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Soldiers of Fortune
Sir John Hepburn and Colonel Robert Munro

AMONG the Scottish officers who came to the front in the Thirty Years' War, few attained to greater distinction than Sir John Hepburn, who was long in command of the Brigade, and his staunch friend, Colonel Robert Munro. They were brothers-in-arms, invariably counting on mutual support with absolute confidence. Sir John never gave his reminiscences to the world, but he is among the most con-spicuous figures in all the histories of the war—Schiller excepted, who says little of the foreign auxiliaries—and notably in the prolix and metaphysical memoirs of his old comrade Munro. So in following the fortunes of the one, we incidentally sketch the career of the other. Both were characteristic representatives of the best of their countrymen, although of very different temperaments and actuated by different motives. Hepburn, like Bayard, was the soul of chivalry; his aspirations for military glory induced him to volunteer for each desperate piece of service. He was sensitive to touchiness on the point of honour, and on a fancied affront from the leader he had idolised and faithfully followed, he rejected the King's condescending advances, resigned his commission, and sheathing the sword which had served Gustavus so well, declared he would never draw it again for Sweden. When we remember that Gustavus with starving troops was then playing his last stake against the leaguer of Wallenstein, we may conceive how hotly Hepburn's anger must have burned.

Hepburn was a Catholic: it was said that the quarrel began or was envenomed by some slights cast by the Protestant champion on the Catholic creed. Munro was a Presbyterian, and rather a dour Presbyterian at that; he dwells on the privileges that Gustavus forced on his troops by commissioning chaplains to every regiment and insisting on regular preaching and prayers. Munro, writing of his campaigns in old age, is always preaching and moralising himself, but he seems really to have been a deeply religious man. He says as much for his Scottish soldiers, though that is more than we can easily believe. Talking of his regiment when ordered into action, he observes, "Never men went on service with more cheerful countenances, going as it were to welcome death, knowing it to be the passage into life." Hepburn, as I have said, was a modern knight of chivalry. Munro was a steady-going soldier, unflinching in face of the most formidable odds, and resigned to daring anything in the way of duty. He had initiative too and readiness of resource, as he showed on various occasions. His Highland fire was tempered by Lowland phlegm, and he kept himself cool and thoughtful in the worst emergencies. But he never ran his head idly against stone walls, and his ambitions were limited to regular professional advancement. The closely-printed, black-letter folio in which he.has recorded his "Expeditions and Observations" is become very scarce; it was published in Red Crosse Street, London, in 1637, and the copy preserved in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, was probably that which was carefully studied by Scott in getting up his materials for the "Legend of Montrose," and evolving the immortal personality of Dalgetty. Annota-tions on the margin have a suspicious resemblance to the handwriting of the novelist, though we are slow to suspect that epicurean bibliophile of tampering with the virgin pages of a borrowed book. Be that as it may, though Munro is intolerably prolix and perversely confused; though he drags in a Butler-like range of pedantic erudition by the head and shoulders ; though he moralises in season and out of season ; though his chronology defies exegetical analysis, and he makes wild work of German orthography and topography ; nevertheless the volume is a veritable treasury of graphic information as to soldiering experiences in that interminable war. It is evident that Harte has drawn on it freely for his "Life of Gustavus Adolphus," especially in regard to strategy and tactics, and the innovations and improvements in the science of war which the King introduced to the confounding of his enemies. Munro merely relates; he does not comment or criticise ; he had no theories of his own, though he held strong opinions. But he tells, or we read between his lines, how Gustavus had cast the traditions of the past behind him, thinking out ideas for himself, with the inventive genius of a Napoleon. We see him anticipating the practice of the great Frederick in the handling of his troops and the management of his artillery, using spade and pick on all possible occasions with a skill and persistency which has never been surpassed, and only approached when the Federals in the American Civil War had been taught caution by misfortune. Thanks to the constitutions of his Swedes, Scots, and Finlanders, indifferent to cold and toughened to famine, in a succession of surprises he taught the Imperialists and the tacticians of the Catholic League that there need be no winter in war. Nevertheless, there was no neglect of precaution or preparation which the most careful forethought could suggest. He expected his soldiers to starve on occasion, but he indulged them in almost a superfluity of clothing, when the enemy were forced from their winter quarters, ragged and shoeless.

Munro made the regiment his home, absorbed in the routine of his profession. Battles and marches, sieges and infalls, were indelibly impressed on a most retentive memory; for we cannot suppose that, if he ever kept any rough diaries, they survived the chances of war and the old campaigner's many misadventures. He is not a picturesque writer, but in his pages, or even reading between the lines, we see pictures, as realistic or suggestive as those in Schiller, of the horrors of the war that devastated Germany.

Munro had what was rare in those days, the unsoldierly virtue of sobriety. The cellars of the Rhine, the Main, and the Danube must have been answerable for many a muddled enterprise, for many a deadly ambush or surprise. With the Imperialists, Wallenstein's lavish hospitalities set an evil example, which his generals, less temperate than himself, were only too ready to follow. In that respect Munro had the sympathy of his Swedish Majesty, who always kept a tight rein on his troops, but although personally abstemious, had sometimes to sacrifice himself from political motives. At Halle the King was to entertain the Saxon Elector, who notoriously carried conviviality to excess. Munro had walked into the banqueting-room where the supper was laid out, when the King took him ruefully by the shoulder and whispered, "Munro, you could be master of the bottles and glasses to-night, in the absence of old Sir Patrick Ruthven; but you want the strength of head to relieve me on such an occasion." For in that Thirty Years' War, in the words of Scott, a brave and successful soldier was a companion for princes. Princes compounded for arrears of pay by treating colonels and captains with flattering familiarity. Munro, long before he had made a name, had dined with Christian of Denmark in his "gorgeous and pleasant palace"; and he often sat at the board of Gustavus, when the King had learned to value him as one of his most reliable officers.

He had seen much rough service with the Danes before his regiment in 1630 exchanged, with the assent of Christian, into the Swedish service. Immediately thereafter he had an opportunity of showing his resolution and resource in not the least notable episode of the war. He had orders from Oxenstiern to embark his men at Pilau, on the Bay of Courland, for Wolgast on the Pomeranian coast. He shipped them on the Lillynichol and the Hound, while a small "skoote" or boat was freighted with the horses and baggage. The favouring breezes blew up into a storm, and they ran for shelter into the Borneholme roads. There the Lillynichol, which carried Munro and his fortunes, was parted from her consorts. Though she had sprung a leak he put to sea again with his Highlanders, pumping by relays of forty-eight, but as the water still gained on them he headed for Dantzic. The storm abated nothing of its violence, and they were rolling water-logged on a lee shore, embayed among reefs and shoals. Then there is a thrilling and detailed story of the shipwreck, which might have suggested materials to Falconer or Byron. They were cast ashore on the isle of Rugen, clinging through next forenoon to the wreck, with the boiling surf making a clean breach over them. All their boats had broken loose or been swamped. Munro patiently attended the Lord's mercy with prayers, till at one of the clock he turned manfully to help himself. He landed his men on rafts or spars; he was the last to leave the shattered ship, and he managed besides to save some of the arms.

