indefeasible birthright. His title to command rested on that sublime
force of will and decision of character by which, in an age of great
men, he was raised above them all. It is a gift which supposes and
requires in him on whom it is conferred convictions too firm to be
shaken by the discovery of any unperceived or unheeded truths. It is,
therefore, a gift which, when bestowed on the governors of nations, also
presupposes in them the patience to investigate, the capacity to
comprehend, and the genius to combine, all those views of the national
interest, under the guidance of which their inflexible policy is to be
conducted to its destined consummation; for the stoutest hearted men, if
acting in ignorance, or under the impulse of haste or of error, must
often pause, often hesitate, and not seldom recede. Richelieu was
exposed to no such danger. He moved onward to his predetermined ends
with that unfaltering step which attests, not merely a stern
immutability of purpose, but a comprehensive survey of the path to be
trodden, and a profound acquaintance with all its difficulties and all
its resources. It was a path from which he could be turned aside
neither by his bad nor by his good genius; neither by fear, lassitude,
interest, nor pleasure; nor by justice, pity, humanity, nor conscience.
The idolatrous homage of mere mental power, without reference to the
motives by which it is governed, or to the ends to which it is
addressed--that blind hero-worship, which would place Wallenstein and
Gustavus Adolphus on the same level, and extol with equal warmth the
triumphs of Cromwell and of Washington, though it be a modern fashion,
has certainly not the charm of novelty. On the contrary, it might, in
the language of the Puritans, be described as one of the “old follies of
the old Adam”; and to the influence of that folly the reputation of
Richelieu is not a little indebted.
In his estimate, the absolute dominion of the French crown and the
grandeur of France were convertible terms. They seemed to him but as two
different aspects of the great consummation to which every hour of his
political life was devoted. In approaching that ultimate goal, there
were to be surmounted many obstacles which he distinctly perceived, and
of which he has given a very clear summary in his “Testament Politique.”
“When it pleased your majesty,” he says, “to give me not only a place in
your council, but a great share in the conduct of your affairs, the
Huguenots divided the state with you. The great lords were acting, not
as your subjects, but as independent chieftains. The governors of your
provinces were conducting themselves like so many sovereign princes.
Foreign affairs and alliances were disregarded. The interest of the
public was postponed to that of private men. In a word, your authority
was, at that time so torn to shreds, and so unlike what it ought to be,
that, in the confusion, it was impossible to recognize the genuine
traces of your royal power.”
Before his death, Richelieu had triumphed over all these enemies, and
had elevated the house of Bourbon upon their ruins. He is, I believe,
the only human being who ever conceived and executed, in the spirit of
philosophy, the design of erecting a political despotism; not, indeed a
despotism like that of Constantinople or Teheran, but a power which,
being restrained by religion, by learning, and by public spirit, was to
be exempted from all other restraints; a dynasty which, like a kind of
subordinate providence, was to spread wide its arms for the guidance and
shelter of the subject multitude, itself the while inhabiting a region
too lofty to be ever darkened by the mists of human weakness or of human
corruption.
To devise schemes worthy of the academies of Laputa, and to pursue them
with all the relentless perseverance of Cortés or of Clive, has been
characteristic of many of the statesmen of France, both in remote and in
recent times. Richelieu was but a more successful Mirabeau. He was not
so much a minister as a dictator. He was rather the depositary than the
agent of the royal power. A king in all things but the name, he reigned
with that exemption from hereditary and domestic influences which has so
often imparted to the papal monarchs a kind of preterhuman energy, and
has so often taught the world to deprecate the celibacy of the throne.
Richelieu was the heir of the designs of Henry IV, and the ancestor of
those of Louis XIV. But they courted, and were sustained by, the
applause and the attachment of their subjects. He passed his life in one
unintermitted struggle with each, in turn, of the powerful bodies over
which he ruled. By a long series of well-directed blows, he crushed
forever the political and military strength of the Huguenots. By his
strong hand, the sovereign courts were confined to their judicial
duties, and their claims to participate in the government of the state
were scattered to the winds. Trampling under foot all rules of judicial
procedure and the clearest principles of justice, he brought to the
scaffold one after another of the proudest nobles of France, by
sentences dictated by himself to extraordinary judges of his own
selection; thus teaching the doctrine of social equality by lessons too
impressive to be misinterpreted or forgotten by any later generation.
