SAXON CANDY OR A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY MEME

In the late summer of 1631, shortly after the storming of Magdeburg and before the fall of Leipzig, the Catholic League sent envoys to the Saxon court in Dresden. Kind of to warn the Elector of what was coming up...
In those days, a particularly redoubtable kind of marzipan was produced in Saxony (it's the marzipan in the Weihnachts-Stollen, or German version of the yule log cake).
This gave His Electoral Highness Georgy Porgy (Not kidding! The elector was called, due to his waistline, by a nickname of which "Georgy Porgy" would be the most convenient translation) von Wettin the chance to counterattack with a clever remark, should Leipzig share Magdeburg's fate:

ELECTOR GEORGE "GEORGY PORGY" VON WETTIN: So, you're coming hither for the Saxon candy... It may contain nuts!
"May contain nuts". Though in the sense of "hard nutshells" rather than allergy triggers. The Elector has actually sided with Sweden...

One week later, the Leaguesmen are coming, one third of Leipzig is on fire, a battle takes place on the plains of Breitenfeld (the "broad field" known to every Leipziger) on the seventh of September, guns are fired on both sides, Swedes win in spite of being outnumbered and having the sun in their faces (remember why? Lighter weaponry, revolutionary strategy, a younger and more charming leader), few free living Leaguesmen flee into the woods as the Protestants recapture Leipzig, Halle, and the surrounding area...
With old Count Tilly and his closest cronies (Pappenheim, Altringen et consortes) seriously injured and their army in tatters (those who haven't been slain or died of their wounds have been taken prisoner and recruited into Swedish service), the Catholic League is desintegrated. Another battle royale would be fatal: the League is knocked out until spring the next year, when they set up the last stand across the Lech (an "everything or nothing" scenario if you recall)...

And there was much rejoicing on the Protestant side: "Ding-dong, the Catholic League is dead!" There has been a lot of poetry about the subject, Gustavus (young and dashing and not that fundamentalistic) is always the hero and Tilly is portrayed as the antagonist (he is still LOVED in Austria and Bavaria, while Wallenstein is more or less blacklisted. But let's return to the Protestant sphere!).

In the seventeenth century, in spite of all the wars and witch-hunts, there was still humour. There was comedy. The Breitenfeld enterprise gave broadside and chapbook authors (many printers were based in Leipzig, the capital of literature in the early modern Germanosphere!) the perfect excuse (never defeated...) for satirizing Tilly. One poem, "General Tilly's Three Virtues Turned to Vices", put particular emphasis on nothing less than the old Walloon's legendary three virtues: chastity, temperance, and invincibility.
Here is the poem, written by Georg Gloger, that I have translated into English. Pay heed to the turning point and the punchline of the poem:

GENERAL TILLY'S THREE VIRTUES TURNED TO VICES

Until today, the Catholic Faith's sword, Count Tilly,
was defined by three virtues (they left all others be):
Never with wench or maiden had he had a good cheer.
Neither had he lost reason through liquor, wine, nor beer.
Third and most renowned: never a battle did he lose...
when born, his destiny did him for victory choose.
I believe that, through virtues so powerful three,
from threat of brains and brawn of foes he sure was free.
For a reward will always be waiting for the chaste:
those who restrain themselves overcome foes with haste.
The same for temperance: who steers clear of the cup,
in front of enemies will always win and stand up.

Since he got drunk on blood, and his reason waylaid,

                            and, thus intoxicated, raped the Saxon Maid,                                     

he couldn't make a stand upon the battlefield,

and thus, he's forced to flee, to the foeman to yield.

Those who get drunk on blood have surely got no measure,

those who rape maidens don't have good fortune nor pleasure.

They now call him what he deserves, that's old Count Tilly:

a rapist, a drunkard, and a loser forced to flee.

(Remark by the translator: the "Saxon Maid" refers to either Leipzig or Magdeburg)        

The Elector of Saxony's snark on Saxon marzipan became, at the same time, one of the first and widest spread memes in history, often illustrated by Gustavus Adolphus harassing his fundamentalist and septuagenarian sworn enemy in some or other way. In these broadsides, the dapper young King of Sweden usually inflicts a rather badass punishment:

"The Old German Dentist", etcetera. Leipzig, 1631.

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The full title of this comic panel reads "The Old German Dentist, who harasses or better said cures hypocritical, insincere Defectors and Candy Eaters (who get cavities) à la mode and better than any Charlatan".  A long but meaningful title, isn't it?
The picture depicts the end of the Battle of Breitenfeld. Catholic losers come in throngs to the surgeon's in the Swedish camp. All of them appear to be suffering from cavities (luckily, I have never had cavities, the closest thing being my currently pushing-up wisdom teeth, and that is searing pain!). There is a queue in account of rank, the Generalissimo sitting on the chair with a Jesuit and a Cardinal behind should this be the last dance. After Tilly, the lesser generals like Pappenheim and Altringen are waiting for their turn.
But our attention is drawn to the Walloon on the chair and the plumed figure, tongs in hand, ready to take on those cavities. And my reaction is "OMG! The dentist is Gustavus!!" Now that is gonna hurt!
Above Gustavus, we can read a transcription of the rant that he is delivering: "Halt, my lad! It's for all that candy..." Imagine Gustavus saying that with the voice of Cleese (think "Fresh fruit not good enough for you?!" or in Fawlty Towers as Mr. Fawlty when irate)...
Now both foes appear to be locking eyes, but the poem that accompanied this woodcut gives another, darker interpretation of this proximity. The whole poem is the rant Gustavus gives Tilly while pulling the veteran's cavities out. It appears to be written in a quite Carrollian or Shakespearean style (my translation from the German):

"I just can't seize your teeth, no pincer seems to fit.

