Gustavus Adolphus had left Sweden under the impulse of love for those glorious enterprises which make great generals, but still more of a desire to maintain the Protestant cause, which he regarded as that of God.  He had assembled the estates of Sweden in the castle of Stockholm, presenting to them his daughter Christina, four years old, whom he confided to their faithful care.  “I have hopes,” he said to them, “of ending by bringing triumph to the cause of the oppressed; but, as the pitcher that goes often to the well gets broken, so I fear it may be my fate.  I who have exposed my life amidst so many dangers, who have so often spilt my blood for the country, without, thanks to God, having been wounded to death, must in the end make a sacrifice of myself; for that reason I bid you farewell, hoping to see you again in a better world.”  He continued advancing into Germany.  “This snow king will go on melting as he comes south,” said the emperor, Ferdinand, on hearing that Gustavus Adolphus had disembarked; but Mecklenburg was already in his hands, and the Elector of Brandenburg had just declared in his favor:  he everywhere made proclamation, “that the inhabitants were to come forward and join him to take the part of their princes, whom he was coming to replace in possession.”  He was investing all parts of Austria, whose hereditary dominions he had not yet attacked; it was in the name of the empire that he fought against the emperor.

The diet was terminating at Ratisbonne, and it had just struck a fatal blow at the imperial cause.  The electors, Catholic and Protestant, jealous of the power as well as of the glory of the celebrated Wallenstein, creator and commander-in-chief of the emperor’s army, who had made him Duke of Friedland, and endowed him with the duchies of Mecklenburg, had obliged Ferdinand II. to withdraw from him the command of the forces.  At this price he had hoped to obtain their votes to designate his son King of the Romans; the first step towards hereditary empire had failed, thanks to the ability of Father Joseph.  “This poor Capuchin has disarmed me with his chaplet,” said the emperor, “and for all that his cowl is so narrow he has managed to get six electoral hats into it.”  The treaty he had concluded, disavowed by France, did not for an instant hinder the progress of the King of Sweden; and the cardinal lost no time in letting him know that “the king’s intention was in no wise to abandon him, but to assist him more than ever, insomuch as he deemed it absolutely necessary in order to thwart the designs of those who had no end in view but their own augmentation, to the prejudice of all the other princes of Europe.”  On the 25th of January, 1631, at Bernwald, the treaty of alliance between France and Sweden was finally signed.  Baron Charnace had inserted in the draft of the treaty the term protection as between France and Gustavus Adolphus.  “Our master asks for no protection but that of Heaven, said the Swedish plenipotentiaries; “after God, his Majesty holds himself indebted only to his sword and his wisdom for any advantages he may gain.”  Charnace did not insist; and the victories of Gustavus Adolphus were an answer to any difficulties.