Protestants, who endeavoured to break its power by their paper weapons, the flying-sheets, and made it answerable for every political misdeed, whether far or near, but also in the Roman Catholic countries. Even there it was only a guest, influential certainly, and much prized, but from time to time ecclesiastics and laity felt that it was a thing apart from them. All the other spiritual societies had become national,--the Jesuits never. It is not unnatural that this feeling was strongest among the Roman Catholic ecclesiastics, for their worldly prospects were often injured by the Jesuits. Thus from the middle of the sixteenth century two opposite methods of mental cultivation, two different sources of morals and working power have struggled against one another. Devotion and unconditional subjection, against feelings of duty and thoughtful self-assertion; rapid and unhesitating decision, against conscientious doubts; a spirit of energy, working laboriously with much deliberation and scheming after distant aims, against defective discipline; and an urging to unity, against a striving for separation. These opposing powers appeared everywhere, especially in politics and at the courts of princes. Protestantism in its unfinished shape, though it had elevated the people, was no help to the formation of the character of the German princes; it had raised higher their external power, but it had lessened their inward stability; their youthful training became in general too theological to be practical. However immoral many of them were, they all suffered from conscientious doubts; and there was no ready answer for these doubts, such as the Roman Catholic confessor had always in store for them. The Protestant princes stood isolated; there was no firm bond of union between the Churches of the different states, but much trivial quarrelling and bitter hatred, not only between Lutherans and Reformers, but even amongst the followers of the Augsburg confession; and this diminished the strength of the princes. Whilst the priests of the Roman Catholic Church did their best to unite their rulers, the Protestant ecclesiastics helped to increase the disunion of theirs. So it is not surprising, that the Protestants for a long time stood at a disadvantage in their political struggle with the old faith. The Germans had not yet found, and did not for centuries attain to, the new constitution of State, which transfers the mainspring of government from the accidental will of the ruler, to the conscience of the nation, and which places in a regulated path, citizens of talent and integrity as advisers to the crown; public opinion was still weak, the daily press not yet in existence, and the relation between the political rights of the princes and the people very undefined. Protestantism had everywhere produced political convulsions, from the peasant war even into the following century. The Reformation had unloosed all tongues, it had given the Germans a freer judgment upon their position as citizens, and had inspired individuals with the courage to fight for their own convictions. The peasant now loudly murmured against exorbitant burdens, the members of guilds against the selfish dominion of the corporations, and the noble members of the provincial estates against the extravagant demands of the sovereign for war expenses. The wild democratic disturbances of 1525 were with Luther's entire approbation easily put down, but democratic tendencies did not therefore cease, and together with them, anabaptist and socialist views spread from city to city. Their teaching, which scarcely forms a system, took a different colouring in different individuals, from the harmless theorist who imagined a community of good citizens without egotism, full of self-abnegation, as did the talented Eberlin, to the reckless fanatic who tried to establish a new Zion at Münster, with an illusive community of goods and wives. These excitements lost their power towards the end of the century, but still continued to ferment among the people, especially in those provinces, where the Protestant opposition of the estates excited the people against the old faith of the rulers of the country. Thus it was in Bohemia, Moravia, and Upper Austria. The more zealously the Hapsburgers endeavoured, by means of the Jesuits, to restore the old faith, the more it was kept in check, even in their own country, by the demands of the opposition in the estates, and the commotions among the people. And well did they perceive the threatening connection of this opposition to their house. Two ways only were therefore open to them, either they must themselves have become Protestants, which they found impossible, or they must have resolutely destroyed the dangerous teaching and pretensions which upset the souls of men everywhere, especially in their own country. The Hapsburger appeared who attempted this. Meanwhile the spirit of the old Church had been raised, by the great victories which it had gained in other countries. The Protestant princes combined against the threatened offensive movement of the Roman Catholic party, as before at Smalkald, and the Roman Catholic party answered by the formation of the League; but the object at heart, of the League was attack, while that of the Protestants was only defence. This was the political state of Germany before