Wallenstein possessed, the universal reputation he enjoyed, the rapidity with which six years before he had assembled an army of 40,000 men, the little expense at which he had maintained this formidable force, the actions he had performed at its head, and lastly, the zeal and fidelity he had displayed for his master’s honor, still lived in the Emperor’s recollection and made Wallenstein seem to him the ablest instrument to restore the balance between the belligerent powers, to save Austria, and preserve the Catholic religion.  However sensibly the imperial pride might feel the humiliation, in being forced to make so unequivocal an admission of past errors and present necessity; however painful it was to descend to humble entreaties, from the height of imperial command; however doubtful the fidelity of so deeply injured and implacable a character; however loudly and urgently the Spanish minister and the Elector of Bavaria protested against this step, the immediate pressure of necessity finally overcame every other consideration, and the friends of the duke were empowered to consult him on the subject and to hold out the prospect of his restoration.

Informed of all that was transacted in the Emperor’s cabinet to his advantage, Wallenstein possessed sufficient self-command to conceal his inward triumph and to assume the mask of indifference.  The moment of vengeance was at last come, and his proud heart exulted in the prospect of repaying with interest the injuries of the Emperor.  With artful eloquence, he expatiated upon the happy tranquillity of a private station, which had blessed him since his retirement from a political stage.  Too long, he said, had he tasted the pleasures of ease and independence, to sacrifice to the vain phantom of glory the uncertain favor of princes.  All his desire of power and distinction were extinct:  tranquillity and repose were now the sole object of his wishes.  The better to conceal his real impatience, he declined the Emperor’s invitation to the court, but at the same time, to facilitate the negotiations, came to Znaim in Moravia.

At first, it was proposed to limit the authority to be intrusted to him, by the presence of a superior, in order, by this expedient, to silence the objections of the Elector of Bavaria.  The imperial deputies, Questenberg and Werdenberg, who, as old friends of the duke, had been employed in this delicate mission, were instructed to propose that the King of Hungary should remain with the army and learn the art of war under Wallenstein.  But the very mention of his name threatened to put a period to the whole negotiation.  “No! never,” exclaimed Wallenstein, “will I submit to a colleague in my office.  No—­not even if it were God himself with whom I should have to share my command.”  But even when this obnoxious point was given up, Prince Eggenberg, the Emperor’s minister and favorite, who had always been the steady friend and zealous champion of Wallenstein and was therefore expressly sent to him, exhausted