotiate from a position of strength. This way, concessions at Protestants’ expense would appear magnanimous gestures. These intentions were concealed, but the choice of Arnim as commander had already raised Swedish suspicions. When the Bohemian exiles trashed one of Wallenstein’s castles, Arnim wrote to his former chief to apologize. Contacts developed through Kinsky and other, less vindictive Bohemians and continued until Wallenstein’s death.³⁸ All parties were careful not to commit themselves and what they did write down was often a ploy to compromise the other side. As a result, it is impossible to identify the protagonists’ true motives. Some have speculated that Wallenstein was already disaffected by his dismissal and deliberately sabotaged Tilly’s command by withholding grain in Mecklenburg and Friedland. While he did little to help Tilly, it seems unlikely that he was motivated by revenge.³⁹ Led by Count Thurn, the exiles were prepared to let him keep his estates and even make him king of Bohemia if this would help them recover their former possessions. Wallenstein played along because this offered the emperor a useful conduit to Saxony and Sweden. Sweden and France encouraged discussions of a possible Bohemian crown in 1633 to entice him to defect and gather incriminating evidence should he remain loyal. With Sweden refusing to discuss peace, Wallenstein pinned his hopes on an understanding with Saxony through Arnim and the exiles. Ferdinand knew of these discussions, even if he remained in the dark about their precise content. Agreement with Saxony had been his objective all along and it is against this background that we should see the wide powers granted to Wallenstein upon his reinstatement as imperial commander at the end of 1631 (see below, p.492).

News of Arnim’s contacts leaked out as he met Wallenstein several times, while Wallenstein’s former assistant, Franz Albrecht of Lauenburg, arrived in Dresden early in 1631. Gustavus was sufficiently alarmed to forbid any further mediation by German princes, but this did not stop Johann Georg’s clandestine correspondence. Saxon operations continued to lend weight to the negotiations. Arnim would sit apparently idle for months, only to make a sudden aggressive move if Johann Georg’s position was slipping. There was little Gustavus could do. Open criticism would shatter the façade of Protestant unity and alienate Brandenburg which, though much weaker, was his rival over Pomerania. The king had taken a considerable risk advancing to the Rhine, because this left defence of the Oder and communications to the Baltic resting on the two lukewarm electors.

By contrast, Hessen-Kassel was more committed to the Swedish cause because Ferdinand’s intransigence had left Wilhelm V little choice. Ruling the largest secular principality not yet an electorate, the landgrave was ambitious and backed Gustavus’s plan to revise the imperial constitution. Wilhelm proposed redistributing the three ecclesiastical electoral titles to secular princes, clearly expecting to be one of the beneficiaries. Able to field around 10,000 men, Wilhelm had some weight as an ally, having already helped to capture Mainz, and was the only one to be promised extensive territory by Gustavus. In return for ceding Marburg to Darmstadt, whose neutrality Gustavus accepted, Wilhelm was to receive most of the Westphalian church land.⁴⁰ The danger of such an arrangement was soon apparent, as the Hessians concentrated on conquering these areas rather than helping the Swedes.

Gustavus treated the Palatinate with far less consideration. Like Denmark, he viewed the Palatine cause as a way to obtain British assistance. The failure of the Ré expedition and Buckingham’s subsequent assassination deepened that country’s domestic crisis. The birth of the Prince of Wales – the future Charles II – lessened the dynastic imperative of backing the Winter Queen and her children, since Charles I now had his own heir. He returned to his father’s policy, patching up relations with Spain in November 1630 in the hope that this would effect at least a partial Palatine restoration. His sister grew impatient, urging collaboration with Sweden: ‘If this opportunity be neglected, we may be in despair of ever recovering anything, for by treaty it will never be done.’⁴¹

Charles engaged in a typical Stuart half-measure, antagonizing the Habsburgs by sending an expeditionary force, but providing these as auxiliaries without obliging Gustavus to commit himself to a Palatine restoration. Command was entrusted to the inexperienced marquis of Hamilton who has entered military history as Captain Luckless.⁴² News that 20,000 Britons were going to land on the Weser proved a serious distraction for Tilly during 1631. In fact, Hamilton brought only 6,000 troops and disembarked at Stettin in August, moving up the Oder to watch the Imperialists in Silesia. Fearing that he might establish an autonomous Palatine presence there with the exiles, Gustavus redirected Hamilton across Saxony to support the Swedish operations in the Guelph lands. British leverage declined as Hamilton’s force melted away from desertion, malnourishment and disease, leaving only 500 survivors by December.

Sweden’s intervention in the Empire had been welcomed by the Dutch as reducing the likelihood of imperial assistance for Spain. However, the Republic’s leaders rejected notions of religious war and only paid limited subsidies in 1631–2 to induce Gustavus to drop plans to monopolize the Baltic grain trade. They refused to back Frederick V beyond paying his expenses as he travelled to join Gustavus on the Rhine in January 1632. The elector’s presence suited Gustavus by putting pressure on Duke Maximilian, who now thought Sweden would restore Frederick to his lands. However, Gustavus made restoration conditional on Britain sending another 12,000 men and paying out £25,000 a month. In return, Frederick could have his lands back, but only as fiefs of the Swedish crown. These terms would have reduced him to a ‘marionette’ and were duly rejected in March. Frederick left the king’s entourage in disgust in September. Already ill, he died in Mainz on 30 November, further weakening the Palatine cause.⁴³

The Baltic Bridgehead

Sweden’s primary interest lay in consolidating its hold on the Baltic coast. Stralsund formed the irreducible core that, as a matter of prestige, Sweden refused to relinquish. Gustavus clearly intended to hold the rest of Pomerania, as well as the Mecklenburg port of Wismar that had served as the imperial naval base. Interest in Bremen and Verden arose from fear that Denmark might intervene on the emperor’s behalf. The Lutheran administrator in Bremen, Johann Friedrich of Holstein, believed Ferdinand would cut a deal at his expense and declared for Sweden at the end of 1631. The archbishopric not only commanded the Weser, but its fortress of Stade dominated the lower Elbe. The situation grew urgent as Danish troops exchanged shots with the Swedes outside Bremen in spring 1632. The Swedes saw the administrator as a means to keep the Danes north of the Elbe and helped him eject the small Liga garrison and conquer Verden to the south. However, Johann Friedrich’s death in 1634 and the Guelphs’ subsequent defection in 1635 convinced Oxenstierna to dispense with unreliable local allies, although it was not until 1645 that Sweden conquered Bremen and Verden and added these to its list of territorial demands (see Chapter 19). Together with Pomerania, these lands linked Sweden to its armies in Germany. They were garrisoned by native Swedish and Finnish units under trusted commanders, and received the bulk of the additional conscripts sent after the mid-1630s.

Strategic Bases

The bridgehead was extended by strategic forward bases at operational centres in each region. The first and most important was Erfurt, a town that belonged to Mainz but had a long tradition of autonomy and aspirations to emancipate itself as an imperial city. Erfurt controlled the roads between Magdeburg, Saxony, Hessen and Franconia and thus secured the route from Pomerania into central Germany. Neighbouring Magdeburg also served as a base once it was captured early in 1632. However, its ruined state, together with Johann Georg’s claim for his son to be administrator, lessened its utility. Würzburg secured Franconia, especially as Bamberg further up the Main was difficult to defend. Mainz became the principal base in the Rhineland and the unofficial capital of Sweden’s German empire. A huge fortress, the Gustavusburg, was constructed on Darmstadt territory across the river from the city to serve as a safe refuge if the army had to retreat from southern Germany.⁴⁴ The other bases were imperial cities cajoled into joining Sweden. A garrison in Frankfurt guarded the lower Main, while Nuremberg supplemented Würzburg in Franconia. Augsburg offered a base in Swabia, but its proximity to Bavaria left it vulnerable.