But never were castaways in worse case, for all the baggage was on the missing skoote, and as the ammunition had been lost, the matchlocks were useless. He learned from friendly boors that the island was occupied in force by the Imperialists, and that he was eighty miles from the nearest Swedish outposts. Not unnaturally he was "in a pitiful feare," and naturally he might have made up his mind to unconditional surrender; for his men were exhausted and dispirited, and in no condition for fighting. Surrender never seems to have suggested itself. He had learned from the boors that the neighbouring Castle of Rugenwald was still held by the captain for the Duke of Pomerania, though the town under its shadow was in possession of the enemy. Munro hid his men among the cliffs till nightfall, and then despatched a messenger to the captain to tell him he was at hand with 300 shipwrecked Highlanders, and to undertake, if he were furnished with powder and ball, to clear Rugenwald of the Imperialists and hold it for the Duke and the King. The captain was delighted, but prudently gave himself leave of absence, while he sent a man in his confidence to conduct the Scots into the castle by a secret passage. There they armed themselves: thence they descended on the town, and after some desperate fighting mastered the garrison.

The surprise was daring enough, but a more serious question was how to maintain himself. A mounted messenger sent to Stettin had brought back peremptory orders from the King to hold the place and the adjacent passes. The orders had been anticipated by the Scot, who had not wasted an hour. He had blown up the bridge which spanned the river ; he had armed some of the boors and set them to watch the passage, and many of the country people, with his own Highlanders, were busily engaged in throwing up entrenchments and deepening the moat. Scouting and foraging parties were sent out in all directions, for though the King had strictly enjoined treating the country folk with every consideration, that did not exclude the inevitable levying of contributions. Munro declares he had kindly welcome from the inhabitants, and found noble entertainment everywhere with fish and fowl, fruit and venison. For nine weeks he made good his position against incessant alarms, till Hepburn by forced marches brought him welcome relief.

Hepburn took over the command as senior officer, and Munro was ordered to join the forces beleaguering Colberg under General Kimphausen. Colberg, where the Imperialists had stored much booty, and which was deemed almost impregnable, was a place worth winning or saving, and they were known to be advancing in force to the relief. The line of approach was by a pass, guarded by the town and castle of Schelbeane, and Hepburn with a troop of horse was sent to reconnoitre it. His report was that it ought to be occupied immediately, and Kimphausen, who is said to have had no love for the Scots, and was never sorry to send them on desperate service, ordered Munro to march thither forthwith. In case "the enemy should pursue him "—which was sure enough—he was to fight to the last man. Munro came, saw, and did not like the situation. He had much the same opinion of it as Dalgetty of Ardenvohr, for with its ruined works lie deemed it a scurvy hole for any honest cavalier to maintain his credit by. "I was evil sped, unless the Lord extraordinarily would show mercy." However, he set to work to make the best of things; laboured indefatigably night and day, for three days, and when a trumpeter summoned him to treat, from an army drawn up for battle, returned the heroic answer, that he had no orders to that effect, but ample provision of powder and ball at their service. Having no strength to hold the town, after some desperate fighting he withdrew into the castle. Summoned a second time, as the last chance of having quarter, he gave a similar reply. He had fired the town to cover his retreat, and withdrawn among blazing houses and falling roofs. When the flames died down, the enemy followed and set up their batteries within forty paces of his castle walls. He had to fear the worst, for the besiegers outnumbered him by sixteen to one, and they were directed by Montecuculli, perhaps the ablest of the Imperial generals of the second rank. But Montecuculli, if bold, was also wary, and in all such cases both besiegers and besieged had to calculate the chances of impending relief. Horne was known to have joined Kimphausen, and it was certain that the important outpost of Schelbeane would not be sacrificed without a battle. Montecuculli abruptly broke up his camp, retiring under cover of mist and darkness.

I am not rewriting the Memoirs of Munro, but selecting incidents that illustrate the times and the men who figured in them. His first interview with the immortal Gustavus was characteristic of both. A company in Munro's regiment had fallen vacant, and the King, without consulting him, appointed a Captain Dumaine. Munro declares that he did not object to the man but to breach of privilege. "By his Majesty's capitulation he had the freedom to place the officers of his regiment." When he waited on the King he had the wit to take his friend Hepburn with him, who was a persona grata. Munro sturdily stuck to his point, saying that Dumaine was a foreigner who lacked the words of command. Gustavus retorted that he would soon learn them ; but demanded the name of Munro's nominee. The answer was that it was a cavalier who deserved well of his Majesty, named David Munro. His Majesty, jumping at conclusions, exclaimed that Munro, to appoint a cousin, would actually disobey his orders. Then Hepburn interposed, and the matter was arranged by the Major consenting on this occasion to waive his rights. The incident shows how Gustavus, with all the imperious decision that never bent in matters of supreme importance, knew how to condescend and even to honour valued officers when only points of punctilio were involved.

In the depth of that bitter winter, and apropos to the intaking of the town and fortress of Dameine, which was most valiantly defended, Munro has some interesting remarks on his Majesty's methods and idiosyncrasy.

