were nimble and independent. In the seventeenth century, on the
contrary, the construction and preservation of fortresses and depots,
and communications with these, and operations against the enemy’s
fortresses, depots, and communications became the chief study. This
marked difference in system is shown in the military literature of
these periods. Any operations which lay outside of battle, the ancients
ascribed to the genius of the general, assumed that these were subject
to no method and could not be learned; or at best classed them with
mere stratagems. Their object and scope was not understood, nor indeed
considered of much moment. Older military literature does not in any
sense deal with them. Soldiers believed that the whole success of war
was based on courage and hard knocks.
But about the time of the Thirty Years’ War, theorists had discovered
that there were other means, besides battle, of doing harm to the
enemy, and began to reduce such principles as they could extract
from the campaigns of the better generals to a permanent form. Their
work was, however, only partial and scrappy. The most important
document which first saw the light was Frederick the Great’s “General
Principles” or “Instructions” for his officers. This paper, written
before the Seven Years’ War and purposely kept in manuscript for a
number of years, was finally pirated and published in 1753. It is a
noble work. But Frederick’s deeds inspired a yet more important one.
Serving in the Austrian army as captain of light-horse, was a young
Welshman of good education and extraordinary perceptions,--Henry Lloyd.
This man’s inquiring mind was not satisfied with the half-and-half
explanations which the then military books could give him of the
wonderful exploits of the great king, whose marvellous manœuvres he had
so often followed on scouting duty, and from which the Austrian army
so bitterly suffered. He began, with singular critical and analytical
equipoise, to study these and seek reasons for their success. He served
under Ferdinand of Brunswick in the two last campaigns of the Seven
Years’ War, and later was Major-general in the Russian army. He spent
his old age in Belgium. Among other works he wrote a “Military and
Political Memoir,” which contains the important part of his labors. It
was issued in 1780. The ground-work of our modern science of war is
therein laid down. It is the first work except Frederick’s in which
are exhibited in comprehensible form the true principles of conducting
war. It is here first pointed out that intellect and moral forces
combined go to make up the great captain. But what Lloyd says is mainly
applicable to his own times and conditions, and is not exhaustive.
He remarks that the art of war is, like all other art, founded on
well-settled rules, to which alterations can only be made in the
application. He divides it into two parts, the material, which can be
subjected to rules, and another part which one can neither limit nor
teach, and which consists in the ability to apply the rules of the
first part quickly and correctly under rapidly changing and various
circumstances. This is the same distinction which Napoleon draws
between what he aptly calls the terrestrial and the divine in the art.
The divine part, says he, embraces all that comes from the moral forces
of the character and talents, from the power to gauge your adversary,
to infuse confidence and spirit into the soldier, who will be strong
and victorious, feeble and beaten, according as he thinks he is. The
terrestrial part comprises the arms, entrenchments, orders of battle,
all which consists in the mere combination or use of everyday matters.
It is singular that this analysis of the art of the great soldier is
but one hundred years old, that only within three generations has been
recognized its divine part.
The man, however, who has crowned with his acumen the written science
of war is Jomini, who first became known as a young staff-officer
of Marshal Ney’s, and died but twenty years ago. Though he rose to
the highest rank in the Russian service, his career was as military
adviser rather than as commander. His chief value to us lies in his
having collated and so plainly set down the lessons taught by the great
captains, particularly Frederick and Napoleon, that all may now study
them, as during the last century they could not be studied,--were not
even understood. He has enabled us to assimilate the history of war.
Other military students have since written with equal profundity. But
our debt to Jomini is not lessened thereby.
Gustavus Adolphus was born in Stockholm, in 1594, the son of Charles
IX. of Sweden, but at a time when his cousin Sigismund III. occupied
the throne. He was a lad of great personal beauty and strength, and
his naturally bright mind profited well by the careful training he
received. His boyhood showed all the traits of strong earnestness,
clean-cut courage, and deep religious feeling which later characterized
the Champion of the Reformation. Of naturally quick temper, in youth a
blow followed a word; in manhood he acquired exceptional self-control.