Though Erfurt was held throughout the war, the others were lost by 1635. The fact that the bases were nearly all Catholic territories was an additional factor in the more provisional Swedish presence there than in the bridgehead. Catholic observance represented defiance of the occupiers and was encouraged wherever possible by militant clergy. Most priests were expelled, but consideration for France obliged Gustavus to leave a few churches in Catholic hands. The Swedes and their German appointees faced strong pressure from local Protestant minorities bent on revenge. The particularly vindictive re-Catholicization measures in Augsburg were reversed in 1632. Little effort was made to hinder local initiatives, such as Frankfurt’s expulsion of the Capuchins, or the Hohenlohe counts’ attempts to impose Protestantism on conquered areas.⁴⁵ Elsewhere, it proved more difficult to promote Protestantism. Mainz was wholly Catholic and the Lutheran congregation was confined to the Swedish garrison. The university collapsed after its staff and students fled. Otherwise, Catholic schools generally remained open, and many local officials kept their posts because the occupiers lacked sufficient qualified loyal Protestants to replace them.

The bases enabled Sweden to tap German resources to sustain its war effort. Gustavus had landed with only enough cash to cover one week’s pay. The initial expectations to make war pay proved wildly optimistic. The full annual cost of maintaining a soldier averaged 150 talers, or three times what had been expected. Whereas 1.9 million tlr had been thought sufficient for a year’s campaign, overall military expenditure already exceeded 10 million during 1631, excluding requisitioned food and other payments in kind. Sweden spent 2.3 million tlr of its own money launching the invasion, but cut back its own expenditure to 3.2 million more spread over the next three years. Prussian tolls provided another 3.7 million across 1629–35, but returns from those in Pomerania proved disappointing at 171,000 tlr, roughly equivalent to the meagre Dutch subsidy. French payments were more substantial, and enabled Sweden to raise loans in Hamburg and Amsterdam through Gustavus’s resident agent, Johan Salvius. Totalling 11 million, these sources nonetheless only covered 30 per cent of the actual cost to Sweden of the German war.⁴⁶

Seeking the rest in Germany, Gustavus copied Wallenstein’s system of contributions. A major reason for Sweden’s search for German allies was to divert their taxes to sustain the Swedish army. Pomerania, Mecklenburg, Brandenburg and Magdeburg all paid considerable sums, but Gustavus had unreasonable expectations of German wealth. He demanded 240,000 tlr from Augsburg in 1632, when the normal annual taxes raised no more than 50,000.⁴⁷ The Swedes always wanted large sums immediately, upsetting the delicate balance between tax and production. Communities were forced to borrow, leaving them heavily indebted. The situation was worse in the conquered areas where the Swedes showed even less restraint. Würzburg was ordered to pay 150,000 tlr in October 1631, followed by another 200,000 only nine months later. Munich paid 100,000 in cash and 40,000 in jewellery in 1632, but the Swedes wanted another 160,000 and took 42 hostages. One escaped, but four died before the rest were liberated three years later. Mainz was given only twelve days’ notice to raise 80,000 in December 1631, or eighteen times its usual tax. The Swedes grudgingly accepted payment at 1,500 tlr a week, but this stopped in June when the inhabitants ran out of money. The Jewish community meanwhile paid 20,000 to save their synagogue.

As with Wallenstein’s, the decentralized character of contributions provided scope for corruption and inefficiency. Colonel Baudissin was suspected of pocketing 50,000 tlr of the money collected from Thuringia in the autumn of 1631, while Gustavus’s commissioner accepted 6,000 tlr from Würzburg in return for halving the original demand.⁴⁸ The situation shifted as it appeared Sweden would retain its conquests. Receipts revived when contributions were abandoned in Mainz in favour of the electorate’s existing tax structure that delivered 80 per cent of what was demanded. German money not only paid the mercenaries who comprised between three-quarters and nine-tenths of the total army, but also covered 51 per cent of the 1 million riksdalers spent on the Swedish and Finnish contingent each year between 1630 and 1648.

German Collaborators

German manpower was crucial as Gustavus discovered his soldiers died as quickly in the Empire as they had in Poland. Despite their hardy reputation, 46 per cent of those who landed in July 1630 were dead within six months, mainly due to infection from unfamiliar microbes. He had lost 50,000 men by the end of 1631 when his army in Germany contained only 13,000 Swedes and Finns. The normal annual attrition rate among conscripts thereafter was one in five, with most living no more than four years after arriving in Germany.⁴⁹ Experience mattered as well as numbers. Many native officers were not up to the job. Åke Tott, a Finnish veteran with a fearsome reputation from the Prussian campaigns, proved incapable of handling the small army sent to conquer Lower Saxony. Baudissin, a Lausatian who replaced him in May 1632, proved little better.

German collaborators stepped in to raise and command troops. Unlike the Swedes, they possessed local knowledge and often their own small territories were capable of providing men and money. Würzburg’s capture convinced many princes and nobles that Breitenfeld was not an isolated success and they flocked to greet the conquering hero. No one obtained the wide autonomy left to Saxony or the de facto freedom allowed Hessen-Kassel. Instead, collaborators had to surrender their forts and troops to Sweden’s absolute direction and redirect their revenue to support the war.⁵⁰ They received commissions and, if they were lucky, small cash advances to recruit additional regiments. Nearly five hundred German regiments were raised for Sweden over the course of the war, with up to a hundred serving at any one time. These units formed the new regional armies. Wilhelm of Weimar was assigned to defend Erfurt, while his younger brother Bernhard held Franconia, both using their own regiments plus units supplied by Nuremberg, the Franconian knights and militia from Sachsen-Coburg. Württemberg and Baden-Durlach formed a Swabian army around their militia in May 1632. A Rhenish force was assembled by the Nassau and Wetterau counts to operate from Mainz. A more disparate army collected in Lower Saxony around units raised by the dukes of Mecklenburg and the administrator of Bremen. They were joined by Duke Georg of Lüneburg, who resigned his imperial commission, and Friedrich Ulrich of Wolfenbüttel.

None of these armies was fully reliable. At around 5,000 men each, they were too small to achieve much without additional help. Swedish units and officers were attached to them, notably in Lower Saxony and the Rhineland, but partly as minders and were themselves often vulnerable. Duke Georg pursued his own war to capture Hildesheim, while Friedrich Ulrich concentrated on trying to recover Wolfenbüttel. The Swedish units tagged along to avoid being left to face the local Liga forces alone. Overall, troop numbers doubled at the beginning of 1632, and grew by another 40,000 to reach an all-time high of 140,000 by the middle of the year. However, the royal strike force remained relatively small. Early in 1632, Gustavus had only 16,000 at Mainz, while Horn had 10,000 in Franconia.

The German units swore loyalty to Sweden, but this remained conditional on continued success. Some collaborators were already irrevocably committed to the Protestant cause, leaving them little alternative. The two commanders of the Rhenish army, Rheingraf Salm-Kyrburg and Prince Christian of Birkenfeld, were veteran paladins. Prince Kraft of Hohenlohe, named governor of Franconia in May 1632, was a former Protestant Union member, while his brother Georg Friedrich had been the Bohemian field marshal. As these examples illustrate, Sweden’s collaborators came largely from the ranks of the minor princes, counts and imperial knights. They were Protestants, though many were Calvinists, a confession Sweden refused to recognize. More significantly, they belonged to the ranks of the partially disenfranchised within the imperial constitution. Like Hessen-Kassel, they hoped to profit from the anticipated changes. Count Philipp Reinhard of Solms, another paladin who had joined Sweden in 1627 after fighting with the Danes, proposed abolishing the position of emperor and converting the Empire into a status aristocratus.