Both the privileges, in exchange for which the greater fiefs had
surrendered their independence, and the franchises, for the conquest of
which the cities, in earlier times, had successfully contended, were
alike swept away by this remorseless innovator. He exiled the mother,
oppressed the wife, degraded the brother, banished the confessor, and
put to death the kinsmen and favorites of the king, and compelled the
king himself to be the instrument of these domestic severities. Though
surrounded by enemies and by rivals, his power ended only with his life.
Though beset by assassins, he died in the ordinary course of nature.
Though he had waded to dominion through slaughter, cruelty, and wrong,
he passed to his great account amid the applause of the people, with the
benedictions of the Church; and, as far as any human being ever could
perceive, in hope, in tranquility, and in peace.
What, then, is the reason why so tumultuous a career reached at length
so serene a close? The reason is that, amid all his conflicts, Richelieu
wisely and successfully maintained three powerful alliances. He
cultivated the attachment of men of letters, the favor of the commons,
and the sympathy of all French idolaters of the national glory.
He was a man of extensive, if not of profound, learning, a theologian of
some account, and an aspirant for fame as a dramatist, a wit, a poet,
and a historian. But if his claims to admiration as a writer were
disputable, none contended his title to applause as a patron of
literature and of art. The founder of a despotism in the world of
politics, he aspired also to be the founder of a commonwealth in the
world of letters. While crushing the national liberties, he founded the
French Academy as the sacred shrine of intellectual freedom and
independence. Acknowledging no equal in the state, he forbade the
acknowledgment, in that literary republic, of any superiority save that
of genius. While refusing to bare his head to any earthly potentate, he
would permit no eminent author to stand bareheaded in his presence. By
these cheap and not dishonest arts, he gained an inestimable advantage.
The honors he conferred on the men of learning of his age they largely
repaid, by placing under his control the main-springs of public opinion.
To conciliate the commons of France, Richelieu even ostentatiously
divested himself of every prejudice hostile to his popularity. A prince
of the Church of Rome, he cherished the independence of the Gallican
Church and clergy. The conqueror of the Calvinists, he yet respected the
rights of conscience. Of noble birth and ancestry, his demeanor was
still that of a tribune of the people. But it was not by demeanor alone
that he labored to win their regard. He affected the more solid praise
of large and salutary reformations.
GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, KING OF SWEDEN.
BY FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER.
[Known as the Protector of the Protestant Faith, the most brilliant
hero of the Thirty Years’ War, and one of the greatest soldiers of
modern times, born 1594, killed at the battle of Lutzen, 1632. In
1630, the Swedish king having satisfactorily disposed of the
various national difficulties which had so far embarrassed his
career, threw the weight of his gantlet into the struggle going on
between the Catholic league, headed by Ferdinand of Austria, and
the Protestant princes of Germany. The great genius of Gustavus
Adolphus, who taught an entirely new system of tactics, made him
irresistible, and in two years he firmly established a Protestant
ascendancy in German affairs which no power afterward could break.
Wallenstein was his most brilliant antagonist. After the death of
the Swedish hero, the generals who had been trained in his school
continued the war with various vicissitudes till peace was
declared, substantially granting the rights for which the
Protestant chieftains had been fighting.]
Gustavus Adolphus had not completed his seventeenth year when the
Swedish throne became vacant by the death of his father; but the early
maturity of his genius enabled the Estates to abridge in his favor the
legal period of minority. With a glorious conquest over himself, he
commenced a reign which was to have victory for its constant
attendant--a career which was to begin and end in success. The young
Countess of Brahe, the daughter of a subject, had gained his early
affections, and he had resolved to share with her the Swedish throne;
but, constrained by time and circumstances, he made his attachment yield
to the higher duties of a king, and heroism again took exclusive
possession of a heart which was not destined by nature to confine itself
within the limits of quiet domestic happiness.