His education was largely under the direction of Oxenstiern, who later
became his prime-minister, general, and greatest intimate. He was a
constant reader, an eloquent and persuasive speaker, a poet whose
religious verses are still sung in every household of Sweden. He was
famous in athletics, and was both a noted rider and able swordsman.
The Swedish government was an elective-hereditary monarchy. Sigismund,
a bigoted Catholic, was deposed when Gustavus was ten years old, and
the lad’s father made king. Sigismund retired to Poland, of which
country he was also monarch, and remained thereafter the sworn enemy of
Charles and of Gustavus.
The young prince went through every step of military rank and
training, and at seventeen was declared of age and participated with
distinguished credit, and rare skill and enterprise, in a war with
Denmark. In this same year (A.D. 1611) his father died, and, against
all precedent, Gustavus Adolphus was chosen king. During his reign of
twenty-one years, his people and he were an unit. The world has never
seen a more striking instance of mutual love and confidence, justly
earned, between king and people.
Sweden was at war with Denmark, Russia, and Poland. Gustavus determined
to finish each war, if possible, singly and in turn. From the very
beginning he showed in his military conduct that his intelligence
ranged beyond the conventional method of conducting war, which he
had been taught with so much care. In 1613 he conquered a peace with
Denmark.
In 1614 he began war with Russia, making, meanwhile, a two years’ truce
with Poland. In this year, and the next, he drew the attention of all
Europe to his bold invasion of the Russian territory, at the point
where now stands St. Petersburg, and was for the first time approached
by the Protestants of Germany with a request to aid their cause. In
1617 Gustavus conquered a peace with Russia.
Sigismund would not hear of peace, but under the curious habit of that
day, of conducting war on a sort of picnic system, he did extend the
existing truce for five years. At its expiration, in 1621, active war
began. Gustavus, with twenty-four thousand men, making Livonia his
objective, landed at Riga, took the place, and from thence as a base,
conducted his campaign.
Sigismund represented the Catholic element; Gustavus was the most
prominent Protestant prince, and as such received many urgent petitions
for help from the harassed Protestants of Germany. The eventual
necessity of taking a share in the religious war was clearly foreseen
by Sweden. With the advice and consent of the ministry and people,
Gustavus reorganized the army and created a distinctly national force
of eighty thousand men, and based its discipline and character on the
most intelligent foundation. Sweden thus acquired the first modern
regular military organization. Other nations, as a rule, whenever a war
was imminent, raised troops from the crowds of soldiers of fortune,
with whom all Europe swarmed, and discharged them after its expiration.
The Swedish organization consisted of one-quarter regular troops for
service out of the country, and three-quarters landwehr for the defence
of the Fatherland and for filling gaps in the regulars. Recruitment was
by districts on a well-settled plan of quotas. The troops in service
and the militia were scrupulously drilled and taught, uniformed, well
armed and fed, and regularly paid.
The Polish war lasted until 1629, the campaigns being annual, but
varying in scope. Gustavus invariably took the offensive, and was
habitually successful. He was always head and front of every movement,
full of intelligence, activity, and courage, ran constantly great
personal danger, and suffered from frequent wounds. No character of
modern history exhibits the qualities of the ancient hero so distinctly
as Gustavus Adolphus. Cautious and intelligent to a marked degree in
his campaigns, he was in battle a very Alexander for audacity and
chivalrous bearing. Always in the thickest of the fray, he led his men
in person, and, despite the protests of his generals and suite, could
never be restrained from exposing himself at the point of greatest
importance. He was unwisely reckless of his own safety, though never
losing for a moment his cool calculation or power to gauge the
situation. His army partook his enthusiasm, as it shared his earnest
religious feeling, and was devotedly attached to him as man and king.