More immediately, all expected to receive church land confiscated from their neighbours. This practice, known euphemistically as ‘donations’, began in 1630 to feed the Swedish war monster. Property belonging to Duke Bogislav in Pomerania was appropriated and sold to Stralsund for 100,000 tlr. Jesuits and other religious orders were targeted for punitive measures as the Swedes moved south in 1631, while those who fled automatically had their assets seized. That taken in Frankfurt alone was worth 800,000 florins.⁵¹Expropriation became systematic by 1633 when Kraft of Hohenlohe received the rich Ellwangen priory and Schöntal abbey, while his brother was given Count Fugger’s properties and pieces of Mainz and Würzburg.

Like the beneficiaries of restitution, many discovered donations were poisoned fruits. Kraft of Hohenlohe only obtained Ellwangen after paying 18,000 tlr to Colonel Sperreuter whose troops had captured it. He discovered that Oxenstierna had already given many of the priory’s assets to other officers. Vital documents had been lost and local government was in chaos. With the Catholic population uncooperative, Kraft relied on outsiders who were unable to meet the Swedes’ demand for regular contributions. Having already raised three regiments for Gustavus, Kraft reckoned the deal cost him 100,000 tlr by the time the Imperialists recovered the priory in 1634. Donations likewise raised unrealistic expectations, leading inevitably to disillusionment with Swedish service. Christian Wilhelm was disappointed not to be restored to Magdeburg and Halberstadt after their capture in February 1632, and having been caught by imperial troops, he promptly converted to Catholicism. Meanwhile, the Swedish governor, Ludwig of Anhalt-Köthen, tried to incorporate both sees into his own principality but was compelled to resign in July 1635.⁵²

A New Augustus?

The donations were an expedient that nonetheless revealed Gustavus’s plans for the Empire. A Venetian diplomat noted that ‘Gustavus’ was an anagram of ‘Augustus’, the name of the first Roman emperor.⁵³ Gustavus signalled the imperial direction of his ambitions by a carefully staged triumphal entry into Frankfurt on 17 November 1631. It was not lost on contemporaries that he ‘was now seated… in the very same roome, where the Emperours at their Coronation use to be entertained. There may be a signe of good lucke in that: & perchance this may not be the last time, that he shall there be seated.’⁵⁴ Such speculation misses the point that he had no intention of leaving the existing constitution intact. Citing the right of conquest, Gustavus declared occupied areas as Swedish fiefs that were distributed to supporters on the condition they would revert to Sweden if their new rulers died without heirs. This condition was even applied to ‘liberated’ areas like Mecklenburg and the Lower Palatinate. Allies who escaped conquest, like the Guelphs or Hessen-Kassel, nonetheless had to accept Swedish protection superseding existing ties to the emperor. The same was written into agreements with the imperial cities, while towns like Magdeburg, Rostock and Erfurt were promised city status only if they accepted Swedish overlordship.

Allied and conquered territories were instructed early in 1632 to ignore imperial mandates and pay feudal dues to Gustavus instead. By June Gustavus was talking about converting his military alliances into a permanent corpus politicorum, naturally under his ‘absolute direction’. This would use elements of the existing constitution. The Kreis structure already served to group allies and collaborators on a regional basis. However, the imposition of governors in Franconia and Swabia, as well as Thuringia, which was not a Kreis, suggests this element of the constitution was simply used for convenience. The governors were charged with asserting Swedish overlordship and had no intention of allowing the Kreis assemblies to hold them to account.⁵⁵

Existing boundaries and jurisdictions were not respected. Towns and districts were taken from one territory and assigned to another according to the Swedes’ own system of punishments and rewards. The Thurn und Taxis family were deprived of their imperial postal monopoly which was instead entrusted to Protestant officials to distribute Swedish propaganda.⁵⁶ Disputes would be arbitrated by the Reichskammergericht, but this was to be reorganized to exclude Catholics, who were to remain outside the new corpus evangelicorum. It remained unclear how this corpus would relate to the Empire. Gustavus referred to it as ‘a body within a body’, but it is unlikely that he would subordinate himself to the existing emperor. There was already considerable speculation after the capture of Mainz that Oxenstierna would be installed as its new elector and imperial chancellor. While the details were probably never decided, the clear direction of Sweden’s German policy was to usurp imperial authority and partition the Empire, restricting Habsburg influence to its hereditary lands.⁵⁷

Gustavus’s ambitions were far from popular among his inner circle. Gabriel Oxenstierna, Axel’s younger brother and the country’s chief justice, urged a moderate peace based on restoring an ideal balance between the different parts of the Empire. Anything more, he argued, would alienate Sweden’s friends and drag the country into endless war. Even Axel doubted the wisdom of extending the war into southern Germany, acknowledging in retrospect that it simply antagonized the emperor and prolonged the war. Opposition was greater still in Germany. Johann Georg jealously guarded his leading position in Upper Saxony, while the Guelphs resisted Swedish attempts to manipulate the Lower Saxon assembly. The presence of numerous Catholics prevented the use of Swabian institutions, but Sweden’s failure in Franconia is more noteworthy since the opposition there was led by the Lutheran Margrave Christian of Bayreuth who was Kreis colonel. He refused to attach his militia to Bernhard of Weimar’s regional army and forced the Swedes to make agreements with individual collaborators, rather than a comprehensive alliance through the Kreis.⁵⁸

CALLS FOR ASSISTANCE

Catholic Panic

The rapid Swedish advance spread alarm throughout Catholic Germany. Tilly’s forces were disorganized and demoralized. Breitenfeld had shattered his confidence and he avoided battle. While the Swedes rested in the relatively fresh conquered ecclesiastical territories, Tilly’s troops were crammed into Bavaria and a few outposts in Westphalia. Numbers fell further with the onset of winter and the impact of plague carried by the units returning from Italy.

Catholic nobles and clergy wrestled with the dilemma of staying to protect their property or fleeing for their lives. Maria Anna Junius, a Dominican nun at the Heiligengrab convent on the outskirts of Bamberg, readily believed reports that blood flowed down the walls of neighbouring Würzburg as the Swedes massacred the garrison while – she thought – they were at prayer in the fortress chapel.⁵⁹ She recorded their approach with mounting dread, while her mother superior desperately sought advice on whether they should abandon their home. They stayed, but others fled, many travelling in secular clothing to avoid capture. Some managed to take valuables with them, like the abbess of Buchau who escaped with 27 horses and a herd of cows. Those that could went to other houses of their order in Switzerland or Austria, but these were often overwhelmed and rarely admitted yet more refugees. Constance, the Tirol and Salzburg were more welcoming. Franconians and Rhinelanders generally headed for the imperial city of Cologne, soon to be home to the electors of Mainz and Cologne, the bishops of Würzburg, Worms and Osnabrück, the duke of Pfalz-Neuburg and a host of others.

Sometimes fears proved unfounded. Junius records with some embarrassment the gentlemanly behaviour of the Swedish officers once Bamberg fell in February 1632. Many were curious about convent life and brought their wives to visit the nuns. Later, Junius and her sisters entertained Bernhard of Weimar by singing during a visit by the Swedish officers. When the Swedes departed after another occupation, the sisters gave a present to a grateful sentry who had protected the convent gate. Such civilized relations stirred resentment among the Bambergers already angry at their bishop’s precipitous flight. For most people, regardless of confession, the rapid spread of the war brought disease, hardship and uncertainty.

