LECTURE IV.GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.
Thedifference between ancient and modern war is marked, but each is consistent with its conditions. In ancient days the armies of the civilized nations were, as a rule, not large. They could generally find sustenance wherever they moved, and were obliged to carry but a few days’ victuals with them. Their arms were such as not only to remain long fit for service, but they were capable of repair upon the spot. Neither trains to carry provision and munitions of war were essential, nor were fortified magazines for storing such material indispensable. The communications of an army had not to be so zealously guarded, for it could live and fight even if cut off from its base. On the other hand, battle was of the utmost importance, and the average campaign was but a march toward the enemy, a fight in parallel order and a victory. A battle, owing to the short reach of missiles, was of necessity a more or less hand-to-hand affair. First, the light troops, archers and slingers, advanced like our skirmishers, and opened the fighting. They were then withdrawn and the lines of heavy foot advanced to within javelin-throwing distance. Here they stood and cast their weapons, withwhich the light troops kept them supplied. At intervals groups from the lines closed and the sword was used, or the heavy thrusting pike. Meanwhile the cavalry, always on the extreme wings, charged the enemy’s, and if it could defeat it, wheeled in on the flanks of the infantry, and this was apt to decide the day.
Once engaged, an army could not be withdrawn, as ours can be, under cover of artillery, whose effective use from a distance over the heads of the troops will retard or prevent the enemy’s pursuit. Battles joined had to be fought out to the end. Thus victory to one was wont to be annihilation to the other. From these simple conditions it resulted that the art of war among the ancients was confined to tactical values, or the evolutions of the battle-field, and to fortification and sieges. The ancient military writings cover no other ground. There was little conception of what we call strategy,—the art of so moving armies over the surface of a country, that as great damage may be done to the enemy as by battle, or at least that the enemy may be so compromised as that a victory over him shall be a decisive one. Strategy among the ancients was mere stratagem,—except in the case of the great captains, whose genius made them instinctively great strategists,—for strategy is the highest grade of intellectual common sense. But the reasons for their strategic movements were not understood by the rest of the world, as we to-day can understand them. Others could not make sound strategic manœuvres, and saw good in naught but battle.
From the time of Cæsar, there was a gradual decline in the conduct of war, which he had so highly illustrated, andthere is little, from his age to the invention of gunpowder, which has any bearing of value on the art to-day. There were great generals, there were victories which changed the destinies of the world, but there was no method in war. For many centuries there was scarcely such a thing as an art of war. One might say that matters had reverted to the old lack of system antedating Alexander.
After the discovery of gunpowder, however, there was a gradual revival of scientific, or more properly methodical war, to which Gustavus Adolphus gave the first intellectual impulse. The conditions of warfare became completely changed by this great invention in ballistics. Fire-arms soon got into the hands of both infantry and cavalry. Artillery took on importance and effectiveness. Armies became numerically stronger, depots for the needful materials were established in their rear, and the troops were supplied from these depots. This gave great importance to fortifying cities and to fortresses, in which lay the provision and war material; and as rations, ammunition, and stores had to be constantly brought from these depots to the front,—to maintain the communications of the armies with these strong places became a matter of primary importance. For the loss of a great fortress containing the army’s bread and powder and ball might have as grave consequences as the loss of a battle,—even graver.
Armies, thus handicapped with heavier trains and with artillery-parks, had less mobility, and were less fitted for pursuit than the old troops, which could carry all they needed with them. Victories were not followed up. Battles became less decisive, and dropped into disuse.Strategy had not yet grown to be the science to which Gustavus Adolphus, Frederick, and Napoleon elevated it, and generals had not learned so to manœuvre as to make battles decisive when won. Modern war, up to the days of Gustavus, was clumsy and lacking in general scheme. It was rescued from this condition by the Swedish king.
In antiquity, battle was the head and front of all things, and armies 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 lightwas 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, towhich 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 oftwenty-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 andpeople, 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 coolcalculation 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 theweak 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 andensembleto 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 affordefficient 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. ButGustavus 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 hadconceived 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.
