Wallenstein was then at the head of one hundred thousand men.  Would he obey the order?  Would he retire to private life?  Ambitious and unscrupulous as he was, he knew that no one, however powerful, could resist an authority universally conceded to be supreme and legitimate.  It was like the recall of a proconsul by the Roman Emperor and Senate:  he could resist for a time, but resistance meant ultimate ruin.  He also knew that he would be recalled, for he was necessary to the Emperor.  He anticipated the successes of Gustavus.  He was not prepared to be a traitor.  He would wait his time.

So he resigned his command without a moment’s hesitation, and with apparent cheerfulness.  He even loaded the messenger with costly gifts.  He appeared happy to be relieved from labor and responsibility, and retired at once to his vast Bohemian estates to pursue his favorite studies in the science of the stars, to enshroud himself in mystery and gloom, and dazzle his countrymen by the splendor of his life.  “His table was never furnished with less than one hundred covers; none but a noble of ancient family was intrusted with the office of superintending his household; an armed guard of fifty men waited in his antechamber; the ramparts of his castle were lined with sentinels; six barons and as many knights constantly attended on his person; sixty pages were trained and supported in his palace, which was decorated with all the wonders of art, and almost realized the fictions of Eastern luxury.”  In this splendid retirement Wallenstein brooded on his wrongs, and waited for the future.

The dismissal of this able general was a great mistake on the part of the Emperor.  There were left no generals capable of opposing Gustavus.  The supreme command had devolved on Tilly, able but bigoted, and best known for his remorseless cruelty when Magdeburg was taken by assault,—­the direst tragedy of the war.  This city was one of the first to welcome the invasion of the King of Sweden, and also to adopt the Protestant religion.  It was the most prosperous city in northern Germany; one of the richest and most populous.  Against this mercantile fortress Tilly directed all his energies, for he detested the spirit of its people.  It was closely invested by the imperial troops, and fell before Gustavus could advance to relieve it.  It was neglected by the electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, who were timid and pusillanimous, and it was lulled into false security by its strong position and defences.  Not sufficient preparation for defence had been made by the citizens, who trusted to its strong walls, and knew that Gustavus was advancing to relieve it.  But unexpectedly it was assaulted in the most daring and desperate manner, and all was lost.  On a Sabbath morning, the sudden toll of alarm bells, the roar of artillery, the roll of drums beating to quarter, and the piercing cries of women and children, mingled with the shouts and execrations of brutal and victorious soldiers,