The Thirty Years' War, 1618-1648

§ 7. Turenne out-manœuvres the Bavarians.

The year before, the Elector of Saxony, crushed and ruined by the Swedes, had consented to a separate truce, and now Turenne was commissioned to do the same with Bavaria. In August he effected a junction on the Lahn with Wrangel and the Swedes, and if Enghien had been there, history would doubtless have had to tell of another butchery as resultless as those of Freiburg and Nördlingen. But Enghien was far away in Flanders, laying siege to Dunkirk, and Turenne, for the first time at the head of a superior force, was about to teach the world a lesson in the art of war. Whilst the enemy was preparing for the expected attack by entrenching his position, the united French and Swedish armies slipped past them and marched straight for the heart of Bavaria, where an enemy had not been seen since Bernhard had been chased out in 1634. That one day, as Turenne truly said, altered the whole face of affairs. Everywhere the roads were open. Provisions were plentiful. The population was in the enjoyment of the blessings of peace. Turenne and Wrangel crossed the Danube without difficulty. Schorndorf, Würzburg, Nördlingen, Donauwörth made no resistance to them. It was not till they came to Augsburg that they met with opposition. The enemy had time to come up. But there was no unanimity in the councils of the enemy. The Bavarian generals wanted to defend Bavaria. The imperialist generals wanted to defend the still remaining Austrian possessions in Swabia. The invaders were allowed to accomplish their purpose. They arrived at the gates of Munich before the citizens knew what had become of their master's army. With grim purpose Turenne and Wrangel set themselves to make desolate the Bavarian plain, so that it might be rendered incapable of supporting a Bavarian army. Maximilian was reduced to straits such as he had not known since the time when Tilly fell at the passage of the Lech. Sorely against his will he signed, in May, 1647, a separate truce with the enemy.

§ 8. Last struggles of the war.

The truce did not last long. In September Maximilian was once more on the Emperor's side. Bavaria paid dearly for the elector's defection. All that had been spared a year before fell a sacrifice to new devastation. The last great battle of the war was fought at Zusmarshausen on May 17, 1648. The Bavarians were defeated and the work of the destroyer went on yet for a while unchecked. In Bohemia half of Prague fell into the hands of the Swedes, and the Emperor was left unaided to bear up in the unequal fight.

Section II. —The Treaty of Westphalia

§ 1. The Peace of Westphalia.

Ferdinand could resist no longer. On the 24th of October, 1648, a few months before Charles I. ascended the scaffold at Whitehall, the Peace of Westphalia was signed.

§ 2. Religious settlement.

The religious difficulty in Germany was settled as it ought to have been settled long before. Calvinism was to be placed on the same footing as Lutheranism. New-Year's day 1624 was fixed upon as the date by which all disputes were to be tested. Whatever ecclesiastical benefice was in Catholic hands at that date was to remain in Catholic hands forever. Ecclesiastical benefices in Protestant hands at that date were to remain in Protestant keeping. Catholics would never again be able to lay claim to the bishoprics of the north. Even Halberstadt, which had been retained at the Peace of Prague, was now lost to them. To make this settlement permanent, the Imperial Court was reconstituted. Protestants and Catholics were to be members of the court in equal numbers. And if the judicial body was such as to make it certain that its sanction would never be given to an infringement of the peace, the Catholic majority in the Diet became powerless for evil.

§ 3. Political settlement.

In political matters, Maximilian permanently united the Upper Palatinate to his duchy of Bavaria, and the Electorate was confirmed to him and his descendants. An eighth electorate was created in favour of Charles Lewis, the worthless son of the Elector, Frederick, and the Lower Palatinate was given up to him. Sweden established herself firmly on the mouths of the great northern rivers. The Eastern part of Pomerania she surrendered to Brandenburg. But Western Pomerania, including within its frontier both banks of the lower Vistula, was surrendered to her; whilst the possession of the bishoprics of Bremen and Verdun, on which Christian of Denmark had set his eyes at the beginning of the war, gave her a commanding position at the mouths of the Elbe and the Weser. The bishoprics of Halberstadt, Camin, Minden, and the greater part of the diocese of Magdeburg, were made over to Brandenburg as a compensation for the loss of its claims to the whole of Pomerania, whilst a smaller portion of the diocese of Magdeburg was assigned to Saxony, that power, as a matter of course, retaining Lusatia.