In 1628, Wallenstein, the distinguished commander of the Imperial
forces, had won great success in northern Germany, and had laid siege
to Stralsund. The German Protestants again turned with piteous appeals
to Gustavus. The king well knew that sooner or later Protestant Sweden
must, in self-defence, enter the lists against the Catholic Empire, and
threw a Swedish garrison into Stralsund, which, gallantly backed by the
citizens, held the place against Wallenstein’s best efforts.
In the campaign of 1629, the Emperor sent an army to reënforce the
Poles. This the more impelled Gustavus to actively embrace the
Protestant cause. At the end of this campaign, Sigismund, largely under
the influence of Richelieu, was prevailed on to agree to a six years’
truce. France could not openly join the Protestants in their struggle
against the Catholic Emperor, but was glad to see Gustavus do so in
order to check such success by Ferdinand as might disturb the balance
of power.
This truce ended the Swedish-Polish wars, which had lasted eight years
(1621–1629). The king had conducted six campaigns against Poland, and
two against Denmark and Russia. These were to him what the Gallic
campaigns were to Cæsar, a practical school of war, in which both he
could learn his trade, and his army be disciplined and toughened. He
had observed the practical working of his new army organization, and
learned the weak points of the existing system of war. Comparison
showed the advantages of his own conceptions. In the three remaining
years of his life he moulded these into a new art, which pointed the
way back to a system full of intellectual and moral force as well as
more consonant with common Christian charity. The king, during this
period, gleaned varied experience. He learned the habits of different
leaders and armies, and how to adapt his own ways to theirs. His
infantry underwent a good schooling. His cavalry he gradually improved
by imitating the admirable Polish horsemen, and by adding discipline
and _ensemble_ to it. His artillery gave a good account of itself.
Under Gustavus’ careful eye, every branch of the service during these
campaigns grew in efficiency. Equipment, arms, rationing, medical
attendance, drill and discipline, field-manœuvres, camp and garrison
duty, reached a high grade of perfection. Each year added to the skill
and self-poise of the Swedish forces. They were distinctly superior to
any European army of the day.
Not only had Gustavus learned to know his generals and men, but these
had gauged their king. There had arisen between them that mutual
confidence, esteem, and affection which only great souls ever evoke
and keep. And as there was no danger or labor of which Gustavus did
not bear with them his equal part, so the Swedish army saw in its king
a harbinger of victory, a sure protection in disaster. Gustavus’ own
character, his bravery, religious ardor, honesty, and humanity infused
itself into every soldier in the Swedish ranks.
Gustavus Adolphus was now in a position to afford efficient aid to the
German Protestants. The efforts of the latter had been noble, but far
from systematic, and they were fast being driven to the wall. The war
had been marked by barbarities characteristic of religious struggles,
and by the adoption of happy-go-lucky plans of campaign. Armies had
moved into a province, not because it was strategically important,
but because it was rich in plunder. Manœuvres were conducted without
reference to base or communications. There was no aim beyond temporary
expediency in any one’s movements. A fortress would arrest the march of
an army, which would sit down before it without the remotest conception
of whether its capture would have an effect on the general result.
Lack of system was supplemented by religious fanaticism, which made
everything redolent of atrocity. No general but was characterized by
some fearful vice. Gustavus Adolphus was destined to change all this in
a short two years.
As a soldier Gustavus is less noted for his battles than for the
conduct, in 1630, 1631, and 1632, of a campaign on one broad,
intelligent, far-seeing plan, from which he never swerved. This of
itself was an entire novelty in this period of shallow operations. In
lieu of detailing one of his manœuvres, I will give a hasty sketch of
his entire plan of campaign in Germany. This was the first crisply
strategic series of operations since the days of Cæsar.
It was clear that if the Emperor overcame the Protestants of Germany
he would turn on Sweden. To await attack was the preference of the
Swedish ministry. But Gustavus pointed out the advantages of an
immediate offensive war in Germany. The struggle would be kept from
Swedish territory. The Emperor would not gain so much headway as to lay
Sweden open to an exhausting war. They owed a duty to their oppressed
Protestant brethren. He convinced his people and gained their support.