The earlier imperial intransigence over restitution was bitterly regretted. Maximilian now joined Mainz in backing the indefatigable Landgrave Georg of Darmstadt who still lobbied for a compromise based on suspending the Edict.⁶⁰ The overtures were welcomed by Saxony’s Johann Georg, but the timing was inappropriate in view of Sweden’s current dominance. With the bulk of the imperial army withdrawn to Bohemia and Silesia, and many of its members occupied, the Liga felt exposed. Pope Urban was so concerned that Maximilian might make peace that he briefly resumed papal subsidies to the Liga at the end of 1631. The amounts were pretty minimal and Maximilian cast about for more substantial support, turning first to Duke Charles IV of Lorraine.⁶¹

Lorraine

Lorraine was formally part of the Empire, but enjoyed wide autonomy and its rulers were deeply involved in French affairs. Maximilian’s wife, Elisabeth Renate, was Charles’s aunt, and the family had led the militant Catholic Ligue during the French Wars of Religion. Charles repeatedly sought to join the Liga during the 1620s but was always rebuffed for fear of alienating France. It was a sign of Maximilian’s desperation that he invited cooperation now. Lorraine represented a flashpoint for Franco-Habsburg relations and Charles’s activities unwittingly drew these powers closer to war. His own character was partly to blame. Though he could be charming and generous, his restless scheming earned him a reputation for inconstancy. His court at Nancy became a haven for anti-Richelieu exiles, including the arch-intriguer Mme de Chevreuse. Their ranks were swelled after the Day of the Dupes by none other than the king’s brother, Gaston d’Orleans.⁶² His presence attracted Spanish attention since, as a royal brother, he was considered a more appropriate ally than the Huguenot rebels with whom Olivares had flirted briefly in 1625. Lorraine remained involved with the exiles once Gaston joined his mother who had fled to Brussels in June 1631. Plotting continued until the chief conspirators were defeated in 1641. The details vary, but Gaston essentially sought a greater role in France. He resented his brother’s refusal to let him marry, a ploy obviously intended to prevent him siring a potential heir to the throne (Louis XIII was childless until 1638). Gaston secretly married Charles’s younger sister, Marguerite de Vaudemont, in January 1632.

The duke wanted to throw off the French influence seeping across his duchy thanks to that country’s protectorate over the bishoprics of Metz, Toul and Verdun. With relations already elected to the latter two, Charles wanted to neutralize the influence of the first, the principal French base in the region. At his invitation in February 1630, 2,700 Imperialists seized the Metz enclaves of Vic and Moyenvic that straddled the main road from France over the Vosges to Alsace. Coming as it did at the height of the Mantuan crisis, Richelieu mistook this for the actions of an advance guard of a full invasion force and assembled an army in Champagne immediately to the west.

In fact, Ferdinand had no intention of going further, but Olivares was prepared to fund Charles to help Gaston invade France. Intended to distract France from aiding the Dutch, this considerably raised the stakes.⁶³ Gaston went to Mömpelgard, a Württemberg possession between Alsace, Basel and Lorraine. Arriving in September 1631, he had collected 2,500 cavalry by May 1632, while Charles assembled 15,000 men. Unable to maintain these, and fearing their presence might prompt the French army still in Champagne to invade, Charles crossed the Rhine in October 1631 to assist Tilly. His force was decimated by fever and singularly failed to stop the Swedes capturing the Lower Palatinate. Within a month, the 7,000 or so unruly survivors were back across the Rhine.

Their temporary absence allowed the French to invade Lorraine, and the, now much reduced, imperial garrison surrendered Vic and Moyenvic at the end of December. A brief attempt to remove French influence was punished by a second invasion in May 1632, leading to the Treaty of Liverdun on 20 June. Charles surrendered key towns and bridges, enabling France to connect the conquered enclaves to the three bishoprics and thus secure a route to Alsace. With typically poor timing, Gaston invaded his homeland three days later with only 5,000 men. Though he was joined by the governor of the Languedoc, the Huguenots and grandees had learned their lesson and failed to rise in support. Gaston escaped, but the execution of the unfortunate governor provided a scapegoat and permitted a temporary royal brotherly reconciliation in October 1634.⁶⁴

Spain

Spanish assistance proved equally problematic and ineffectual. Archduchess Isabella believed the Swedish advance would finally force the Liga to drop its opposition to assisting Spain. She offered over 3,000 men to garrison Cologne, but the city politely declined. There were around 9,000 Spanish in the Lower Palatinate when Gustavus reached the Rhine, but they were all west of the river. Only 400 arrived to reinforce Mainz and they were disgruntled Germans who entered Swedish service once the city surrendered.⁶⁵ Maximilian still distrusted Spain and refused Isabella’s terms.

The emperor had sought better relations with Spain after the failures of the Baltic Design and the Mantuan War. Archduke Ferdinand had married the Spanish Infanta Maria Anna in February 1631, but it was not until a year later that the Spanish ambassador promised 24,000 men and 200,000 escudos a month to contain the Swedes. Spain temporarily increased the force in the Lower Palatinate to 18,000 and delivered subsidies and other indirect aid totalling 2.59 million fl. between 1630 and 1633. However, the February 1632 treaty was never ratified, because Ferdinand transferred Alsace, Further Austria and the Tirol as hereditary possessions to his younger brother, Leopold of Passau. This settled internal tension over the Austrian succession, but contravened the Oñate Treaty of 1617 that promised Alsace to Spain.

France

To Ferdinand’s horror, Maximilian approached France as an alternative source of help. Troublesome though Lorraine was, Richelieu did not intend to punish Charles so harshly. The Swedes’ unexpected arrival on the Rhine forced his hand. By landing in Pomerania, Gustavus fulfilled Richelieu’s requirement of preventing the emperor assisting Spain. His subsequent rampage through Catholic Germany was another matter, changing the entire balance of power in Central Europe. Richelieu had already opened negotiations in October 1631 to convert his current understanding with Bavaria into a full alliance. His preferred option was for the Liga to declare itself neutral, establishing a buffer between the Spanish-Dutch war and the Swedish-imperial one. Failing that, he would negotiate treaties of protection with individual princes in strategic locations.

The French advance into Lorraine in December 1631 was accompanied by an open invitation to all Catholic princes for protection against both Sweden and Spain. The capture of Vic and Moyenvic improved this offer by enabling French troops to reach Alsace. Elector Sötern of Trier accepted Richelieu’s offer on 23 December. A serious cleric and long-standing Liga member, he was disillusioned with Spanish infringement of his property in the Netherlands and its failure to protect him now.⁶⁶ Maximilian hesitated. He was under great pressure from Gustavus, who considered that the resistance of Liga units since March 1631 had removed his obligation to treat Bavaria as neutral. The Swede gave Maximilian two weeks to accept his conquest of church land and reduce Liga forces to 12,000 men, or face invasion.⁶⁷

Negotiations were complicated by Richelieu’s distraction with Gaston’s plot and the fact that Mainz and Count Franz Hatzfeldt, bishop of Würzburg, opened their own talks with the French in Metz. Richelieu’s inability to oblige Gustavus to improve his terms persuaded Maximilian that France could not tame the Swedish lion. He also hesitated to jeopardize his new lands and title by breaking with Ferdinand. By February 1632, Maximilian was working hard to repair his relations with Vienna and dropped objections to Wallenstein’s reinstatement. As it became clear Maximilian would remain loyal, Ferdinand offered military aid. Meanwhile, both he and Spain promised to recover Mainz for its elector. These assurances persuaded the other ecclesiastical princes not to forsake the leaking imperial ship for the French lifeboat.