§ 4. Gains of France.

France, as a matter of course, retained its conquests. It kept its hold upon Austrian Alsace, Strasburg, as a free city, and the immediate vassals of the Empire being, however, excluded from the cession. The strong fortress of Philippsburg, erected by the warlike Elector of Treves, received a French garrison, and the three bishoprics, Metz, Toul, and Verdun, which had been practically under French rule since the days of Henry II. of France, were now formally separated from the Empire. Equally formal was the separation of Switzerland and the Netherlands, both of which countries had long been practically independent.

§ 5. The question of toleration left to the German princes.

The importance of the peace of Westphalia in European history goes far beyond these territorial changes. That France should have a few miles more and Germany a few miles less, or even that France should have acquired military and political strength whilst Germany lost it, are facts which in themselves need not have any very great interest for others than Frenchmen or Germans. That which gives to the Peace of Westphalia its prominent place amongst treaties is that it drew a final demarcation between the two religions which divided Europe. The struggle in England and France for the right of settling their own religious affairs without the interference of foreign nations had been brought to a close in the sixteenth century. In Germany it had not been brought to a close for the simple reason that it was not decided how far Germany was a nation at all. The government of England or France could tolerate or persecute at home as far as its power or inclination permitted. But the central government of Germany was not strong enough to enforce its will upon the territorial governments; nor on the other hand were the territorial governments strong enough to enforce their will without regard for the central government. Thirty years of war ended by a compromise under which the religious position of each territory was fixed by the intervention of foreign powers, whilst the rights of the central government were entirely ignored.

§ 6. How toleration was the result of this.

Such a settlement was by no means necessarily in favour of religious toleration. The right of an Elector of Bavaria or an Elector of Saxony to impose his belief by force upon his dissident subjects was even more fully acknowledged than before. He could still give them their choice between conversion or banishment. As late as in 1729 an Archbishop of Salzburg could drive thousands of industrious Protestants into exile from his Alpine valleys, leaving a void behind them which has not been filled up to this day. But if such cases were rare, their rarity was indirectly owing to the Peace of Westphalia. In 1617 a bishop who had to consider the question of religious persecution, had to consider it with the fear of Christian of Anhalt before his eyes. Every Protestant in his dominions was a possible traitor who would favour, if he did not actively support, the revolutionary attacks of the neighbouring Protestants. In 1649 all such fear was at an end for ever. The bishop was undisputed master of his territory, and he could look on with contemptuous indifference if a few of his subjects had sufficient love of singularity to profess a religion other than his own.

§ 7. The Peace of Westphalia compared with the Peace of Augsburg.

It may perhaps be said that the assurance given by the Peace of Westphalia was after all no better than the assurance given by the Peace of Augsburg, but even so far as the letter of the two documents was concerned, this was very far from being the case. The Peace of Augsburg was full of uncertainties, because the contracting parties were unable to abandon their respective desires. In the Peace of Westphalia all was definite. Evasion or misinterpretation was no longer possible.

§ 8. General desire for the continuance of peace.

If the letter of the two treaties was entirely different, it was because the spirit in which they were conceived was also entirely different. In 1555 Protestantism was on the rise. The peace of 1555 was a vain attempt to shut out the tide by artificial dykes and barriers. In 1648 the tide had receded. The line which divided the Protestant from the Catholic princes formed almost an exact division between the Protestant and Catholic populations. The desire for making proselytes, once so strong on both sides, had been altogether extinguished by the numbing agony of the war. All Germany longed for peace with an inexpressible longing. The mutual distrust of Catholic and Protestant had grown exceedingly dull. The only feeling yet alive was hatred of the tyranny and exactions of the soldiers.

Section III. —Condition of Germany

§ 1. Effects of the war.