He took with him fifteen thousand men. This number he expected to, and
did in fact, largely increase in Germany by recruitment and the aid of
Protestant allies.
Gustavus landed in Rügen in June, 1630. He added five thousand men
of the Stralsund garrison to his army, and took possession of all
the islands at the mouths of the Oder. He then captured Stettin and
extended his grasp right and left along the coast. He proposed to base
himself on the Baltic, as Alexander had done on the Mediterranean.
He took and garrisoned many seaboard towns and others lying not far
inland. His army, reënforced by German allies and recruitment, soon
rose to twenty-five thousand men, and he established a firm footing
on the Oder, which river was an excellent line for operations into
the heart of Germany. The imperial Field Marshal Conti, who had ten
thousand men in his front, was unable to interfere with his operations.
Garrisoning Stettin, Gustavus moved into Mecklenburg to encourage its
Protestant princes, further secure his base, increase his supplies and
forces, and gain active allies. He relied on collecting seventy to
eighty thousand men. Count Tilly had been put in supreme command of the
Imperial forces, in place of Wallenstein, against whom the Catholic
princes had conceived a marked prejudice. This resulted in disbanding
a large part of Wallenstein’s soldiers, who considered themselves
only in his personal service, and left Ferdinand for the nonce but
unimportant armies to oppose to the Swedish advance.
[Illustration: CAMPAIGN OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS IN GERMANY, 1630–1–2]
Having substantially rescued Mecklenburg from the Imperialists,
Gustavus left a force to operate there and returned to Stettin,
purposing to move with the main army up the Oder (Dec., 1630). The
end of the year was at hand. The Imperial army in his front was in
no condition for a winter campaign, either from habit, discipline,
or equipment. For this very reason Gustavus moved against it, his
own troops being well clad and equipped, and inured to cold. He soon
drove the enemy back to the line of the Warta, and then sat down in
an entrenched camp at Bärwalde till he could recruit his army up to
a standard equal to larger operations. The Protestant Elector of
Brandenburg meanly refused his help to the cause, but Catholic France
subsidized the king, and the Protestants called an assembly at Leipsic
to agree on new measures of defence.
Tilly now appeared on the scene, thirty-four thousand strong. The king
had but twenty-five thousand men and would not risk a battle, neither
would Tilly assault the Bärwalde camp. But Gustavus had a better
scheme in his head. He planned to draw Tilly into Mecklenburg, and
then quickly return and capture the enemy’s line on the Warta. He made
forced marches into that province, fell on the Imperialists and again
defeated them. Tilly, alarmed, followed with twenty-four thousand men.
Gustavus, by occupying the direct road, had compelled Tilly to resort
to a long circuit. When Tilly was fairly on the way, Gustavus moved
rapidly and secretly back to Stettin, advanced on Frankfort, took it
after a seventeen days’ siege, and thus broke up the enemy’s line.
The Warta fully protected his left flank in advancing into Germany.
Gustavus had completely baffled his adversary. But Tilly took bitter
revenge by the capture of Magdeburg, which, though it cannot perhaps be
charged to Tilly himself, was given up to sack, and suffered a horrible
fate at the hands of his unbridled soldiery. Gustavus had been unable
to cross neutral Brandenburg to its assistance.
The barbarous treatment of Magdeburg enraged instead of disheartening
the Protestants. Two able allies, Hesse Cassel and Saxony, joined the
king’s train. And by able manœuvring, restless energy, and clear-headed
method he swept Pomerania and Mecklenburg of Imperial troops.
The pusillanimous conduct of the Elector of Brandenburg, under the plea
of neutrality, finally constrained Gustavus to dictate terms to him. He
marched on Berlin and compelled the Elector to allow free passage to
the Swedes over his territory, as well as to refrain from damaging the
Protestant cause, if he would not help it.