Wallenstein’s Recall

With Lorraine, Spain and France unable to rescue Catholic Germany, Bavaria and the other principalities saw there was no choice but to rejoin the emperor and fight on. All realized this was only possible if Wallenstein was recalled. Many imperial soldiers had lost confidence in Tilly and resented serving under him. Ferdinand opened serious talks with his former general after the fall of Frankfurt on the Oder in April 1631. Negotiations intensified in November and ran parallel to Wallenstein’s contacts with Arnim and his discussions with Christian IV for Denmark to join the emperor.⁶⁸ Ferdinand named him ‘boss’ (General Capo) for three months on 15 December, renegotiating this as the situation continued to deteriorate. Once Maximilian signalled agreement, Ferdinand formalized the arrangement at Göllersdorf, north of Vienna on 13 April 1632. The original copy is lost, probably destroyed along with other papers that might have incriminated Ferdinand after Wallenstein’s murder, forcing us to reconstruct the terms from various near-contemporary printed versions.⁶⁹

In addition to a generous salary and safeguards for his properties, Wallenstein secured unconstrained military and plenipotentiary powers in absolutissima forma. This was intended to end the friction with Vienna that Wallenstein believed had led to his dismissal. Ferdinand accepted it, because he believed Wallenstein was the only man who could retrieve the situation. While some claim the treaty made Wallenstein a dictator, he remained subordinate to the emperor whose agreement would be necessary for any treaty to be binding. Wallenstein could now issue recruiting patents and appoint colonels, but all senior promotions remained subject to imperial approval. He was permitted to draw on the resources of the Habsburg hereditary lands, but this was scarcely surprising given that the Imperialists had been driven out of the rest of Germany. Wallenstein’s reappointment also enhanced Ferdinand’s authority by ending the dual command structure conceded to Maximilian in 1630. Tilly’s death on 30 April 1632 removed any potential complication over who was senior general. Maximilian assumed command of his own troops in Bavaria, advised by Aldringen, while Pappenheim at last obtained unhindered independent command over the scattered imperial and Liga garrisons in north-west Germany.

Despite his new powers, Wallenstein remained isolated. His father-in-law Count Harrach’s death and Eggenberg’s resignation removed his principal supporters in Vienna. Several of his earlier collaborators had left, either joining the other side like Arnim, or were incapacitated like Conti, terminally ill with tuberculosis. He relied heavily on Gallas and Aldringen, both of whom he promoted in December 1631. Other subordinates were drawn from the existing colonels, notably Bönninghausen, a minor Westphalian noble distinguished primarily by his ability to raise cavalry, and Baron Götz, a Lüneburg Lutheran who defected from the wreck of Mansfeld’s army in 1626 and was made a general in 1633. Colonel Hendrik Holk left Denmark only in March 1630, but was already an imperial field marshal by December 1632. These were all men of ability and experience. Nonetheless, it is striking that Wallenstein now favoured his brother-in-law Trčka, who rose from colonel to senior general in just two years. He also promoted Christian Ilow, a smarmy minor Brandenburg noble whose gossipy, excitable manner he had previously despised, but who was now promoted and became his principal subordinate after Holk’s death in September 1633.

The relatively rapid reconstruction of the imperial army after December 1631 was assisted by the presence of men left unemployed since the reductions of the previous year, as well as recruits from the Habsburg lands willing to enlist for only half the previous bounty.⁷⁰ Regiments were generally smaller than those of the 1620s, partly of necessity, but also reflecting the new tactical thinking that favoured units of 500 to 1,000 men in place of the larger tercios. The infantry now deployed in seven to ten ranks, or about half the previous depth, to maximize their firepower, reduce vulnerability to artillery fire and improve command and control. Both the Liga and imperial foot were trained to fire salvos and were accompanied by regimental guns like the Swedes. Cavalry regiments were still intended to be 1,000 strong, but often remained weaker. In battle they were grouped into squadrons of 100 to 400 men, with inexperienced troopers more likely to form the larger units, while veterans deployed in smaller numbers. Squadrons drew up in four to five ranks like the Dutch, but still a rank deeper than the Swedes. Experience remained the decisive factor in battlefield performance and the imperial cavalry that fled at Lützen (1632) and Hessisch-Oldendorf (1633) did so because they were composed of recruits, not because their organization or deployment was inferior to that of the Swedes.

ZENITH

The Expansion and Regionalization of the War

The war had now entered its most destructive phase and both sides fielded around 100,000 men each. The 1632 campaign marked the zenith of Swedish power in Germany and was the most intensive of the entire war as Gustavus sought to consolidate his empire. Five major battles were fought at Bamberg, the Lech, Steinau, Alte Veste and Lützen, in addition to numerous smaller engagements. The location of these actions indicates the greater scope of the conflict, but also its increasingly regional character, dictated by the Empire’s physical and political geography. The logistical difficulties of concentrating large numbers of troops in one place combined with the dependency of Sweden and the emperor on German allies to scatter the rival armies across the Empire, establishing the strategic pattern that persisted, with some important modifications, until 1648.

At this point, each side fielded several large armies simultaneously, contributing to the frequency of major battles. As overall troop strength declined after 1635, the number of field armies fell, initially to two apiece, and then one each by 1647. Regional operations persisted because the rapid spread of hostilities in 1631–2 left each belligerent with garrisons across the Empire. These outposts, often supplemented by a few additional regiments, pursued their own struggles for regional dominance against local rivals. They survived by levying contributions in their immediate vicinity, encouraging what contemporaries termed the ‘little war’ of raids and sieges to obtain additional resources and capture more territory. Garrisons provided bases for the main armies should they need to operate in that region. Infantry could be drawn out as temporary reinforcements, and artillery taken from large fortresses to provide a siege train. Later, especially from 1638 as the field forces dwindled, scratch armies could be improvised from garrison infantry, new recruits and whatever regiments were still available.

The principal imperial effort concentrated on defending the emperor’s hereditary possessions against Swedish and (until 1634) Saxon attacks. This remained the main theatre of imperial operations apart from a temporary recovery between 1634 and 1638 when the main army moved to the Rhine and then the Elbe. The ability of the senior imperial commander to send aid elsewhere depended on the security of Bohemia and Silesia, not least since these now provided much of the money sustaining the Imperialists. The main Liga army was reduced to Bavarian regiments defending their home and pushing into Franconia and Swabia when possible. The remaining Liga units were concentrated in Westphalia. Some were deployed west of the Rhine to guard against possible Dutch incursions, while the bulk, numbering under 10,000 men in early 1632, were scattered in positions to the east, and included the Imperialists holding out in Wolfenbüttel.

The Westphalians faced over 50,000 men raised by Gustavus’s Lower Saxon and Hessian collaborators whose mutual rivalry split them into six corps with divergent agendas. Gustavus made matters worse by trying to direct operations by courier and then summoning 20,000 soldiers to join him in Franconia in the middle of the year. Pappenheim conducted a brilliant campaign, spreading rumours he was advancing with 10,000 men, rather than the 3,000 he could draw from his garrisons. Dashing east in January, he rescued the 3,500 men holding out in Magdeburg, withdrew the best cannon, tipped the others into the Elbe, blew up the fortifications and escaped to Wolfenbüttel in the fog. Having surprised the Swedes and Hessians at Höxter in March, he repeated the coup by evacuating the Stade garrison. He then spent the summer running rings around his opponents who failed to combine against his troops.⁷¹

The imperial units remaining in south-west Germany passed to the now autonomous Tirolean administration in Innsbruck. A few isolated garrisons contested control of Alsace against the much larger army of the Rhenish counts operating from Mainz. The remainder clung onto the strategic routes around the Black Forest. A strong garrison guarded the Rhine bridge at Breisach and held the less-defensible provincial capital of Freiburg. Other detachments garrisoned the four Forest Towns (Waldstädte) of Rheinfelden, Laufenburg, Säckingen and Waldshut that controlled the Upper Rhine between Basel and Lake Constance. This was the only feasible way from Alsace around the southern end of the Black Forest where the route divided. One branch ran north east to the upper reaches of the Danube around the Württemberg enclave of Tuttlingen and thence to Bavaria. This route was overlooked by the duke’s impregnable castle of Hohentwiel perched on an extinct volcano 263 metres above the surrounding plain. The other branch ran east through the towns of Überlingen, Lindau and Radolfzell along the northern shore of Lake Constance to the Bregenzer Klause, the pass giving access to the Tirol and Valtellina. The area between the lake, the Danube and the Bavarian frontier was studded with walled imperial cities, notably Ravensburg, Kempten, Memmingen, Ulm and Augsburg. The emperor was rarely able to devote significant resources to defending these positions, despite a strategic importance that grew with French intervention in 1635. Defence was left largely to local militia, especially in Villingen and the imperial city of Rottweil which guarded the back door from Württemberg through the Black Forest to Breisach.

