In this position they awaited the eventful dawn of morning, to begin a contest which long delay, rather than the probability of decisive consequences, and the picked body, rather than the number of the combatants, was to render so terrible and remarkable.  The strained expectation of Europe, so disappointed before Nuremberg, was now to be gratified on the plains of Luetzen.  During the whole course of the war, two such generals, so equally matched in renown and ability, had not before been pitted against each other.  Never, as yet, had daring been cooled by so awful a hazard, or hope animated by so glorious a prize.  Europe was next day to learn who was her greatest general—­tomorrow the leader, who had hitherto been invincible, must acknowledge a victor.  This morning was to place it beyond a doubt whether the victories of Gustavus at Leipzic and on the Lech were owing to his own military genius, or to the incompetency of his opponent; whether the services of Wallenstein were to vindicate the Emperor’s choice and justify the high price at which they had been purchased.  The victory was as yet doubtful, but certain were the labor and the bloodshed by which it must be earned.  Every private in both armies felt a jealous share in their leader’s reputation, and under every corslet beat the same emotions that inflamed the bosoms of the generals.  Each army knew the enemy to which it was to be opposed:  and the anxiety which each in vain attempted to repress was a convincing proof of their opponent’s strength.

At last the fateful morning dawned; but an impenetrable fog, which spread over the plain, delayed the attack till noon.  Kneeling in front of his lines, the king offered up his devotions; and the whole army, at the same moment dropping on their knees, burst into a moving hymn, accompanied by the military music.  The king then mounted his horse, and clad only in a leathern doublet and surtout (for a wound he had formerly received prevented his wearing armor), rode along the ranks to animate the courage of his troops with a joyful confidence, which, however, the foreboding presentiment of his own bosom contradicted.  “God with us!” was the war-cry of the Swedes; “Jesus Maria!” that of the Imperialists.  About eleven the fog began to disperse, and the enemy became visible.  At the same moment Luetzen was seen in flames, having been set on fire by command of the duke to prevent his being outflanked on that side.  The charge was now sounded; the cavalry rushed upon the enemy, and the infantry advanced against the trenches.

Received by a tremendous fire of musketry and heavy artillery, these intrepid battalions maintained the attack with undaunted courage, till the enemy’s musketeers abandoned their posts, the trenches were passed, the battery carried and turned against the enemy.  They pressed forward with irresistible impetuosity; the first of the five imperial brigades was immediately routed, the second soon after, and the third put to flight.  But here the genius