Christian IV of Denmark, who ascended the throne before the birth of
Gustavus, in an inroad upon Sweden, had gained some considerable
advantages over the father of that hero. Gustavus Adolphus hastened to
put an end to this destructive war, and, by prudent sacrifices, obtained
a peace in order to turn his arms against the czar of Muscovy. The
questionable fame of a conqueror never tempted him to spend the blood of
his subjects in unjust wars; but he never shrunk from a just one. His
arms were successful against Russia, and Sweden was augmented by several
important provinces on the east.
In the meantime, Sigismund of Poland retained against the son the same
sentiments of hostility which the father had provoked, and left no
artifice untried to shake the allegiance of his subjects, to cool the
ardor of his friends, and to embitter his enemies. Neither the great
qualities of his rival, nor the repeated proofs of devotion which Sweden
gave to her loved monarch, could extinguish in this infatuated prince
the foolish hope of regaining his lost throne. All Gustavus’s overtures
were haughtily rejected. Unwillingly was this really peaceful king
involved in a tedious war with Poland, in which the whole of Livonia and
Polish Prussia were successively conquered. Though constantly
victorious, Gustavus Adolphus was always the first to hold out the hand
of peace.
After the unsuccessful attempt of the king of Denmark to check the
emperor’s[26] progress, Gustavus Adolphus was the only prince in Europe
to whom oppressed liberty could look for protection--the only one who,
while he was personally qualified to conduct such an enterprise, had
both political motives to recommend and wrongs to justify it. Before the
commencement of the war in Lower Saxony, important political interests
induced him, as well as the king of Denmark, to offer his services and
his army for the defense of Germany; but the offer of the latter had, to
his own misfortune, been preferred. Since that time Wallenstein and the
emperor had adopted measures which must have been equally offensive to
him as a man and as a king. Imperial troops had been dispatched to the
aid of the Polish king, Sigismund, to defend Prussia against the Swedes.
When the king complained to Wallenstein of this act of hostility, he
received for answer, “The emperor has more soldiers than he wants for
himself; he must help his friends.” The Swedish ambassadors had been
insolently ordered by Wallenstein to withdraw from the conference at
Lubeck; and when, unawed by this command, they were courageous enough to
remain, contrary to the law of nations, he had threatened them with
violence.
Ferdinand had also insulted the Swedish flag, and intercepted the king’s
dispatches to Transylvania. He also threw every obstacle in the way of a
peace between Poland and Sweden, supported the pretensions of Sigismund
to the Swedish throne, and denied the right of Gustavus to the title of
king. Deigning no regard to the repeated remonstrances of Gustavus, he
rather aggravated the offence by new grievances than conceded the
required satisfaction.
So many personal motives, supported by important considerations, both of
policy and religion, and seconded by pressing invitations from Germany,
had their full weight with a prince who was naturally the more jealous
of his royal prerogative the more it was questioned, who was flattered
by the glory he hoped to gain as Protector of the Oppressed, and
passionately loved war as the element of his genius.
But the strongest pledge for the success of his undertaking Gustavus
found in himself. Prudence demanded that he should embrace all the
foreign assistance he could, in order to guard his enterprise from the
imputation of rashness; but all his confidence and courage were entirely
derived from himself. He was indisputably the greatest general of his
age, and the bravest soldier in the army which he had formed. Familiar
with the tactics of Greece and Rome, he had discovered a more effective
system of warfare, which was adopted as a model by the most eminent
commanders of subsequent times. He reduced the unwieldly squadrons of
cavalry, and rendered their movements more light and rapid; and, with
the same view, he widened the intervals between his battalions. Instead
of the usual array in a single line, he disposed his forces in two
lines, that the second might advance in the event of the first giving
way.
He made up for his want of cavalry, by placing infantry among the horse;
a practice which frequently decided the victory. Europe first learned
from him the importance of infantry. All Germany was astonished at the
strict discipline which, at the first, so creditably distinguished the
Swedish army within their territories; all disorders were punished with
the utmost severity--particularly impiety, theft, gambling, and
duelling. The Swedish articles of war enforced frugality. In the camp,
the king’s tent not excepted, neither silver nor gold was to be seen.