After Archduke Leopold’s death in September 1632, responsibility for his Austrian and Tirol lands passed to his widow, the indomitable Princess Claudia of Tuscany, as regent for their son. Highly intelligent, she pursued her own military and diplomatic strategy, often with little help from Vienna.⁷² As in Westphalia, regional defence was assisted by disunity among her opponents. Württemberg would have preferred neutrality and continued discussions with Swabian Catholics and Bavaria until May 1632, when Swedish pressure obliged Regent Julius Friedrich to sign an offensive alliance. Gustavus not only restored the monasteries lost to restitution, but promised Württemberg the Catholic secular principality of Fürstenberg as a Swedish fief. Julius Friedrich did not expect to retain additional territory, but saw temporary gains as bargaining chips to exchange for Catholic renunciation of restitution. Like the Guelphs, he pursued his own war, largely without Swedish support and only loosely in cooperation with his neighbour Baden-Durlach across the Black Forest. Württemberg forces numbered around 6,200, but were mainly militia and lacked adequate siege artillery. They only began action after the initial Catholic panic subsided. Whereas towns had fallen like ninepins after Breitenfeld, the Catholic population soon learned that surrender would bring expropriation, persecution and extortion.

The new resolve was demonstrated by several episodes after Horn broke the truce with Bavaria by attacking the city of Bamberg on 10 February. Abandoned by the Liga regulars, the Bamberg citizens and militia held for nine hours until their ammunition ran out and they had to surrender. If stiffened by a few professionals, militia could defy even large forces. But then, despite holding the capital, the Swedes never controlled the rest of Bamberg because the two small fortified towns of Kronach and Forchheim repulsed all efforts to take them throughout the war. Though Rottweil fell to Württemberg in January 1633, Villingen likewise remained impregnable, and the Tirolean peasants repulsed Bernhard of Weimar’s attempt to seize the Bregenzer Klause in July 1632.

The Battles of Bamberg and the Lech

Horn’s attack on Bamberg renewed the war in earnest. Tilly drew in garrisons from the Upper Palatinate, called up 8,000 Bavarian militia, and advanced north from Nördlingen with 22,000 men to surprise Horn at the city on the evening of 9 March. There were only two Swedish regiments present, with the rest of the 12,000 men being German recruits assembled by the Bohemian exiles and Gustavus’s new local collaborators. The Liga advance guard routed Horn’s cavalry outposts south-east of the city. The fleeing troopers panicked the defenders behind their unfinished entrenchments in the suburb east of the river Regnitz. The Imperialists broke in at the Heiligengrab convent where Sister Junius saw how a Croat ‘cut down a Swede on our field… splitting his head from back to front leaving an ear hanging down’.⁷³ The defenders were soon overwhelmed, but a fierce fight developed at the bridge giving access to the main part of the city to the west. After two of Horn’s infantry regiments retook the bridge, Tilly placed two heavy guns in a beer garden to fire across the river. The first shot allegedly mortally wounded Count Solms-Laubach, a veteran of White Mountain. ‘The next passed through a house and through two walls of the next where a child was sleeping in its crib, doing no damage beyond depositing some dust on the infant.’ The struggle continued until midnight, when the Swedish rearguard abandoned the city now that the rest of the army had escaped. Horn lost a third of his army, largely through desertion, and retreated to Schweinfurt.

Tilly was too weak to exploit his victory, while Gustavus had to act to maintain the momentum of success: already Württemberg was hesitating to sign its alliance because of Horn’s defeat. The king marched from Mainz, collecting Horn and other units to enter Nuremberg where he was hailed as the avenging ‘lion of midnight’ two weeks later on 31 March. Within a week he had captured Donauwörth, the success marred by the indiscriminate massacre of surrendering Catholic soldiers and welcoming Protestant burghers.⁷⁴ Further reinforcements gave him 37,000 men and 72 cannon – sufficient to attack Bavaria.

Gustavus faced the dilemma confronting all invaders. The Danube cut the electorate in two, with only a few bridges at Ingolstadt, Kehlheim, the great imperial city of Regensburg, and finally at Straubing and Passau further east. He could not attack both north and south without dividing his army, and so he decided to invade the southern side since this contained the rich capital of Munich. This necessitated crossing the Lech that flowed from the Upper Bavarian mountains down the Swabian frontier to join the Danube between Donauwörth and Ingolstadt. The main bridge at Augsburg was still held by 5,000 Bavarians, while others secured the other crossing at Rain where the Lech joined the Danube. Tilly and Aldringen had entrenched 21,000 men and 20 guns on the firm ground south of Rain. The Lech divided into a series of parallel, fast-flowing streams each 60 to 80 metres wide. Heavy spring rain and melting mountain snow had swollen them to a depth of at least 4 metres, while most of the Bavarian bank consisted of semi-submerged woods or marsh. Crossing this obstacle was to be one of Gustavus’s greatest achievements.

The only practical route lay five kilometres south of Rain where there was an island separated from the western bank by a deep channel, but from which it was possible to ford to the eastern side. Gustavus drew up on the open ground directly opposite Tilly’s camp on 14 April and began an artillery bombardment suggesting he would try to cross here. Meanwhile, other troops moved into the woods opposite the island

and bridged the channel. Musketeers collected on the island the next morning. Covered by a smoke screen of burning wet straw mixed with gunpowder, 334 Finns, motivated by the promise of five months’ extra pay, rowed across to the Bavarian bank. Pre-fabricated bridge sections were then floated across and secured, enabling the rest of the army to start crossing covered by the fire of additional batteries concealed in the woods on the western bank and on the island.

Tilly despatched troops as soon as he learned of the crossing and a fierce fight developed south of the Liga encampment. Unknown to Tilly, however, 2,000 elite Swedish cavalry had forded the Lech two kilometres further south and arrived as the fighting reached its climax at 4 p.m. Aldringen was temporarily blinded by a small cannonball striking a glancing blow, while Tilly’s right thigh was shattered by a 3-pound ball and he lost consciousness, dying two weeks later. Command devolved to the personally brave but inexperienced Bavarian elector, who ordered a retreat. Both sides had lost about 2,000 men, but the retreat led to a further 1,000 Bavarians and imperial troops being captured. The defeat demoralized the Augsburg garrison, who accepted the honours of war and marched out ten days later.⁷⁵

Maximilian reinforced the Ingolstadt and Regensburg garrisons and retreated north of the Danube. Gustavus lost almost as many men as at the Lech in a futile attempt to storm Ingolstadt on 3 May. He could not press on into Austria with Maximilian poised on his flank, so he devastated the southern half of the electorate in an effort to force Maximilian to make peace. Accompanied by Frederick V, Gustavus entered Munich on 17 May, staying ten days to dig up 119 cannon that had been buried on Maximilian’s orders and take whatever else the Bavarians had not managed to move to the mountains. His attendance at a Catholic mass convinced no one of his tolerance. Catholic peasants waged a bitter guerrilla war against the invaders that spread into Swabia and was directed against Swedish plundering.⁷⁶ Maximilian remained defiant. Gustavus stayed around Augsburg until he had bullied Württemberg and the other Swabians to join him, and then marched north through Donauwörth to confront Wallenstein’s new army.

The Battles of Steinau and Alte Veste

Wallenstein had brought the imperial army back up to about 65,000 men. He advanced from Znaim into Bohemia with nearly half that number at the end of April. Saxon resistance collapsed. The Saxons and Bohemian exiles had thoroughly alienated the Bohemians by their plundering so that even the Protestants were glad to see them re-cross the mountains in mid-June. Wallenstein decided against invading Saxony. Leaving troops to guard Bohemia and Silesia, he headed west to join Maximilian at Eger on 1 July. Both men made an effort to get along. Maximilian was careful to address Wallenstein as duke of Mecklenburg, and loaned him 300,000 fl. for provisions.