"He did observe his Majesty's dexterity in command, discharging the duties of several officers;" in fact, he was greatly addicted to overdoing himself. When his mind was made up there was no moving him. "Neither did he like it well if an officer was not so capable to understand his directions as he was ready in giving them." "Such a general would I gladly serve, but such a general I shall hardly see, whose custom was to be the first and last in danger himself." And, like all generals of genius, he regulated his strategy by the temperaments of his opponents. "He knew the devices and engines of his enemies, their councils, their armies, their art, their discipline, . . . and he understood well that an armie being brittle like glasse, that sometimes a vaine and idle brute was enough to ruine them." The one point in which the King's personal conduct conflicted with his commands was his carelessness in exposing himself to dangers. He set an evil example to officers as reckless of life as himself. He always thrust himself forward into the hottest of the fire, led the fiercest of the charges when the fortunes of battle were in suspense, and ultimately paid for his temerity by his glorious death. At Lutzen he only wore a buff coat which could not turn a musket ball, though then he is said to have had the sufficient excuse of a half-healed wound. Rittmaster Dalgetty quotes his famous exclamation, "Now shall I know if my officers love me by their putting on their armour; since if my officers are slain, who shall lead my soldiers unto victory?" And the Rittmaster tells how the regiment of Finnish Cuirassiers was reprimanded and lost their kettledrums, because once they had taken permission to march unarmed, leaving their corselets on the baggage waggons. Munro relates an incident at the leaguer of Dameine, significant at once of the hero's foolhardiness, and of the good humour with which he heard the remonstrances of his humbler brothers-in-arms. He had ventured far forward on a frozen marsh, spying into the enemy's works with a prospect glass. The ice gave way, the King Was immersed to his middle, but fortunately it was near Munro's picket. As it happened, the guard there was commanded by that favourite of the King who had been forced on the regiment against the Major's wishes. Captain Dumaine rushed to the rescue. The King "wagged to him to retire, lest the enemy might take notice of them," but it was too late. Under a salvo from a thousand matchlock barrels the King extricated himself, threaded the hail of bullets by a miracle, and sat down to dry himself by the guardroom fire. The Captain, being a bold-spoken gentleman and well bred, began very familiarly to find fault with his Majesty for his forwardness in hazarding his person in such unnecessary danger, and the King, having patiently heard him out, thanked him for his good counsel, and could not but confess his fault. Defiant throughout, he went straight to dinner in a cold tent, called for meat, dined grossly, took a great draught of wine, and only then consenting to change his clothes, turned out again to face a sortie from the enemy.

Had any of his officers on duty shown such misplaced zeal, he would infallibly have been placed under arrest. Probably displeased with himself, he immediately came down upon an unlucky Dutch captain whom he caught going to the trenches in a cloak. He had him recalled, sent another in his place—"which was a disgrace to the captain"—and reproved him openly, telling him, if he had intention to have fought well, he would have felt no cold, and consequently the carrying of the cloak was needless.

Happily for himself, Munro's battalion was not in garrison at New Brandenburg, where 600 of the Highlanders were mercilessly slaughtered, and where some of his most valued comrades perished. Their leader, Lindesay, fell in the breach, handling his pike like a common soldier. For nine days behind the shattered works they had made desperate resistance against great odds. Tilly had pushed the siege with characteristic determination, and Kimphausen had defended the place with indomitable courage, for relief was daily feared or expected. The news of the catastrophe was brought to the Swedish camp by two Scottish officers, who swam the ditch in their corselets and saved themselves in the darkness. Hot as was the Highland blood, the Highlanders as a rule were generous in victory, but now there was a universal cry for vengeance, and soon after the massacre of New Brandenburg was fearfully revenged at Frankfort-on-the-Oder.

But writing afterwards in cold blood, Munro has one of his "observations" to make on the affair, and considering the ordinary precedents of that ruthless war, it would seem the Scots excited themselves unnecessarily. They knew the risks and they took the chances. Tilly had twice offered terms, which were peremptorily refused. The place, as it proved, was practically untenable, and the penalty of defending an untenable position was death. It was all a question of the arrival of timely succour, and Munro discusses the delicate dilemma to which Kimphausen found himself reduced. He pronounces him not void of blame for refusing a treaty in due time, seeing he had no certainty of release; and being left to his own discretion by his Majesty, he should have embraced the opportunity of time which, once past, is not to be recovered. It is better, he adds, to be in safety through preventing than basely to suffer under our enemies, occasion being past. As to which it can only be said, that had Munro's practice been conformable to these sage precepts, he would never have distinguished himself by that defence of Rugenwald which gave him a long lift up the ladder of promotion.

The discussion might have been spared. Though Munro did not know it, the lives of the valiant garrison might have been saved had not a despatch miscarried. All had depended on precarious communication in an unsettled country. The first orders to Kimphausen had been to hold out : they were countermanded when pressing strategical considerations decided Gustavus to march upon Frankforton-the-Oder. The news of the fall and the slaughter reached the army when on the march, and the Scottish brigade consoled itself with the hopes of a speedy and deadly revenge. Yet the assault on Frankfort-on-the-Oder in the circumstances was one of the most daring of Gustavus' audacious ventures. Frankfort was supposed to be as strong as it was rich; it was garrisoned by 9000 veterans under three such distinguished leaders as Schomberg, Tiefenbach, and Montecuculli; and the terrible septuagenarian Tilly lay at no great distance, with more than twice that number of men, ready to hasten to the relief. The little army of Gustavus barely outnumbered the garrison, but they were all picked men and admirably disciplined. Munro blames the Imperialist generals for not marching boldly out to meet the Swedes in a fair field, laying down the sage doctrine, that "it's never good to be always defending"; but though the defence was stub-born as the attack was resolute, events seem to show that their decision was wise. Munro's story of the in-take is very typical of the innumerable storms of fortified places during the war that brought wreck and ruin to so many flourishing towns. It illustrates, too, the pomp and the pleasantries as well as the horrors and terrors of the war.

The Swedish King threw out his light horsemen to scout the country towards Tilly's leaguer. Then "himself discharging the duty of a General-Major (as became him well), he besought the aid of Sir John Hepburn to put the army in order of battle." It advanced with drums beating, trumpets sounding, and colours displayed, "till coming near the town and seeing no show of opposition, knowing of the nearness of our enemies, it was resolved to press on of a sudden to take the place." Nevertheless, unlike Henri Quatre at Cahors, the more cautious Gustavus had not recourse to immediate storm. In consultation with Hepburn he promptly distributed his brigades so as to make a close investment. Then there was some warm work in the way of reconnoitring. The King himself, with his prospect glass, was in the front, as was his custom. The Imperialists opened fire; Colonel Teufel of the staff was shot in the arm, his Majesty making great mourn for him, and Munro's lieutenant was shot in the leg. The enemy, hanging out a goose in derision, made a sally in force, but after some sharp skirmishing were driven back into the town.