What a peace it was when it really came at last! Whatever life there was under that deadly blast of war had been attracted to the camps. The strong man who had lost his all turned soldier that he might be able to rob others in turn. The young girl, who in better times would have passed on to a life of honourable wedlock with some youth who had been the companion of her childhood in the sports around the village fountain, had turned aside, for very starvation, to a life of shame in the train of one or other of the armies by which her home had been made desolate. In the later years of the war it was known that a body of 40,000 fighting men drew along with it a loathsome following of no less than 140,000 men, women, and children, contributing nothing to the efficiency of the army, and all of them living at the expense of the miserable peasants who still contrived to hold on to their ruined fields. If these were to live, they must steal what yet remained to be stolen; they must devour, with the insatiable hunger of locusts, what yet remained to be devoured. And then, if sickness came, or wounds – and sickness was no infrequent visitor in those camps – what remained but misery or death? Nor was it much better with the soldiers themselves. No careful surgeons passed over the battle-field to save life or limb. No hospitals received the wounded to the tender nursing of loving, gentle hands. Recruits were to be bought cheaply, and it cost less to enrol a new soldier than to cure an old one.

§ 2. Decrease of the population.

The losses of the civil population were almost incredible. In a certain district of Thuringia which was probably better off than the greater part of Germany, there were, before the war cloud burst, 1,717 houses standing in nineteen villages. In 1649, only 627 houses were left. And even of the houses which remained many were untenanted. The 1,717 houses had been inhabited by 1,773 families. Only 316 families could be found to occupy the 627 houses. Property fared still worse. In the same district 244 oxen alone remained of 1,402. Of 4,616 sheep, not one was left. Two centuries later the losses thus suffered were scarcely recovered.

§ 3. Moral decadence.

And, as is always the case, the physical decline of the population was accompanied by moral decadence. Men who had been accustomed to live by the strong arm, and men who had been accustomed to suffer all things from those who were strong, met one another, even in the days of peace, without that mutual respect which forms the basis of well-ordered life. Courts were crowded with feather-brained soldiers whose highest ambition was to bedeck themselves in a splendid uniform and to copy the latest fashion or folly which was in vogue at Paris or Versailles. In the country district a narrow-minded gentry, without knowledge or culture, domineered over all around, and strove to exact the uttermost farthing from the peasant in order to keep up the outward appearance of rank. The peasant whose father had been bullied by marauding soldiers dared not lift up his head against the exactions of the squire. The burden of the general impoverishment fell heavily upon his shoulders. The very pattern of the chairs on which he sat, of the vessels out of which he ate and drank, assumed a ruder appearance than they had borne before the war. In all ranks life was meaner, poorer, harder than it had been at the beginning of the century.

§ 4. Intellectual decline even before the war.

If much of all this was the result of the war, something was owing to causes antecedently at work. The German people in the beginning of the seventeenth century was plainly inferior to the German people in the beginning of the sixteenth century. During the whole course of the war Maximilian of Bavaria was the only man of German birth who rose to eminence, and even he did not attain the first rank. The destinies of the land of Luther and Göthe, of Frederick II. and Stein were decided by a few men of foreign birth. Wallenstein was a Slavonian, Tilly a Walloon, Gustavus a Swede, Richelieu a Frenchman. The penalty borne by a race which was unable to control individual vigour within the limits of a large and fruitful national life was that individual vigour itself died out.

§ 5. Difficulties inherited from early times.

We may well leave to those who like such tasks the work of piling up articles of accusation against this man or that, of discovering that the war was all the fault of Ferdinand, or all the fault of Frederick, as party feeling may lead them. Probably the most lenient judgment is also the truest one. With national and territorial institutions the mere chaos which they were, an amount of political intelligence was needed to set them right which would be rare in any country or in any age.

§ 6. Total disintegration of Germany.