The general’s eye looked as vigilantly to the morals as to the martial
bravery of his soldiers; every regiment was ordered to form round its
chaplain for morning and evening prayers. In all these points the
lawgiver was also an example. A sincere and ardent piety exalted his
courage. Equally free from the coarse infidelity which leaves the
passions of the barbarian without control; and from the grovelling
superstition of Ferdinand, who humbled himself to the dust before the
Supreme Being, while he haughtily trampled on his fellow creature--in
the height of his success he was ever a man and a Christian; in the
height of his devotion a king and a hero.
The hardships of war he shared with the meanest soldier in his army;
maintained a calm serenity amid the hottest fury of battle; his glance
was omnipresent, and he intrepidly forgot the danger while he exposed
himself to the greatest peril. His natural courage, indeed, too often
made him forget the duty of a general; and the life of a king ended in
the death of a common soldier. But such a leader was followed to victory
alike by the coward and the brave, and his eagle glance marked every
heroic deed which his example had inspired. The fame of their sovereign
excited in the nation an enthusiastic sense of their own importance;
proud of their king, the peasant in Finland and Gothland joyfully
contributed his pittance; the soldier willingly shed his blood; and the
lofty energy which his single mind had imparted to the nation long
survived its creator.
If Gustavus Adolphus owed his successes chiefly to his own genius, at
the same time, it must be owned, he was greatly favored by fortune and
by circumstance. Two great advantages gave him a decided superiority
over the enemy. While he removed the scene of war into the lands of the
League, drew their youths as recruits, enriched himself with booty, and
used the revenue of their fugitive princes as his own, he at once took
from the enemy the means of effectual resistance, and maintained an
expensive war with little cost to himself. And, moreover, while his
opponents, the princes of the League, divided among themselves, and
governed by different and conflicting interests, acted without
unanimity, and therefore without energy; while the generals were
deficient in authority, their troops in obedience, the operations of
their scattered armies without concert; while the general was separated
from the lawgiver and the statesman; these several functions were united
in Gustavus Adolphus, the only source from which authority flowed, the
sole object to which the eye of the warrior turned; the soul of his
party, the inventor as well as the executor of his plans. In him,
therefore, the Protestants had a center of unity and harmony, which was
altogether wanting to their opponents. No wonder, then, if favored by
such advantages, at the head of such an army, with such a genius to
direct it, and guided by such political prudence, Gustavus Adolphus was
irresistible.
With the sword in one hand, and mercy in the other, he traversed Germany
as a conqueror, a lawgiver, and a judge, in as short a time almost as
the tourist of pleasure. The keys of towers and fortresses were
delivered to him, as if to a native sovereign. No fortress was
inaccessible; no river checked his victorious career. He conquered by
the very terror of his name.
History, too often confined to the ungrateful task of analyzing the
uniform play of human passions, is occasionally rewarded by the
appearance of events which strike like a hand from heaven into the
nicely adjusted machinery of human plans, and carry the contemplative
mind to a higher order of things. Of this kind, is the sudden retirement
of Gustavus Adolphus from the scene; stopping for a time the whole
movement of the political machine, and disappointing all the
calculations of human prudence. Yesterday, the very soul, the great and
animating principle of his own creation; to-day struck unpitiably to the
ground in the very midst of his eagle flight; untimely torn from a whole
world of great designs, and from the ripening harvest of his
expectations, he left his bereaved party disconsolate; and the proud
edifice of his past greatness sank into ruins. The Protestant party had
identified its hopes with its invincible leader, and scarcely can it now
separate them from him; with him, they now fear all good fortune is
buried. But it was no longer the benefactor of Germany who fell at
Lutzen; the beneficent part of his career, Gustavus Adolphus had already
terminated; and now the greatest service which he could render to the
liberties of Germany was--to die.
The ambition of the Swedish monarch aspired unquestionably to establish
a power within Germany, and to attain a firm footing in the center of
the empire, which was inconsistent with the liberties of the Estates.