Next day was Palm Sunday, when his Majesty with the whole army served God in their best apparel ; the King following up the sermon with a stirring appeal to his soldiers, imploring them to take these ill days in patience, in the hope of happier times, when they should drink wine instead of water. Indeed, after much blood-letting they were immediately to have wine enough and to spare. For the preaching of the King was promptly followed up. As it was drawing towards dusk he called a captain of Hepburn's regiment, told him to don a light corselet, to call for a sergeant and a dozen volunteers, to wade the graff, to climb the fortification, and to find out if men could be conveniently lodged between the mud wall of the town and the outer ramparts of stone. Such daring attempts were successfully made, although by single men, at San Sebastian, and at Bhurtpore when besieged by Lord Combermere, and in this case Captain Gunter came back in safety with his little party to report favourably. The storm was decided on; the storming columns formed up, and all the cannon, great and small, were charged—the King had brought a long train of artillery with him—that the clouds of smoke from the general discharge might mask the rush in the impending assault. So it came off, and Munro in the turmoil can only speak for what he did and saw himself. To the roar of the guns his column sprang forward ; and under veil of the smoke they waded the ditch, up to the waists in mud and water, and climbed the scarp to find themselves confronted by palisades, well fastened and set fast in the wall. Those obstacles were nothing so formidable as the chevaux-de-frise and spiked planking which Phillipin prepared for our stormers at Badajoz, nor to the diabolical Russian arrangements for the reception of the Japanese at Port Arthur. But the defenders, who fought desperately afterwards, seem to have been taken by surprise and panic-stricken, for Munro remarks that, had they not retreated in great fear, he could not have entered but with great hazard.

They retreated, but rallied again to make a stand at a sally-port in the inner wall, "whence with cannon and musketry they did cruel and pitiful execution on our musketeers and pikemen." Munro does not mention Dalgetty, but it was then that he, with " stout Hepburn, valiant Lumsdale, and courageous Munro," made entry at point of pike. Hepburn was shot above the knee in the leg of which he was lame before. "Who said to me, Bully Munro, I am shot, at which I was wondrous sorry." That reminds us of Wellington riding with Lord Anglesea. His major, a resolute cavalier, was shot dead, and it was then that Lumsdale and Munro, seizing pikes respectively, forced the narrow passage, shoulder to shoulder. They made a stand within till their pikemen were drawn up and "starched" with muskets; then there was another rush on the enemy, who fell back in disorder. Munro and Lumsdale charged up one street; General Banner with a fresh body of musketeers pressed the pursuit up another. The town on the hither side of the river was taken, "the enemy being well beaten"; the cries for quarter were answered by yells of "Remember New Brandenburg," and small mercy was shown, except to some officers who were worth saving and held to ransom. It must be owned that the garrison deserved their fate; they were the brigand bands who under ruthless leaders had been savagely ravaging Brandenburg and Pomerania.

Munro says something on hearsay of what had been passing elsewhere. The blue and yellow brigades, being esteemed of all the army both resolute and courageous, were told off to enter "the Irish quarter." For the weakest part of the defences had been commended to the charge of the Irish Celts, under command of the chivalrous Walter Butler, a cadet of the house of Ormond. The blue and yellow brigades, brave as they were, had their work cut out for them. Numbers prevailed in the end, but the Irish, though weak, stood to it with pike and sword till most part fell fighting. Butler, with a shattered arm and his thigh transfixed, was a prisoner; and as for the rank and file, "those valiant Irishes," as Dalgetty says, "being all put to the sword, did nevertheless gain immortal praise and honour."

Munro's brigade, with all its discipline, piety, and morality, had no sooner cleared the streets, heaping them with corpses, than it broke loose from control. "The fury past, the whole street being full of coaches and rusty waggons richly furnished with all sorts of riches, as plate, jewels, gold, money, clothes, &c., whereof all men that were careless of their duties were too careful in making of booty, that I did never see officers less obeyed." The temptation was great, for as at Vittoria of the Peninsular War, Frankfort was a storehouse of all the plunder the Imperialists had been gathering in the course of their campaigning. And Gustavus, like Tilly at the sack of Magdeburg, did not enter the town till the "fury" was over. It would have been attempting the impossible to rein in his hot-blooded soldiers from slaughter, pillage, and debauch ; and indeed he is said to have cheered Hepburn's column to the storm by telling these Scots to remember New Brandenburg. But the Swedes and Scots only slaughtered men in arms, whereas Tilly's ruffians slew indiscriminately, tossing infants into the flames and sparing neither age nor sex.

Lansberg was the last Pomeranian fortress left to the Imperialists. Gustavus, with his habitual rapidity of action, lost no time. Home had already enveloped it with squadrons of cavalry, when the King marched from Frankfort with 3200 musketeers, 800 horse, and a battery of artillery under Tortensohn, his best artillerist. Hepburn was in immediate charge of the column, though still so weak that he could scarcely sit in his saddle. Munro was second in command. It was their duty to sec that the force was well supplied with entrenching tools, with sledgehammers, and ladders. It was a bold undertaking, for the defenders twice outnumbered the assailants, and they were all seasoned veterans. On the night of their arrival, Munro and his Highlanders lay down before a heavily armed sconce, protected by a deep graff of running water. Munro was ordered to go to work at once, entrenching himself, throwing up counter-batteries, and running forward approaches. He laboured indefatigably, and thought he had acquitted himself well when his Majesty turned up before break of day. " Finding the works not so far advanced as he did expect, he fell a chiding of me, and no excuse would mitigate his passion till he had first considered on the circumstances, and then he was sorry that he had offended me without reason. But his custom was that he was worse to be pleased in this kind than any other of his commands, being ever impatient."

The King himself had not wasted time. He had found a blacksmith in the hamlet where he slept who undertook to show a path over the western swamps and a secret passage into the town, if the deep ditch could be bridged. Floating bridges had already been constructed; they were flung across graff and morass, and Munro with 250 of his musketeers, and a colonel with as many dismounted dragoons, gingerly followed the lead of the blacksmith across planks that threatened submersion under their measured tread. The sconce was taken after some sharp fighting, and Hepburn coming limping up with the supports, they entrenched themselves against a possible outfall from the town. But the Imperialists lost heart and consequently honour. Strange as it may seem, they sent a drummer to Munro in his sconce to parley for quarter; the drummer was blinded and passed on to the King, who condescended to take the garrison over to mercy. But he was embarrassed by the very natural apprehension that they might make trouble when they saw to what a feeble force they had surrendered a fortress so formidable, for it had thrice baffled Gustavus before, and no pains had been subsequently spared in strengthening it. The garrison was not suffered to march out until he had been strongly reinforced from Frankfort. The blacksmith was made burgomaster of the captured town, and had a handsome gratuity in ducats into the bargain.