As far as national institutions were concerned the Thirty Years' War made a clean sweep in Germany. Nominally, it is true, Emperor and Empire still remained. Ferdinand III. was still according to his titles head of all Christendom, if not of the whole human race. The Diet still gathered to discuss the affairs of the Empire. The imperial court, re-established on the principle of equality between the two religions, still met to dispense justice between the estates of the Empire. But from these high-sounding names all reality had fled. The rule over German men had passed for many a long day into the hands of the princes. It was for the princes to strive with one another in peace or war under the protection of foreign alliances; and by and by, half consciously, half unconsciously, to compete for the leadership of Germany by the intelligence and discipline which they were able to foster under their sway.

§ 7. Protestantism saved.

When the days of this competition arrived it was of inestimable advantage to Germany that, whatever else had been lost, Protestantism had been saved. Wherever Protestantism had firmly rooted itself there sprang up in course of time a mighty race of intellectual giants. Göthe and Schiller, Lessing and Kant, Stein and Humboldt, with thousands more of names which have made German intellect a household word in the whole civilized world, sprung from Protestant Germany. When Bavaria, scarcely more than two generations ago, awoke to the consciousness that she had not more than the merest rudiments of education to give to her children, she had to apply to the Protestant north for teachers.

§ 8. The worst over for Germany.

For Germany in 1648 the worst was over. Physically, at least she had no more to suffer. One page of her history was closed and another had not yet been opened. She lay for a time in the insensibility of exhaustion.

Section IV. —Continuance of the War between France and Spain

§ 1. Peace between Spain and the Dutch.

For France 1648 is hardly a date at all. She was rid of the war in Germany. But her war with Spain was not brought to an end. And if Spain would no longer have the support of the imperialists of Germany, France was at the same time deprived of the support of a far more vigorous ally. Spain at last lowered its haughty neck to accept conditions of peace on terms of equality from the Dutch republic. The eighty years' war of the Netherlands was brought to a conclusion simultaneously with the thirty years' war of Germany. Spain could now send reinforcements to Flanders by sea without fearing the overwhelming superiority of the Dutch marine, and could defend the southern frontier of the obedient provinces without having to provide against an attack in the rear.

§ 2. France and Spain.

In the long run, a duel between France and Spain could be of no doubtful issue. It was a contest between the old system of immobility and intolerance and the new system of intelligence and tolerance; between a government which despised industry and commerce, and a government which fostered them. But however excellent might be the aims which the French government kept in view, it was still in its nature an absolute government. No free discussion enlightened its judgment. No popular intervention kept in check its caprices. It was apt to strike roughly and ignorantly, to wound many feelings and to impose grievous burdens upon the poor and the weak whose lamentations never reached the height of the throne.

§ 3. The Fronde.

Suddenly, when Mazarin's government appeared most firmly rooted, there was an explosion which threatened to change the whole face of France. An outcry arose for placing restrictions upon rights of the crown, for establishing constitutional and individual liberties. The Fronde, as the party which uttered the cry was called, did its best to imitate the English Long Parliament whose deeds were then ringing through the world. But there were no elements in France upon which to establish constitutional government. The Parliament of Paris, which wished itself to be considered the chief organ of that government, was a close corporation of lawyers, who had bought or inherited judicial places; and of all governments, a government in the hands of a close corporation of lawyers is likely, in the long run, to be the most narrow-minded and unprogressive of all possible combinations; for it is the business of a lawyer to administer the law as it exists, not to modify it in accordance with the new facts which rise constantly to the surface of social and political life. Nor were the lawyers of the parliament fortunate in their supporters. The Paris mob, combined with a knot of intriguing courtiers, could form no firm basis for a healthy revolution. It was still worse when Condé, quarrelling on a personal question with Mazarin, raised the standard of aristocratic revolt, and threw himself into the arms of the Spanish invader. Mazarin and the young king represented the nation against aristocratic selfishness and intrigue; and when they obtained the services of Turenne, the issue was hardly doubtful. In 1652 Lewis XIV. entered Paris in triumph. In 1653 Condé, in conjunction with a Spanish army, invaded France, and pushed on hopefully for Paris. But Turenne was there with a handful of troops; and if Condé was the successor of Gustavus in the art of fighting battles, Turenne was Wallenstein's successor in the art of strategy. Condé could neither fight nor advance with effect. The siege and reduction of Rocroy was the only result of a campaign which had been commenced in the expectation of reducing France to submission.