You should, for your own good, between my legs now sit".

Homoerotic innuendo, the image of being sexually abused by the victor, ensues. Having one's teeth taken out could stand in for castration (through a Freudian lens): another equally painful and emasculating operation. And there is the idea of Tilly being past his prime, defeated by the younger and stronger Swede. There is more than meets the eye in this broadside ballad.
The poem continues with the old Walloon fainting in his chair as the Swede pulls the cavities out with his own fingers (orifice invasion, another metaphor for homoerotic rape). That must be bloody painful: having that done without any anaesthetic, not even surgeon's brandy (Jean 't Serclaes was not only sworn to temperance, but also a devout Catholic and a veteran warrior, used to sustain painful injuries without a single complaint)... by one's worst enemy with his own hands, so close to him that you can't figure out what he's going to do next... After that, he comes to, to hear the Vasa proceed with his rant:

"Hey, Old Corporal! If the pull has been in vain,

I know a recipe that will make you fit again.

Those gums are bleeding sore from marzipan excess,

and thus, under your belt, all that stays in that press

is ready to come out the one or other way...

Thus, cavities and aches and pains do come to stay.

And that would also explain the ringing in your ears,

and the pale and gray skin, and the cold sweat and tears."

Take that, Jean 't Serclaes, Count of Tilly! From Sweden with "loooove"!!

From the same co-ordinates in time and space (1631 in Leipzig) hails this other broadside, with a rather laconic and memetic two-word title:

"Saxon Candy". Leipzig, 1631.

"A table was once lavishly set on a broad field, 

where there were two heroes who didn't know to yield..."

These are Georgy Porgy and his Swedish ally. The sweets have names like "Religion", "Freedom", "Dignity", and even "Life". But a third character soon appears:

"A scoundrel came along, spurned by hate and greed, 

to whisk the sweets away, and stuff himself indeed..."

The heroes spring to action, defeating the scoundrel and his easily identified cronies:

"The great General whose deeds were proclaimed in cheers,

his Croatians, Walloons, and faithful Cavaliers,

those vast, Count-less Germanic ranks made of playing cards,

did either run away or lay down, slain, in shards".

Within the allegory, this is expressed when the consumed poison-laced sweets take effect, leaving the antagonist in a far worse state of health. The anonymous author nearly ends with the moral of the story:

"In my opinion, this to a proverb doth bring:

that one can have too much of a rather good thing.

And that one's expectations prove actually deceits:

think of Tilly when he went to Leipzig for sweets!"

But the crowner is a praise to God for the Protestant landslide victory, that turns the "Saxon candy" metaphor up to eleven and explains the hitherto veiled allegory:

"O Good Lord who with poison the candy had laced,

and around the world, thus, you're eternally graced!

To you honour and praise, and our thanks and the Light,

from the crack of the dawn to the fall of the night."

In the illustration (see above!), one can clearly distinguish the spires of Leipzig and the clashing armies in the background, but our attention is drawn to the table and the three characters. Tilly is standing on two unstable spheres branded "FRAUD" and "ENVY", and he is clearly losing balance, as Gustavus lunges at him with a cup of marzipan in the hand and a confident expression on his face. The King of Sweden is also delivering a rant in verse:

"So you've come here for the candy...

Thus we'll thwack you fine and dandy!"

He seems to be force-feeding the enemy general (compare the oral invasion in the previous broadside) perhaps to suffocate him, perhaps to give him a taste of the poisoned or liquor-laced sweets. That's what I would reply to Tilly's envoy were I the Electoress of Saxony!

"GEORGIANA ALEXANDRA VON WETTIN": Go tell your old general that we do have fine sweets, we make them with love in Dresden and in Leipzig... but those are liquor marzipans! Yet they're so sweet that he won't find out there is liquor in them until they've gone down at last... The lessons that you'll learn from his very first hangover!

But what did Gustavus and Tilly think of each other? Luckily, there are actual reports of them regarding each other as worthy opponents:
Jean 't Serclaes, Count of Tilly (between Breitenfeld and the Lech, in late 1631): "The King of Sweden is both brave and clever, in the prime of his life yet a seasoned warrior. He is a gambler against whom not to have lost is to have won a great deal."
Jean 't Serclaes, Count of Tilly (on his deathbed, to Gustavus's personal surgeon, who was tending to his wounds): "Your liege is truly one noble knight!"
Gustavus Adolphus Vasa, King of Sweden (during Tilly's funeral in Bavaria, April 1632, having sent his own surgeon to tend to the enemy general): "Alas! The honorable old Tilly is no more!"

As for Wallenstein, he cared only for himself. He was temporarily unavailable. And he was mad as a hatter.