The storm of Frankfort was to be balanced by the sack of Magdeburg. Gustavus would gladly have saved that great and friendly city, but the princes of North-eastern Germany had been hanging back, and his communications must be made sure before advancing. After taking Lansberg and liberating Pomerania, he moved on Berlin to bring the vacillating Brandenburg Margrave, his own brother-in-law, to reason. The menace was enough, and then Munro and his Scots were withdrawn into winter quarters at Old Brandenburg. Munro liked the quarters well, though he thought it a dreary town, situated between sandy wastes and morasses. But the beer was good, and "they did try it merrily," till quarrels broke out between the Scots and the Swedes, when after a time they came to the sensible conclusion that their brawling had best be reserved for the common enemy. Munro liked his comforts when he could get them, and in one of his innumerable digressions he discusses the various vintages and breweries of Germany. For nine years, he says, the regiment had ever the luck to be in excellent quarters, where they did get much good wine and great quantity of good beer. Hamburg and Rostock were deserving of high commendation, but for his own part he gave the preference to the Calvinistic Seebester, as he once told the Chancellor Oxenstiern. "I said it pleased my taste well. He answered merrily, No wonder it tastes well to your palate, being the good beer of that ill religion.'" In the Major's opinion the worst of that profusion of strong liquors was, that the soldiers were ill to be commanded, and more amenable when reduced to fair water.

The arrival of the Marquis of Hamilton with 6000 men, raised chiefly in Scotland by an understanding with King Charles, did much to change the state of affairs. It brought the Landgrave of Hesse and the heroic Bernard of Saxe-Weimar to the Swedish standards, and it went far to confirm the wavering resolution of the more powerful Elector of Saxony. In summer Munro and his men had begun to weary of the fleshpots of Old Brandenburg, more especially as a virulent epidemic had broken out in the town, when the whole Swedish army concentrated to move westward to observe the movements of Tilly. The fall of Frankfort had led to the sack of Magdeburg. Too late to relieve Frankfort, Tilly had turned back to revenge himself on that great and flourishing city. Then Gustavus followed westward to fortify himself, after his habit, at Werben on the Elbe, an admirable strategical position. Strong in his entrenchments, he repulsed a night attack with no little loss to the assailants. Then Tilly, who had been invariably the victor in innumerable pitched battles, marched' back into Saxony to force the hand of the Elector, who was tampering with the Swedes. It was a fatal stroke of policy and strategy, and thenceforth fortune would seem to have deserted him. The superstitious Germans said he was haunted by the spirits of the helpless folk who had been mercilessly butchered at Magdeburg. The Elector, irritated by the cruelties inflicted on his country, threw himself into the arms of the Swedes, so Arnheim and his Saxons were aligned with them at the decisive battle of the Breitenfeld.

Leipzic on the Breitenfeld was a duel between the foremost champions of the conflicting creeds and policies. Tilly, as we see in his despatches, held Gustavus in the highest respect; and the King, as wary in counsel as he was bold in action, knew well the formidable antagonist he had to face. But when the treaty with Saxony was signed, he felt bound to fight and arrest the ruthless course of the enemy. Tilly, it is said, though in far superior force, in his admiration of the military genius of Gustavus, would have deferred the decisive moment. Yet probably the sympathies of the fiery old hero were with the impetuous Pappenheim and other lieutenants, who declared that with-drawing before inferior forces would be intolerable disgrace. Once committed to the chances of combat, Tilly threw himself into it, heart and soul. He and his rival were ever in the forefront of battle, heading the cavalry onsets regardless of their lives, and that recklessness is the only charge that has been alleged against their skilful leadership. Gustavus, it is true, was quietly attired in a suit of plain grey under his corselet, though a long green plume floated from his helmet. But Tilly was conspicuous as always, with the dwarfish figure bent over the saddlebow, with the long drawn face and the drooping whiskers, in the suit of green satin, much the worse for wear, and the high- peaked hat with the drooping red feather. Never, indeed, throughout the war had field been more fiercely contested.

The plain of Leipzic was ideal ground for skilful manceuvring—for a fair fight and no favour. The armies had bivouacked within a mile of each other, and the lines of the opposing watchfires clearly defined the positions. Munro, whose old fires burned up as he wrote, describes with unusual animation and lucidity all of which he was an eye-witness. "As the larke beganne to peep," they were standing to arms, to the blare of the trumpet and the roll of the drum. Having meditated in the night and resolved with their consciences, they began the morning with offering souls and bodies as living sacrifices, with confession of their sins and lifting up hearts to Heaven by public prayers and secret sighs and groans. Thus shrieved and assoilzied in Protestant fashion, they marched forward a little and halted. The King bestirred himself in the ordering of the battle ; the Swedish host to his right, the Saxons to the left. In the forefront of the Swedish centre were three regiments, two of them Scottish, one Dutch, but all three under Scottish colonels. Munro was in command of the musketeers of the right flank. Adopting his novel tactics, which proved disastrous to the Imperialists, Gustavus formed up his foot in open order, mingling them with squadrons of cavalry, so that the musket should support the pistol and sabre. It would seem more questionable that before each brigade were batteries of heavy guns, and of the lighter artillery, which was loaded and fired fast, to the great discomfiture of the enemy. Behind were three brigades of reserve under Hepburn, which afterwards did decisive service to the left, when the day had been well-nigh lost by the flight of the raw Saxon levies.

At "twelve of the clock" the battle was joined. The cannon began to roar, tearing great breaches through the advanced brigades, who, as Munro says, anticipating Beauregard's remark on Jackson, stood passive and firm as a wall for two hours and a half. Then out of the clouds of dust and smoke came furious charging of the Imperial reiters. Time after time they were met and forced back by the Swedish and Finnish horse, who with stolid northern phlegm never unloosed a pistol till the enemy had fired, after each discharge falling back behind the musketeers, who poured in their volleys at point blank. For a space the smoke and chalk clouds were so dense that nothing was to be distinguished. Then two great battalions of foot were seen on the left flank of the reserves, which most supposed to be Saxons. Munro was more clear-sighted. "I certified his Majesty they were enemies;" whereupon the King and Hepburn took the reserves to the left, to retrieve the doubtful fortunes of the day, and repulse the last desperate onset of the foe, recklessly led on by Tilly in person. Meanwhile Munro had led his wing of the musketeers against another body of the enemy who were standing firm by their batteries. He beat them from the cannon, which he captured, and consequently, as he says, remained master of the field, but the smoke-pall had come down thicker than ever, and he could see nothing of either friend or foe. So he caused a drummer to beat the "Scots' March" till it cleared, to collect surviving friends and scare away the scattering enemies. The battle being won, his Majesty did chiefly ascribe the glory to his Swedish horsemen and his Scottish foot. Indeed Munro seems to claim more than his fair share of it, for he says the victory and credit of the day was given to their brigade as being last engaged, and it had the royal thanks and promises of reward in public audience in presence of the whole army. Doubtless the thanks were paid down on the nail, but we hear nothing of the promises of reward being redeemed.