Gustavus had left Johann Georg to fight alone. He knew the elector was still negotiating with Wallenstein and feared he might defect. He headed northwards, entrenching at Nuremberg on 16 June when he learned imperial detachments were already moving to intercept him. It would have been safer to have marched north-west to Würzburg to be closer to his other armies in Lower Saxony and the Rhineland, but Gustavus could not afford to lose a prominent Protestant city like Nuremberg. Six thousand peasants were conscripted to dig a huge ditch around the city and emplace 300 cannon borrowed from the city’s arsenal. The cavalry were left outside to maintain communications while Gustavus waited for his other armies to join him.

Having arrived on 17 July, Wallenstein resolved not to repeat Tilly’s mistake at Werben and to starve the Swedes out rather than attacking their entrenchments. He built his own camp west of the city at Zirndorf that was 16km in circumference and entailed felling 13,000 trees and shifting the equivalent of 21,000 modern truck-loads of earth.⁷⁷ Imperial garrisons in Fürth, Forchheim and other towns commanded the roads into Nuremberg, while cavalry patrolled the countryside. Gustavus was trapped. He had 18,000 soldiers, but faced insurmountable supply problems as the city’s 40,000 inhabitants had been joined by 100,000 refugees. The Imperialists burned all the mills outside the Swedish entrenchments and the defenders were soon on half rations.

The situation was initially much better in Wallenstein’s camp because it received supplies from as far away as Bohemia and Austria. Things worsened with the hotter weather in August though. The concentration of 55,000 troops and around 50,000 camp followers produced at least four tonnes of human excrement daily, in addition to the waste from the 45,000 cavalry and baggage horses. The camp was swarming with rats and flies, spreading disease. Wallenstein had become a victim of his own strategy and by mid-August his army was no longer fully operational after the Swedes captured a supply convoy. He was unable to intercept a relief force of 24,000 men and 3,000 supply wagons sent by Oxenstierna to join Gustavus.

As tension mounted in Franconia, Johann Georg tried to improve his bargaining position by sending Arnim to invade Silesia. The hagiography surrounding Gustavus has overshadowed these events that involved significant numbers of troops and are very revealing about tension within Sweden’s alliance. Arnim had 12,000 Saxons, plus 3,000 Brandenburgers and 7,000 Swedes. The latter were under the command of Jacob Duwall, born MacDougall in Scotland, who had served Sweden since 1607 and raised two German regiments that formed the bulk of his corps, and whose presence was to ensure Arnim remained loyal.⁷⁸ Duwall was a man of considerable energy, but like many professional officers he had become an alcoholic.

Imperial reinforcements were rushed from Bohemia to join the Silesian garrisons under the elderly Marradas, who collected 20,000 men at Steinau, an important Oder crossing between Glogau and Breslau. He entrenched on the Gallows Hill, south-east of Steinau, between it and the river, and posted cavalry on the Sand Hill west of the town to watch the approach. Musketeers occupied the Geisendorf suburb to the west and a nearby churchyard. The advance guard under the firebrand Duwall arrived at midday on 29 August, and immediately engaged the imperial cavalry. After two hours of skirmishing the Imperialists retreated into the marshy Kalterbach valley south of Steinau. Saxon artillery had now arrived on the Sand Hill and compelled the cavalry to retreat further into Marradas’s camp, exposing the musketeers. Duwall’s younger brother led 1,000 Swedish and Brandenburg musketeers who stormed the suburb and churchyard. The Imperialists set the town on fire to forestall further attack, virtually destroying it. Duwall wanted to press on, but Arnim refused. The two were barely on speaking terms and Duwall was convinced Arnim was still negotiating with the enemy on the Gallows Hill.

Rather than assault the camp the next day, Arnim marched south to Dieban further upstream where he built a bridge, intending to cross and

cut Marradas off from the other side. Marradas belatedly attacked Dieban, but was repulsed on 4 September and retreated, having left a small detachment at the Steinau bridge to delay pursuit. The allied losses were slight, but the Imperialists lost 6,000, mainly prisoners or men who fled during the initial engagement. The losses indicate the continued poor condition of parts of the imperial army, especially when irresolutely led. Arnim pressed on, taking Breslau and Schweidnitz where he reversed the re-Catholicization measures. The Imperialists were driven into the mountains. Arnim had conquered Silesia with fewer troops and against greater odds than Frederick II of Prussia’s celebrated invasion in 1740.

Wallenstein decided to punish Saxony, and ordered Holk with 10,000 men from Forchheim to invade the Vogtland that formed the south-western tip of Johann Georg’s territory. As Holk began systematic plundering to intimidate the elector, the pressure mounted on Gustavus to break out of Nuremberg. The reinforcements sent by Oxenstierna arrived on 27 August, giving him the largest army he ever commanded: 28,000 infantry, 17,000 cavalry and 175 field guns. Disease and Holk’s detachment had reduced Wallenstein’s force to 31,000 foot and 12,000 horse. The odds were still not in Gustavus’s favour, especially considering Wallenstein was entrenched on high ground above the Rednitz river over 6km from Gustavus’s camp. The river prevented attack from the east, while the more open southern and western sides were furthest from Gustavus and would be difficult to reach without exposing his flank. This left the north, held by Liga units under Aldringen, and which was the strongest, highest side. The entrenchments were covered by abatis, the seventeenth-century equivalent of First World War barbed-wire entanglements made by felling and trimming trees to leave only sharpened branches pointing towards the enemy. The ruined castle that gave the position its name (Alte Veste) provided an additional strong point.

Surprise was impossible. Gustavus’s intentions were clear once he seized Fürth to cross the Rednitz on the night of 1–2 September. There is some indication that Gustavus only attacked because he thought Wallenstein was withdrawing, but this was probably put about just to excuse the debacle.⁷⁹ The king planned to pin Wallenstein with artillery fire from east of the Rednitz, while he and Wilhelm of Weimar attacked Aldringen, and Bernhard of Weimar worked his way round to hit the weaker western side. A preliminary bombardment failed to silence the

imperial artillery. Gustavus pressed on regardless, sending his infantry up the wooded northern slope early on 3 September. Thin drizzle had already made the ground slippery, and it proved impossible to bring up the regimental guns as the rain grew heavier during the day. The assault was renewed repeatedly into the night, but only gained a few imperial outworks on the western side. Gustavus gave up. He retreated covered by his cavalry, having lost at least 1,000 killed and 1,400 badly wounded. General Banér’s wounds left him incapacitated for the rest of the year. Worse, demoralization prompted 11,000 men to desert. Altogether, at least 29,000 people died in Gustavus’s camp during the prolonged stand-off, while animal casualties left only 4,000 of his cavalry mounted by the end.

Unable to remain in Nuremberg, Gustavus pulled out on 15 September. He waited a week at Windsheim to the west, before deciding that Wallenstein no longer posed an immediate threat and marching south, intending to winter in Swabia. Wallenstein had lost less than 1,000 men, but his army was sick. So many horses had died that 1,000 wagons of supplies were abandoned when he burned his camp on 21 September. He moved north, overrunning the rest of Franconia and into Thuringia, while Gallas marched through north-east Bohemia to reinforce Holk’s raiders putting pressure on Saxony. The Imperialists occupied Meissen and despatched Croats towards Dresden with the message that Johann Georg would no longer need candles for his banquets as the Imperialists would now provide light by burning Saxony’s villages.

Maximilian and Wallenstein parted ways at Coburg in mid-October. The elector agreed that Pappenheim and the Liga field force would join Wallenstein from Westphalia in return for Aldringen and fourteen imperial regiments being assigned to stiffen the Bavarians. The arrangement proved unsatisfactory, and the resulting acrimony revealed the continued tension between Maximilian and the emperor. Wallenstein complained that Pappenheim did not arrive fast enough, and indeed repeated orders had to be sent before that general finally gave up his independent role and marched to Saxony.⁸⁰ Maximilian resented Aldringen for still reporting to Wallenstein, who already recalled some of the regiments by late November. Maximilian returned south to protect Bavaria, while Wallenstein marched north-east into Saxony, ordering the plundering to stop as he now intended to winter in the electorate.