the Thirty years' war; a most unsatisfactory state. Discontent was general, a mournful tendency, a disposition to prophecy evil, were the significant signs of the times. Every deed of violence which was announced to the people in the flying-sheets, was accompanied by remarks on the bad times. And yet we know for certain that immorality had not become strikingly greater in the country. There was wealth in the cities, and even in the country increase of prosperity; there was regular government everywhere, better order and greater security of existence, luxury and an inordinate love of enjoyment had undoubtedly increased, together with riches; even among the lower strata of the people greed was awakened, life became more varied and dearer, and much indifference began to be shown concerning the quarrels of ecclesiastics. The best began to be gloomy, and even cheerful natures, like the honest Bartholomäus Ringwald, became prophets of misfortune, and wished for death. And there was good reason for this gloom. There was something diseased in the life of Germany, an incomprehensible burden weighed it down, which marred its development. Luther's teaching, it is true, produced the greatest spiritual and intellectual progress which Germany had ever made through one man, but the demands of life increased with every expansion of the soul. The new mental culture must be followed by a corresponding advance in earthly condition, a greater independence in faith, demanded imperiously a stronger power of political development But it was precisely this teaching, which appeared like the early dawn of a better life, that conveyed to the people the consciousness of their own political weakness, and by this weakness they became one-sided and narrow minded. Germany being divided into countless territories under weak princes, its people everywhere involved in and occupied with trifling disputes, were deficient in that which is indispensable to a genial growth; they needed a general elevation, a great united will, and a sphere of moral duties, which alone makes men pre-eminently cheerful and manly. The fatherland of the Germans extended probably from Lorraine to the Oder, but in no single portion of it did they live like the citizens of Elizabeth or Henry IV. Thus already inwardly diseased, Germany entered upon a war of thirty years. When the war ended, there was little remaining of the great nation. For yet a century to come, the successors of the survivors were deficient in that most manly of all feelings,--political enthusiasm. Luther had raised his people out of the epic life of the middle ages. The Thirty years' war had destroyed the popular strength, and forced the Germans into individual life, the mental constitution of which one may truly call lyrical. That which will here be depicted from the accounts of cotemporaries, is a sad joyless time.

CHAPTER I.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE ARMY.

The opposition between the interests of the house of Hapsburg and of the German nation, and between the old and new faith, led to a bloody catastrophe. If any one should inquire how such a war could rage through a whole generation, and so fearfully exhaust a powerful people, he will receive this striking answer, that the war was so long and terrible, because none of the contending parties were able to carry it out on a great and decisive scale. The largest armies in the Thirty years' war did not exceed in strength one corps of a modern army. Tilly considered forty thousand men the greatest number of troops that a general could wish to have. It was only occasionally that an army reached that strength; almost all the great battles were fought by smaller bodies of men. Numerous were the detachments, and very great were the losses by skirmishes, illnesses, and desertion. As there was no regular system for maintaining the strength of the army, its effective amount fluctuated in a remarkable way. Once, indeed, Wallenstein united a larger force under his command--according to some accounts a hundred thousand men--but they did not form one army, nay, they were hardly in any military connection, for the undisciplined bands with which, in 1629, he subdued the German territories of the Emperor, were dispersed over half Germany. Such large masses of soldiers appeared to all parties as a terrible venture; they could not, in fact, be kept under control, and after that, no general commanded more than half that number.^[1] An army in order of battle was considered as a movable fortress, the central point of which was the General himself, who ruled all the details; he had to survey the ground and every position, and every attack was directed by him. Adjutantcies and staff service were hardly established. It was part of the strategy to keep the army together in masses, to defend the ranks by earth works, and not to allow horse or man to be out of observation and control. In marching also, the army was kept close together in narrow quarters, generally within the space of a camp; from this arose commissariat difficulties, the high-roads were bad, often almost impassable, the conveyance of provisions compulsory, and always ill-regulated: and worst of all, the army was attended by an intense baggage-train, which, with the wild-robber system, quickly wasted the most fertile countries. Great care was