That night they encamped on the field of battle, at blazing fires made of abandoned ammunition-waggons and pikes "that were cast away for want of good fellows to use them." Among the living was much merry-making and rejoicing, though there was a melancholy absence of drink at the night-wake of their dead comrades, which must have come home to the hearts of the Highlanders, who always celebrated obsequies with a carouse.

Munro regrets that he missed by a day the storming of Marienburg, where his countrymen led the assault in what he describes as the most desperate service done in Dutchland during the whole continuance of the wars. After the Breitenfeldt, after investing Leipzic and occupying Halle, his Majesty had been "minded to pay a visit" to his inveterate priestly enemies, the Bishops of Bamberg and Wiirtzburg. He marched to Erfurt through the Thuringenwald, and there broke up his army into two divisions, appointing Wiirtzburg as the rallying-place. The troops marching through Franconia were commanded by Lieutenant-General Bauditzen, with Hepburn as Brigadier- General. Coming to Wiirtzburg, they summoned the town, which surrendered on favourable terms. But the soldiers had withdrawn to the great Castle of Marienburg, which, as Dugald Dalgetty would have said, "overcrowed it," and which Munro describes emphatically as "a strong strength." It was deemed so strong indeed that the Prince-Bishop of Franconia had lodged his treasure there with an easy mind; his wealthy subjects had followed his example, and in the wine-vaults hewn out of the living rock were stored the choicest vintages of the Steinberg. Nor was his confidence altogether misplaced, for Marienburg had been to Franconia what the impregnable Konigstein was to Saxony. Moreover, he had sure intelligence that Tilly and the Duke of Lorraine, with 50,000 men, were coming to the relief by forced marches.

The castle was connected with the town by the massive bridge of grey antiquity, which, like that over the Moldau at Prague, is embellished by the statues of saints and saintly prelates. The retiring garrison had broken down one of the arches, and the gap was commanded and raked by the fire of the castle batteries. "A single, long, bending plank had been thrown over the broken arch, so that it seemed a hazard or torment to any man to pass over." "There were valorous officers and soldiers who would rather adventure to goe before the mouth of the cannon " than to cross that hair-like bridge of AI Sirat. But time pressed and the King had recourse to the Scots brigade. Sir James Ramsay, surnamed the Black, and Sir John Hamilton were called upon, the King knowing that if they refused, no others would undertake the service. They were commanded, with their musketeers, to effect the passage and clear a way to the castle for the rest of the army. The Scottish colonels went as warily as bravely to work; with a few picked men they tumbled into some small boats—it much resembled Wellington's passage of the Douro—setting the musketeers to fire before they beached the boats. "Once happily landed and beginning to skirmish, their soldiers they left behinde, seeing their officers and comrades engaged, to helpe them they ranne over the planke so fast as they could runne, till at last they past all to make a strong head against the enemy." Ramsay was shot lame in the arm; Hamilton succecded to the command, pressing the garrison so hard at all points within their works that Gustavus passed most of his army over. Apparently the garrison was panic-stricken. Before dawn the place was rushed, for they had neither raised the drawbridges nor lowered the portcullis. Short shrift was given to the defenders: "Magdeburg quarter " was the answer to all appeals for mercy.

The King had thrown out detachments on all sides till there were barely io,000 men left at headquarters. At that time both Hepburn and Munro were in Wiirtzburg with the brigade. One evening Munro was seated com-fortably at supper, when a royal footman hurried upstairs to tell him his Majesty was waiting below. That evening a courier had come " bloody with spurring, fiery red with speed," to say that the Duke of Lorraine was at hand with five times the Swedish strength. The news was true, though the numbers were exaggerated. The King had come out at once to beat up Hepburn, but missing his quarters had stumbled on those of Munro. He ordered the Scot to get the brigade under arms at once, and to send Hepburn to meet him on the parade ground. Eight hundred musketeers mustered in the darkness and marched out on a blustering October night, neither Hepburn nor Munro having an idea of their destination. All they knew was that the King was riding alongside of them in gloomy abstraction, from which they augured that there was serious work before them. When he broke the silence it was to tell them that his purpose was to defend Ochsenfurt, the Franconian Oxford, by help of their handful of musketeers against Lorraine and his army. Eighty troopers were in advance, and towards the small hours the weary foot-soldiers were in position on the bridge or lying by their arms in Ochsenfurt market-place. At break of day a scouting party of the cavalry were driven back by a squadron of the Imperialists. A company of the musketeers sent off in support had to retire with the horse before overwhelming numbers. Then Munro led out a hundred more, and delivered the attack with "such a noise of drums" and so determined a spirit that the Imperialists believed he had the Swedish army at his back and beat a retreat in their turn. They had better information soon, and Hepburn, unsupported, was in extreme anxiety. All that man could do he did to defend the ruined walls and their approaches ; he threw down houses, he felled trees, and grubbed hedges ; he improvised loopholed stockades with firing platforms behind them. It was a case "where no cavalier could gain credit without overmuch hazard, yet such a master would be served." The enemy waited too long. On the third night there was such a noise of their trumpets and drums, as if heaven and earth were going together: no one doubted that a general storm was imminent: the gates were even closed against the horse- guards who had been beaten in against the walls; which shows how desperate the situation was deemed by such a cool veteran as Hepburn. Then he was delivered by some unexplained miracle from the very jaws of destruction. The host of the Imperialists was smitten by such a panic as scared the Assyrians from the siege of Samaria. When Hepburn looked out in the belated November dawn, they were vanishing in clouds of dust which veiled their retiring on Nuremberg.

Campaigning in those times was not only a game of hazard, but also a game of luck, which was perhaps not the least of its chief attractions. You might be ordered to run your head against almost impracticable stoneworks, or sent to overrun a rich country, relatively defenceless. After Marienburg and Ochsenfurt the Scotch brigade separated. Two hundred of them under Colonel Hanan, "a discreet cavalier of good command and conduct, also valorous," were sent down the Main well provided with field guns, to reduce all the castles as they went along.