The Battle of Lützen

Gustavus realized his mistake. Wallenstein was not only threatening his principal ally, but endangering communications with the Baltic bridgehead. Against Oxenstierna’s advice, he raced north, covering 650km in 17 days at the cost of 4,000 horses. En route he passed Maximilian heading in the opposite direction. The armies were only 25km apart, but unaware of each other’s presence. The main Saxon army was still with Arnim in Silesia. Johann Georg had only 4,000 men, plus 2,000 Lüneburgers under Duke Georg who shadowed Pappenheim through Lower Saxony. Leipzig surrendered a second time to the Imperialists and its commandant was executed by the furious elector, who then made his widow pay the cost of the court martial.⁸¹

Pappenheim joined Wallenstein on 7 November, while the Saxons retreated into Torgau and Gustavus rested at Erfurt after his long march. It was now very cold. Wallenstein dispersed his troops to find food, sending Colonel Hatzfeldt with 2,500 men to watch Torgau. Pappenheim was restless, wanting to return to Westphalia where the Swedes were known to be picking off his garrisons. Sick with gout, Wallenstein lacked the energy to argue, and let him go with 5,800 men. Gallas was summoned from the Bohemian frontier to replace him, but it would be some time before he arrived.

Gustavus had moved east down the Saale, taking Naumburg on 10 November. He decided to force a battle, hoping for another Breitenfeld to restore his reputation, dented by Alte Veste. As he approached the Imperialists, he learned from peasants how weak Wallenstein was and pressed on to catch him. General Rodolfo Colloredo, commanding a detachment of 500 dragoons and Croats, blocked him at the marshy Rippach stream east of Weissenfels, delaying him for four hours on 15 November. It was now too late for battle, and Gustavus was forced to camp for the night.⁸²

Wallenstein abandoned his retreat to Leipzig when he received word from Colloredo, halting at Lützen still 20km short of his destination. He had only 8,550 foot, 3,800 horse and 20 heavy guns. His right was protected by the marshy Mühlgraben stream. The Weissenfels–Leipzig highway crossed this at Lützen, a town that comprised 300 houses and an old castle surrounded by a wall. Wallenstein guessed correctly that Gustavus would not attempt another frontal assault, but would cross further south-east to outflank him. Accordingly, he drew up just north east of the town parallel to the road. Musketeers spent the night widening the ditches either side of the road, while Holk supervised deployment of the main army, lighting candles to guide units into position. Four hundred musketeers were posted in Lützen to secure the right, and thirteen guns were placed on the slight rise of Windmill Hill just north of the town. Around half the cavalry drew up behind with the rest on the left. The infantry deployed in between in two lines, with another 7 guns on their left and 420 musketeers lining the ditches in front. There were not enough cavalry to cover the gap from the left to the Flossgraben ditch that cut the highway beyond Wallenstein’s position. Isolano’s 600 Croats were posted as a screen across the gap with the camp followers and baggage massed in the rear holding sheets as flags to create the impression of powerful forces behind. They were supposed to wait until Pappenheim, recalled during the night, could replace them.

Johann Georg refused to send reinforcements from Torgau, but Gustavus had nearly 13,000 infantry, 6,200 cavalry and 20 heavy guns and so remained confident. His army assembled in thick fog about 3,000 metres to the west early on 16 November to hear the king’s stirring address. As Wallenstein predicted, Gustavus swung east across the Mühlgraben and then north over the Flossgraben to deploy around 10 a.m. in front of him. The action began as the fog lifted around an hour later and the Swedes made a general advance towards the imperial positions. Gustavus used his customary deployment in two lines, with the cavalry on the flanks stiffened with musketeer detachments. The best infantry were in the first line, while the king commanded most of the Swedish and Finnish horse on the right and Bernhard of Weimar led the 3,000 mainly German troopers on the left.

The Croats soon scattered, prompting the decoy troops to take to their heels. Gustavus was nonetheless delayed by the musketeers hidden in the ditch. Widely cited reports that Wallenstein spent the day carried in a litter stem from Swedish propaganda. Despite pain from gout, he mounted his horse to conduct an energetic defence. Lützen was set on fire to stop the Swedes entering and turning his flank. The wind blew the smoke into his enemies’ faces and, as at Breitenfeld, it quickly became impossible to see what was happening. Bernhard’s men were unable to take either Lützen or Windmill Hill. The real chance lay on the other flank where Gustavus had more space to go round the end of the imperial

line. Wallenstein switched cavalry from his right to stem the king’s advance.

Pappenheim arrived in the early afternoon with 2,300 cavalry, having ridden 35km through the night. His arrival encouraged the Croats to return and together they drove the Swedes back across the road. The veteran Swedish infantry also suffered heavy casualties and fell back, having failed to dislodge the imperial centre. Wilhelm of Weimar’s bodyguard fled, panicking the Swedish baggage which also took off. Several imperial units had also broken, and both armies were losing cohesion. Pappenheim had been shot dead early in his attack; Wallenstein’s order summoning him was later retrieved bloodstained from his body. The battle disintegrated into isolated attacks by individual units.

Gustavus appears to have got lost as he rode to rally his shattered infantry and was shot, probably by an imperial infantry corporal. His entourage tried to lead him to safety, but blundered into the confused cavalry mêlée still in progress amid the smoke on the right where he was shot again, by Lieutenant Moritz Falkenberg, a Catholic relation of the defender of Magdeburg, who himself was then slain by the Swedish master of horse.⁸³ The fatal shot burned the face of Franz Albrecht of Lauenburg who was accompanying the king as a volunteer. Under attack himself, Franz Albrecht could no longer support the king in his saddle and he fell dead to the ground. The Swedes never forgave the duke for abandoning their monarch’s body, which was subsequently stabbed and stripped by looters. Rumours of the king’s death added to the growing despondency in the Swedish ranks. Knyphausen, commanding the infantry, insisted Gustavus was only wounded and the royal chaplain, Jacob Fabricius, organized psalm singing to boost morale. Unaware of what had happened, Bernhard continued his fruitless attacks on Lützen.

The fighting subsided around 3 p.m. Knyphausen advised retreat, but Bernhard, now appraised of the situation, urged another assault that finally carried Windmill Hill. Firing ceased two hours later, after dark. Pappenheim’s 3,000 infantry arrived an hour after that. Wallenstein was exhausted and appalled at the loss of at least 3,000 dead and wounded, including many senior officers. He decided to retreat and abandoned his artillery and another 1,160 wounded, who were left behind in Leipzig as he fell back into Bohemia. The Swedes lost 6,000 and were on the point of retreating themselves when a prisoner revealed that the Imperialists had already gone.

The disparity of the losses, magnified by Gustavus’s presence among the Swedish dead, fuelled the controversy over who really won. Protestant propaganda and Gustavus’s firm place on later staff college curricula have ensured that Lützen is generally hailed as ‘a great Swedish victory’.⁸⁴Wallenstein showed far superior generalship, whereas Gustavus relied on an unimaginative frontal assault with superior numbers. The Swedes were able to claim victory because Wallenstein lost his nerve and retreated, not least because he was not certain until 25 November that Gustavus was dead. Wallenstein probably regretted this mistake. He certainly vented his fury on the units that had fled in the battle, insisting on executing eleven men, but he also distributed bonuses to the wounded and richly rewarded those who distinguished themselves like Holk and Piccolomini.

Lützen’s real significance lay in Gustavus’s death. The Swedes continued fighting, already helping the Saxons evict the remaining Imperialists from the electorate by January. But their purpose had changed and Oxenstierna sought, albeit with little success, to extricate his country under the best possible terms.