therefore taken that no such embarrassment should arise. Neither the Emperor nor the Princes of the Empire were in a condition to maintain forty thousand men out of their income even for three months. The regular revenue of the sovereign was much less than now, and the maintenance of an army far more costly. The greater part of the revenue was derived from tithes in kind, which in time of war was insecure and difficult to realize. The finances of the parties engaged in this war were even at the commencement of it in a most lamentable state. In the winter of 1619 and 1620, half the Bohemian army died of hunger and cold, from the want of pay and a commissariat; in September 1620, more than four and a half million of gulden of pay was owing to the troops, and there were endless mutinies, and the King Palatine Frederick could not aid his Protestant allies with subsidies. The Emperor was then not in much better condition, but he soon afterwards obtained Spanish subsidies. When the Elector of Saxony, whose finances were better regulated, first hired fifteen hundred men in December, 1619, he could not pay them regularly. What was granted by the estates in war taxes, and the so-called voluntary contributions of the opulent, did not go far; loans even in the first year of the war were very difficult to realize; they were attempted with the banking-houses of southern Germany, and also in Hamburg, but seldom with success. City communities were considered safer debtors than the great princes. There were dealings about the smallest sums even with private individuals. Saxony in 1621, hoped to get from fifty to sixty thousand guldens from the Fuggers, and endeavoured in vain to borrow thirty and seventy thousand gulden from capitalists. Maximilian of Bavaria, and the League, made a great loan for the war of one million two hundred thousand gulden at twelve per cent, from the merchants in Genoa, for this the Fuggers became responsible, and the salt trade of Augsburg was given to them for their security. Just one hundred years before, this said banking-house had taken an important share in the election of the Emperor Charles V., and now it helped to secure the victory of the Roman Catholic party; for the Bohemian war was decided even more by the want of money than by the battle of the Weissen-Berge. Thus the war began with the governments being in a general state of insolvency; and therefore the maintenance of great armies became impossible. It is evident that there was a fatal disproportion between the military strength of the parties and the ultimate object of every war. None of them could entirely subdue their opponents. The armies were too small, and had too little durability, to be able to control by regular strategic operations, the numerous and warlike people of wide-spread districts. Whilst a victorious army was ruling near the Rhine or the Oder, a new enemy was collecting in the north on the shores of the Baltic. The German theatre of war, also, was not so constituted as to be easily productive of lasting results. Almost every city, and many country seats were fortified. The siege guns were still unwieldy and uncertain in their aim, and the defence of fortified places was proportionably stronger than the attack. Thus war became principally a combat of sieges; every captured town weakened the victorious army, from the necessity of leaving garrisons. When a province had been conquered, the conqueror was often not in a position to withstand the conquered in open battle. By new exertion the conqueror was driven from the field; then followed fresh sieges and captures, and again fatal disruption of strength. It was a war full of bloody battles and glorious victories, and also of excessive alternations of fortune. Numerous were the dark hero forms that loomed out of the chaos of blood and fire; the iron Ernst von Mansfeld, the fantastic Brunswicker, Bernhard of Weimar; and on the other side, Maximilian of Bavaria, and the generals of the League, Tilly, Pappenheim, and the able Mercy; the leaders of the Imperial army, the daring Wallenstein and Altringer; the great French heroes, Condé and Turenne, and amongst the Swedes, Horn, Bauer, Torstenson, Wrangel, and above all the mighty prince of war, Gustavus Adolphus. How much manly energy excited to the highest pitch, and yet how slow and poor were the political results obtained! how quickly was again lost, what appeared to have been obtained by the greatest amount of power! How often did the parties themselves change the objects after which they were striving, nay even the banner for which they desired victory! The political events of the war can only be briefly mentioned here; they may be divided into three periods. The first, from 1618 to 1630, is the time of the Imperial triumphs. The Protestant estates of Bohemia, contrary to law and their own word, refused the Bohemian crown to the Archduke Ferdinand, and chose for their ruler the Elector Palatine, a reformer. But by means of the League and the Lutheran Electors of Saxony, Ferdinand became Emperor. His opponent was beaten in the battle of the Weissen-Berge, and left the country as a fugitive. Here and there, the Protestant opposition continued to blaze up, but divided, without plan, and with weak resources. Baden-Durlach, the Mansfelder, the Brunswicker, and lastly the circle of lower