None of those somewhat neglected fortresses gave much trouble, and they rejoined their comrades laden with booty. Munro's division was also fortunate, though he leaves us to infer the looting, and for once they were revelling in the fulness of plenty. In his grateful moralising he waxes eloquent: "This march being profitable as it was pleasant to the eye, we see that soldiers have not always so hard a life as the common opinion is; for sometimes as they have abundance, so they have a variety of pleasure, in marching softly, without feare or danger, through fertill soyles and pleasant countries, their marches being more like a king's progress than to wars; being in a fat land as this was, abounding in all things except peace : they had plenty of corn, fruite, wine, gold, silver, jewels, and of all sort of riches that could be thought of, on this river of the Maine." Had Frankfort set them at defiance—and for a time the issue was doubtful—he might have had still better reason for gratulation. But Frankfort, "made wise by the ruine of other cities," preferred good conditions of peace to the chances of storm and sack. All those wealthy free cities held troubled consultations when the royal Swede sent peremptory summons to surrender. Their sympathies were with him, with freedom and with Protestantism, but they consulted under terror of the Tillys and Wallensteins.

With Frankfort in his possession and his communications assured, the King could turn his attention to another of his inveterate Episcopal enemies. The strong places on the lower Rhine were in the Electorate of Mayence, and thither he directed his march. It was occupied by a corps of veteran Spaniards, under Don Phillipe de Sylvia, who held the fortresses on the river in force. As his troops were well sheltered, de Sylvia trusted something besides to the inclemency of a bitter winter. Summoned to retire or surrender, his answer was short ; his orders were to defend the Prince Bishop against the Swedes. As he fancied, he had seized all the river craft, but it was difficult to sweep all shipping off the long course of the Rhine. Gustavus himself had made a detour through the Bergstrasse, with the exiled King of Bohemia, the banished Elector Palatine in his train, and meditated a crossing above Sylvia's most formidable advanced post at Oppenheim. A few small boats were picked up by Count Brahe, who was in command of a mixed brigade of Scots and Swedes. He made a miraculous crossing in face of a watchful enemy, reminding one again of Wellington's passage of the Douro, and entrenching himself promptly in similar fashion, repulsed with heavy loss the onsets of the Spanish cavalry. The routed horsemen sought refuge at Oppenheim, an ancient town with walls and fosses and a massive castle dominating the Rhine. Strongly garrisoned and scientifically fortified, Oppenheim barred the march to Mayenne. The hardest nut to crack was a sconce on the right bank of the Rhine, covered by the castle fire, and the sconce has become historically famous. The Scots, as Munro remarks, went to the front as usual, when there was any desperate piece of service to be done. Grim and bloody as the business was, his quaint fashion of telling the story puts it in a humorous point of view. It was a bitterly severe winter, "but we lay down in the fields, having no shelter but some bushes on the bank of the river." The bivouac was raked by the castle batteries; it was all a dead level, and there was no protection of any kind. "The cannon from the castle did cleanse and scoure the fields about the sconce, and on the other side they plagued us still with cannon." It behoved them to have fires, but when the fires were kindled, the cannonade grew hotter and the aim more sure. Then we have a touch of Charles O'Malley's Peninsular compaigning. "One night, sitting at supper, a bullet of 32 lbs. weight shot tight out between Col. Hepburn's shoulder and mine, going through the Colonel's couch; the next shot killed a sergeant of mine by the fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco." That night the enemy made an outfall, "which was bravely repulsed by push of pike, slightly esteeming of the musket and scorning to use ours."

When the King opened his approaches on the other side of the castle, the sconce surrendered, and shortly afterwards the garrison of the castle had a disagreeable surprise. In some strange fashion a "privy passage" had been left unguarded. Two hundred of Ramsay's Scots had been guided to the outworks, which they carried by storm and fought their way into the heart of the defences. It was a long and desperate struggle, for the odds were great against the storming party, and the garrison disputed each inch of ground. All the time the town bells were tolling at intervals, and the roar of the Swedish batteries dominated the sounds of the combat. But before Gustavus could hurry forward the supports, Ramsay and his handful of musketeers were masters of the place. Many prisoners were taken in the sconce and the castle. Then occurred one of the common incidents of the war, when soldiers ransomed themselves lightly by changing sides. "Their colours being taken from them, they, willing to take service, were all disponed by his Majesty to Sir John Hepburn, who was not only a Colonel to them but a kind patron, putting them in good quarters till they were well armed and clad again. But their unthankfulness was such that they stayed not, but disbandoned all in Beyerland, for having once got the warm ayre of the summer, they were all gone before winter."

Mayence was taken. The Spaniards had pillaged the place before capitulating, and the Swedes laid it under heavy contributions. There the conqueror celebrated Christmas with ten or a dozen of the Princes of the Empire and many ambassadors from friendly states. Thence detachments of his troops overran the Rheingau and all the modern tourist country ; the vintages of Bingen, Bacharach, and Coblenz were at the mercy of the victors, and Munro himself was quartered at Bingen with a picket in Bishop Hatto's historical Mausethurm. The armies of Gustavus were victorious everywhere, and the chronicler complacently gives a long list of "the many worthy cavaliers of our nation," who were not only trusted before others with governments, but also honoured with the commanding of strangers.

There was a single exception. Tilly, after giving a check to Horn, had been mustering an army for the defence of Bavaria. The King, who never rested himself or gave the enemy time to repose, now marched for the Danube. Hepburn of the Scots Brigade was his right-hand man, as the irresistible advance rolled southward through Franconia. On the march they were reinforced by strong bodies of cavalry under the chivalrous Bernhardt of Saxe-Weimar. There was some sharp fighting with the veteran de Bouquoi, who was routed with loss and severely wounded.

On the 26th of March they sighted the Danube at Donau- worth, the key to Swabia, and with the fortified mountain of the Schellenberg a position deemed almost impregnable, which was to play a conspicuous part in the campaigns of Marlborough and Eugene. It was gallantly defended by the Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg, but was taken, sacked, and spoiled. So says Munro, who was foremost in the storm with his musketeers. Many of the garrison were slain, many more drowned in the river, and the rest "who got their lives were forced to take service in the regiments." But the Swedes did not gain much by those involuntary recruits. "Being papists of Bavaria, as soon as they smelt the smell of their father's houses, in less than ten days they were all gone."

