In November, 1631, Wallenstein met his old lieutenant, Arnim, now the Saxon commander, to discuss the chances of the future. In December, just as Gustavus was approaching the Rhine, he received a visit from Eggenberg, at Znaim. Eggenberg had come expressly to persuade him to accept the command once more. Wallenstein gave his consent, on condition that the ecclesiastical lands should be left as they were before the Edict of Restitution. And besides this he was to wield an authority such as no general had ever claimed before. No army could be introduced into the Empire excepting under his command. To him alone was to belong the right of confiscation and of pardon. As Gustavus was proposing to deal with the ecclesiastical territories, so would Wallenstein deal with the princes who refused to renounce their alliance with the Swede. A new class of princes would arise, owing their existence to him alone. As for his own claims, if Mecklenburg could not be recovered, a princely territory was to be found for him elsewhere. [Sidenote: § 6. Wallenstein's army.] After all it was not upon written documents that Wallenstein's power was founded. The army which he gathered round him was no Austrian army in any real sense of the word. It was the army of Wallenstein--of the Duke of Friedland, as the soldiers loved to call him, thinking perhaps that his duchy of Mecklenburg would prove but a transitory possession. Its first expenses were met with the help of Spanish subsidies. But after that it had to depend on itself. Nor was it more than an accident that it was levied and equipped in Bohemia. If Gustavus had been at Vienna instead of at Munich, the thousands of stalwart men who trooped in at Wallenstein's bare word would have gathered to any place where he had set up his standards. Gustavus had to face the old evil of the war, which had grown worse and worse from the days of Mansfeld to those of Wallenstein, the evil of a military force existing by itself and for itself. From far distant shores men practised in arms came eagerly to the summons; from sunny Italy, from hardy Scotland, from every German land between the Baltic and the Alps. Protestant and Catholic were alike welcome there. The great German poet has breathed the spirit of this heterogeneous force into one of its officers, himself a wanderer from distant Ireland, ever prodigal of her blood in the quarrels of others. "This vast and mighty host," he says (Schiller, _The Piccolomini_, act i. sc. 2),