§ 4. The war with Spain.

In 1654 Condé and the Spaniards laid siege to Arras, whilst the French were besieging Stenay. Stenay was taken; Arras was relieved. In 1655 further progress was made by the French on the frontier of the Netherlands; but in 1656 they failed in the siege of Valenciennes.

§ 5. France, Cromwell, and Spain.

With the check thus inflicted, a new danger appeared above the horizon. In England there had arisen, under Cromwell, a new and powerful military state upon the ruins of the monarchy of the Stuarts. To Cromwell Spain addressed itself with the most tempting offers. The old English jealousy of France, and the political advantage of resisting its growing strength, were urged in favour of a Spanish alliance. Cromwell might renew the old glories of the Plantagenets, and might gather round him the forces of the Huguenots of the south. If Charles I. had failed at Rochelle, Cromwell might establish himself firmly at Bordeaux.

§ 6. Spain refuses Cromwell's terms.

For a moment Cromwell was shaken. Then he made two demands of the Spanish ambassador. He must have, he said freedom for Englishmen to trade in the Indies, and permission for Englishmen carrying on commercial intercourse with Spain to profess their religion openly without interference. "To give you this," was the Spaniard's cool reply, "would be to give you my master's two eyes."

§ 7. Alliance between France and England.

To beat down religious exclusiveness and commercial exclusiveness was the work to which Cromwell girded himself. An alliance with France was quickly made. The arrogant intolerance of Spain was to perish through its refusal to admit the new principle of toleration. The politic tolerance of France was to rise to still higher fortunes by the admission of the principle on which all its successes had been based since Richelieu's accession to power. In 1657, six thousand of Cromwell's Ironsides landed to take part in continental warfare. The union of Turenne's strategy with the valour and discipline which had broken down opposition at Naseby and Worcester was irresistible. That autumn the small Flemish port of Mardyke surrendered. In 1658 Dunkirk was taken, and given over, according to compact, to the English auxiliaries. But France, too, reaped an ample harvest. Gravelines, Oudenarde, Ypres saw the white flag of France flying from their ramparts.

§ 8. The Treaty of the Pyrenees.

Spain was reduced to seek for peace. In 1660 the Treaty of the Pyrenees, a supplement as it were to the Treaty of Westphalia, put an end to the long war. The advantages of the peace were all on the side of France. Roussillon and Artois, with Thionville, Landrecies, and Avesnes, were incorporated with France. Another condition was pregnant with future evil. Lewis XIV. gave his hand to the sister of Philip IV. of Spain, the next heiress to the Spanish monarchy after the sickly infant who became afterwards the imbecile and childish Charles II. At her marriage she abandoned all right to the great inheritance; but even at the time there were not wanting Frenchmen of authority to point to circumstances which rendered the renunciation null and void.

§ 9. The greatness of France based on its tolerance.

Richelieu's power had been based upon tolerance at home and moderation abroad. Was it likely that his successors would always imitate his example? What guarantee could be given that the French monarchy would not turn its back upon the principles from which its strength had been derived? In a land of free discussion, every gain is a permanent one. When Protestantism, or toleration, or freedom of the press, or freedom of trade had been once accepted in England, they were never abandoned; they became articles of popular belief, on which no hesitation, except by scattered individuals, was possible. Multitudes who would find it difficult to give a good reason why they thought one thing to be true and another untrue, had yet a hazy confidence in the result of the battle of reason which had taken place, much in the same way as there are millions of people in the world who believe implicitly that the earth goes round the sun, without being able to give a reason for their belief.

§ 10. But this depended on the will of the king.

In France it was hard for anything of the kind to take place. Tolerance was admitted there by the mere will of the government in the seventeenth century, just as free trade was admitted by the mere will of the government in the nineteenth century. The hand that gave could also take away; and it depended on the young king to decide whether he would walk in the steps of the great minister who had cleared the way before him, or whether he would wander into devious paths of his own seeking.