Then the Swedes would have broken into Bavaria, but old Tilly was defending the passage of the Lech. With a tremendous artillery fire from the opposing field batteries, for a day and a half the passage was disputed; the Bavarians blanched as the raw Saxons had done at Leipzic, but Tilly's veterans manfully stood their ground, and possibly the issue of the battle might have been different had not Tilly "been shot in the knee with a cannon bullet, a cruel blow for an old man of seventy-two." The old hero was carried off to die at Ingolstadt, and then the chances of the Imperialists were gone. The death he would have desired spared him the mortification of learning that he was to be superseded by the Duke of Friedland. Munro, who could respect a valiant enemy, ranks him only second to the immortal Gustavus. " Wherein we have a notable example of an old, expert general, who being seventy-two years of age was ready to die in defence of his religion and country, . . . which end of his should encourage all brave cavaliers to follow his example both in life and in death, as with valorous soldiers. . . . And my wish were I might prove as valiant in advancing Christ's kingdom as he was in hindering it."

Augsburg, Ingolstadt, and all the fortified Bavarian cities fell fast one after another. When the citizens surrendered the garrisons got quarter, but elsewhere seldom during that merciless war was the warfare more ruthlessly waged. The peasants, who were bigoted Catholics to a man, not only murdered all stragglers, but subjected them to nameless tortures. By way of reprisals defenceless Bavarians were shot down without mercy, and their unwalled towns and villages given to the flames. So when the army approached the Bavarian capital, commissioners were sent out with the keys, "offering all kind of submission, for to spare from plundering of their city." His Majesty encamped his army outside the town, but trusted the guard of the gates and the market-place to Hepburn and the Scots, till he should make his formal entry next day. He housed himself in the palace, having for his guest the Elector Palatine whom Maximilian at the beginning of the war had hunted out of the Haradschin. The Duke before his flight had rather innocently buried his cannon. Inevitably, they were discovered and dug up. Munro declares there were r4o of them: twelve great pieces had been christened the twelve apostles. The Palatine recognised many of his own; others had been brought from Brunswick, and there was one charged with 30,000 golden ducats, though it seems strange that that portable property had not been carried off. While Munich was in occupation of the troops Hepburn, in appreciation of his services, was appointed military governor, with strict orders to preserve discipline and prevent looting. But the occupation did not last long, for news from the north-east suddenly recalled the Swedish King to central Germany.

The next act in the bloody drama is the famous siege of Nuremberg. Munro expresses no opinion as to the strategy of his idol, though that was the turning-point of the hitherto ever-victorious advance. Two great military geniuses were matched against each other, and for Gustavus it was something worse than a drawn game. Nuremberg had hesitated between two terrors, but had been driven to a decision. As a Protestant free city, all its sympathies were with the foreigners. It "made up twenty-four strong companies of foot," who carried on their colours as many letters of the alphabet. The King having "recognosced" the city, formed an encircling leaguer with sconces, redoubts, fosses, and barriers. Wallenstein, occupying the southern heights, had thrown up corresponding works over against them. Necessity has no law, and the foraging Swedes were almost as merciless as the more lawless and licentious Imperialists. The boors began to be unquiet and tumul-tuous. "But this uproar was but short, for when the Swedens drew out of the garrisons they killed the most part, and drove the rest into woods to seek their food with the swine, in burning a number of their dorpes." Then Munro breaks into one of his digressions to pay a generous tribute to Pappenheim, who was causing them infinite anxiety. "The Earle of Pappenheim, a worthy brave fellow, though he was our enemy, his valour and resolution I deemed so much of that it does me good to call his vertuous actions somewhat to memory and the successes he had in warlike employs. . . . This noble cavalier was so generous that nothing seemed difficult to him, fearing nothing, not death itself."

It is needless to recapitulate the familiar story of the fighting before the beleaguered city, but it brought Munro promotion in a way he would never have desired, for it was to sever him temporarily from a valued friend. Gustavus, whose temper must have been tried by the protracted siege and the impregnable Imperial positions, quarrelled with Hepburn, and apparently for no particular reason. Schiller says that Hepburn resented the King's having preferred a subordinate to some post of danger, which would have been really a tribute to the value of the fire-proof veteran. More plausibly it is attributed to an insult to the Brigadier's religion, for Hepburn was a devout Christian and a Catholic. Be that as it may, the King used language which could not be brooked by the high- spirited Scot, who left the apartment with his hand on his sword-hilt, exclaiming, "I will never unsheathe it again in the service of Sweden." He did not immediately quit the camp, and his Royal master appealed to him once again, and not in vain, in a moment of emergency, but Munro, with the rank of colonel, succeeded in command of the brigade.

Shortly afterwards he was invalided. At the storm of the Altenburg, a bullet took him above the haunch-bone, and he was only saved from death by the "iron-clicker" of his hanger. The King took an affectionate leave of him as he lay in hospital at Donauworth; they never met again, and he shared neither the dangers nor honours of Lutzen. There is real pathos and deep feeling in his elegy over the loss of such a leader as he could never hope to follow again. " This magnanimous King for his valour might well have been called the magnifique King: . . . he died standing, serving the public, . . . and he most willingly gave up the ghost, being all his life a King that feared God and walked uprightly in his calling, and as he lived Christianly, so he died most happily in the defence of the truth. I could take Heaven and Earth, Sun and Moon, minerals, &c., to witness that his colours ever flourished in the name of the Lord, and that his confidence was not set on the arm of man." Reverting to the subject, he sums up the pages afterwards by praying for such another leader as that invincible King. He can hardly have expected that the prayer would be answered, and after the idol he had worshipped was gone, his Memoirs may be briefly summed up. Though the shattered and enfeebled Scots Brigade was left "to rest" in Swabia, it was ever on active duty. Munro went to Scotland to enlist recruits, and recruits came over in considerable numbers. But the regiments again suffered severely at the disastrous battle of Nordlingen, where the Swedes were routed and Horne taken prisoner. Munro's brigade was terribly cut up, nor did it ever recover the losses. The peace of Mflnster closed the Thirty Years' War. After Nordlingen the Scottish regiments had been under the command of Bernhardt of Saxe- Weimar, and when the agreement was signed between Sweden and France, his troops were taken into the pay of France. Hepburn had unsheathed his sword in the service of Louis, and Munro was again under his old comrade. Munro's own regiment had been reduced to a single cornpany, and the remains of thirteen gallant Scotch corps which had fought under Gustavus in many a stricken field, were incorporated in the regiment d'Hebron, which by orders of the King was to rank before all others in the French service. Hebron, it may be explained, was the French rendering of Hepburn.

Munro's "Expedition" ends somewhat abruptly with the "Observation," among others, that the discipline of his regiment stood so high that many who were trained in it rose "from soldiers to be inferior officers, and then from their preferments and advancements" were promoted to other regiments. Even their enemies, he adds, could not but, duly praise them, calling them the invincible old regiment, and the Swedes were wont to strike terror into their enemies by borrowing their battle-music and imitating the Highland cheer.

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