His aim was the imperial crown; and this dignity, supported by his
power, and maintained by his energy and activity, would in his hands be
liable to more abuse than had ever been feared from the House of
Austria. Born in a foreign country, educated in the maxims of arbitrary
power, and by principles and enthusiasm a determined enemy to popery, he
was ill qualified to maintain inviolate the constitution of the German
States, or to respect their liberties. The coercive homage which
Augsburg, with many other cities, was forced to pay to the Swedish
crown, bespoke the conqueror, rather than the protector of the empire;
and this town, prouder of the title of a royal city than of the higher
dignity of the freedom of the empire, flattered itself with the
anticipation of becoming the capital of his future kingdom.
His ill-disguised attempts upon the Electorate of Mentz, which he first
intended to bestow upon the Elector of Brandenburg, as the dower of his
daughter Christina, and afterward destined for his chancellor and friend
Oxenstiern, evinced plainly what liberties he was disposed to take with
the constitution of the empire. His allies, the Protestant princes, had
claims on his gratitude, which could be satisfied only at the expense of
their Roman Catholic neighbors, and particularly of the immediate
Ecclesiastical Chapters; and it seems probable a plan was early formed
for dividing the conquered provinces (after the precedent of the
barbarian hordes who overran the German empire) as a common spoil, among
the German and Swedish confederates. In his treatment of the Elector
Palatine, he entirely belied the magnanimity of the hero, and forgot the
sacred character of a protector. The Palatinate was in his hands, and
the obligations both of justice and honor demanded its full and
immediate restoration to the legitimate sovereign. But, by a subtlety
unworthy of a great mind, and disgraceful to the honorable title of
protector of the oppressed, he eluded that obligation. He treated the
Palatinate as a conquest wrested from the enemy, and thought that this
circumstance gave him a right to deal with it as he pleased. He
surrendered it to the Elector as a favor, not as a debt; and that, too,
as a Swedish fief, fettered by conditions which diminished half its
value, and degraded this unfortunate prince into a humble vassal of
Sweden. One of these conditions obliged the Elector, after the
conclusion of the war, to furnish, along with the other princes, his
contribution toward the maintenance of the Swedish army--a condition
which plainly indicates the fate which, in the event of the ultimate
success of the king, awaited Germany. His sudden disappearance secured
the liberties of Germany, and saved his reputation, while it probably
spared him the mortification of seeing his own allies in arms against
him, and all the fruits of his victories torn from him by a
disadvantageous peace.
EARL OF STRAFFORD.
BY DAVID HUME.
[Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, born 1593, executed 1641. At
first a leading member of the opposition to Charles I in
Parliament, he afterward joined the court party and became
successively Viscount Wentworth and Earl of Strafford. As governor
of Ireland, he organized the first standing army in English annals;
and afterward formulated the policy of “Thorough”--an executive
system which would have made Charles an absolute monarch, free of
parliamentary or other shackles. His remarkable political genius
inspired such dread that Parliament looked on his death as
essential to their cause. He was impeached as a traitor, an
indictment undoubtedly true, but which could not be legally proved.
He was finally condemned by a bill of attainder. The worst blot on
Charles I is that he should have yielded up Strafford to his foes
with hardly a struggle. Though traitor to his country, he was the
most loyal and devoted of servants to his king. Hume’s estimate of
Strafford is more lenient than that of other historians.]
In the former situation of the English Government, when the sovereign
was in a great measure independent of his subjects, the king chose his
ministers either from personal favor, or from an opinion of their
abilities, without any regard to their parliamentary interest or
talents. It has since been the maxim of princes, wherever popular
leaders encroach too much on royal authority, to confer offices on them,
in expectation that they will afterward become more careful not to
diminish that power which has become their own. These politics were now
embraced by Charles; a sure proof that a secret revolution had happened
in the constitution, and had necessitated the prince to adopt new maxims
of government. But the views of the king were at this time so repugnant
to those of the Puritans that the leaders whom he gained lost from that
moment all interest with their party, and were even pursued as traitors
with implacable hatred and resentment.