Would he obey?  That was next to be seen.  The mighty chief was in a position to defy princes and emperor if he chose.  The plundering bands who followed him were his own, not the emperor’s soldiers; they knew but one master and were ready to obey his slightest word; had he given the order to advance upon Vienna and drive the emperor himself from his throne, there is no question but that they would have obeyed.  As may be imagined, then, the response of Wallenstein was awaited in fear and anxiety.  Should ambition counsel him to revolution, the very foundations of the empire might be shaken.  What, then, was the delight of princes and people when word came that he had accepted the emperor’s command without a word, and at once ordered the disbanding of his troops.

The stars were perhaps responsible for this.  Astrology was his passion, and the planetary conjunctions seemed then to be in favor of submission.  The man was superstitious, with all his clear-sighted ability, and permitted himself to be governed by influences which have long since lost their force upon men’s minds.

“I do not complain against or reproach the emperor,” he said to the imperial deputies; “the stars have already indicated to me that the spirit of the Elector of Bavaria holds sway in the imperial councils.  But his majesty, in dismissing his troops, is rejecting the most precious jewel of his crown.”

The event which we have described took place in September, 1630.  Wallenstein, having paid off and dispersed his great army to the four winds, retired to his duchy of Friedland, and took up his residence at Gitschen, which had been much enlarged and beautified by his orders.  Here he quietly waited and observed the progress of events.

He had much of interest to observe.  The effort of Ferdinand and his advisers to drive Protestantism out of Germany had produced an effect which none of them anticipated.  The war, which had seemed at an end, was quickly afoot again, with a new leader of the Protestant cause, new armies, and new fortunes.  Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, had come to the rescue of his threatened fellow-believers, and before the army of Wallenstein had been dissolved the work of the peace-makers was set aside, and the horrors of war returned.

The dismissed general had now left Gitschen for Bohemia, where he dwelt upon his estates in a style of regal luxury, and in apparent disregard of the doings of emperors and kings.  His palace in Prague was royal in its adornments, and while his enemies were congratulating themselves on having forced him into retirement, he had Italian artists at work painting on the walls of this palace his figure in the character of a conqueror, his triumphal car drawn by four milk-white steeds, while a star shone above his laurel-crowned head.  Sixty pages, of noble birth, richly attired in blue and gold velvet, waited upon him, while some of his officers and chamberlains had served the emperor in the same rank.  In his magnificent stables were three hundred horses of choice breeds, while the daily gathering of distinguished men in his halls was not surpassed by the assemblies of the emperor himself.