Thus in one year from his landing in Germany, Gustavus had occupied
Pomerania and Mecklenburg, and had neutralized Brandenburg (June,
1631). By holding the lines of the Havel, the Spree, and the Oder, he
controlled all the territory to the confines of Poland and Silesia, and
with a sufficiency of reënforcements he could safely advance on central
Germany.
Tilly invaded Hesse Cassel. Gustavus tried a diversion to lure him away
from his new ally. Count Pappenheim opposed him at the Elbe. Gustavus
stole a clever march on him, crossed and went into an entrenched camp
near Werben. These entrenched camps, it will be perceived, were a
feature of this period which Gustavus still affected. They continued in
use until he himself in part, and Frederick wholly, demonstrated that
entrenchments could be taken by vigorous assault. At this time it was
considered the height of foolhardiness to attack entrenchments.
Tilly vacated Hesse Cassel and moved on the Swedish camp. Gustavus
had but ten thousand men there; Tilly had twenty-seven thousand; but
the king waylaid Tilly’s isolated cavalry, handled it roughly, and
returned safely to camp. Tilly, despite his excess of force, did not
care to risk an assault. Large reënforcements soon reached both armies.
Gustavus’ diversion had accomplished all he sought. By defending
the line of the Elbe and Havel, he prevented Tilly from making any
compromising advance.
Tilly was ordered to Saxony. The cruelties here perpetrated by his
troops made the Elector all the better ally. He offered Gustavus the
support of his army of eighteen thousand men. The king again crossed
the Elbe, at Wittenberg, and joined the Saxons at Düben. This gave
him a force of forty thousand men, of which twelve thousand were
cavalry. Tilly had arrived at Leipsic, and promptly advanced to meet
Gustavus with thirty-two thousand under the colors. But, at the battle
of Breitenfeld, he suffered a stinging defeat, with the loss of six
thousand men.
Tilly’s soldiers were in action much what their commander was,--a
stiff, dense, unwieldy mass, still hide-bound in the Spanish school,
which won its way by mere weight of men in the old phalangial manner.
The Swedes were quite a different body. Gustavus had reduced the number
of their firing-ranks to three, placed reliance on their individual
intelligence, which was marked, and had drilled his musketeers, as
well as his gunners, to fire as much more rapidly than the enemy, as
Frederick’s men with their iron ramrods, or the Prussians of this
generation with their needle-guns. In this, his first great battle, the
result was, despite the ignominious flight of the Saxons, predetermined
by the condition of the respective armies and their leaders. Here, as
on all occasions, the king, in personal conduct, was an Alexander in
audacity; a Cæsar in intelligence.
Gustavus Adolphus had been only fourteen months in Germany, but he had
by his broad, prescient, cautious, and well-digested scheme, crowned
by the victory of Breitenfeld, completely changed the prospects of the
Protestants. He had got a firm footing in northern Germany, where he
now held most of the strong places. He had secured his communications
with Sweden by the possession of the sea. He had grown in strength by
his treaties with Hesse Cassel and Saxony, and by accessions of troops
from all quarters. He had gained enormously in moral weight, and his
army in _aplomb_ and confidence. His operations had been slow and
cautious,--though rapid when measured by the times,--but they had been
sure, and were justified by the event. The late victory had placed him
on a totally different footing. The Catholic party no longer looked
down on the “Snow-king,” as Wallenstein had jeeringly called him.
The Imperial army had lost in spirit and organization that which he
had gained. Its present retreat to the Weser opened the heart of the
Emperor’s possessions to the king’s advance. The former’s authority had
received its first severe blow, and the Protestants of north and west
Germany, lately cowed into submission, now rose and joined Gustavus’
standard. These fourteen months had shifted the moral superiority from
the Catholic to the Protestant cause. But the work was far from ended.
It required the same wise and cautious action, coupled with vigor and
intelligence, to complete what had been so well begun.