CAMPAIGN OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS IN GERMANY, 1630–1–2
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 commanderwas,—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 inaplomband 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.
The advisers of Gustavus strongly urged an advance on Austria, believing that such a course would bring Ferdinand to terms. But so far Gustavus’ successes had come from a systematic plan of campaign which embraced the whole of Germany in its scope. He had secured each step and had risked nothing unnecessarily. He saw the chances pointed out, but he also saw that if he advanced south, his right rear would be threatened by Tilly, who had, after his defeat, retired toward the Rhenish provinces and there made a new base. The king preferred his own plan of first gaining a firm footing in western Germany. He held interior lines and saw that he could operate against his enemies in detail. To complete his plan would secure him from the lower Elbe to the middle and upper Rhine, and he could then turn against Bavaria and Austria from the west, as his advisers would now have him do from the north, and with distinctly better effect. Meanwhile the Saxons could operate towards Silesia and Bohemia to secure Gustavus’ left in his advance, and Hesse Casselcould hold head against Tilly on Gustavus’ right. The scheme was wise and far-sighted, took into calculation all the political and military elements of the situation, and was based on broad, sound judgment. For seventeen hundred years, no one had looked at war with so large an intelligence.
It may be said that war is a game of risks. But to play a gambler’s game was not Gustavus’forte. When the occasion demanded, he could disregard every danger. What he has taught us is method, not temerity. His mission was to abolish the Quixotism of his day.
The Saxon Elector, with a mixed army over twenty thousand strong, accordingly marched into Bohemia and Silesia (Oct., 1631) and pushed the Imperialists back from Prague on Tabor. Everything promised success. But all at once the Elector appeared to lose heart, arrested his advance, and opened negotiations with the Emperor, who, seeing that threats had not succeeded, had tried conciliation. This part of the operation was nullified.
Gustavus moved to Würzburg. Franconia joined the Protestant cause as Thuringia had already done. Tilly, having recovered from his late defeat, and his present position being no threat to Gustavus, marched southerly. With allies he collected over fifty thousand men and proposed to seek battle. But the Elector of Bavaria, fearful for his territory, kept Tilly on the defensive.
Gustavus was now firmly established on the Main, and in Thuringia and Franconia, and he presently moved down the river to fully secure the Rhineland, leaving a sufficient force opposite Tilly in Franconia. His men marchedalong both banks with the baggage on boats. He crossed the Rhine, took Mainz and transformed it into an allied fortress.
Germany was metamorphosed. The allies had one hundred and fifty thousand men in the field. Recruiting was lively. All Protestants were united in sentiment, purpose, and efforts. France was helpful in keeping the Catholic princes along the Rhine in a condition of neutrality, while Gustavus lay in a central position between the Emperor and these same princes. Bavaria was an uncertain element. The Emperor had a total of but eighty thousand men, and of these the bulk were protecting the Danube instead of carrying desolation into the Protestant territory.
Gustavus now concentrated on the middle Main to the number of forty-five thousand men and marched on Nürnberg, where he was received with enthusiasm. Tilly crossed the Danube and took up a position over against Rain, behind the Lech, with forty thousand effective. From Nürnberg Gustavus marched to Donauwörth, also crossed the Danube and sent out a detachment to take Ulm.
The king was daring at the proper time. His whole campaign so far had been cautious and systematic, neglecting no point in his general scheme. He was now face to face with the army he had driven from northern and western Germany, and was ready for battle. He could not draw Tilly from his entrenched camp; and he determined to impose on him by boldly crossing the river in his front and attacking it,—then simply an unheard-of proceeding. He believed that the moral advantage to be gained by astroke of audacity would more than compensate for the danger, and danger was to Gustavus an incentive. He erected a battery of seventy-two guns on the left bank of the Lech, opposite Rain, and under cover of its fire set over a portion of the troops in boats, built in two days a bridge and a bridge-head, led over the infantry, and sent the cavalry up stream to ford the river above the enemy’s position (April, 1632).
Tilly and the Elector of Bavaria sought too late to interrupt these fearless proceedings. They issued from their camp with a select body of troops and attacked the Swedes, who were backing on the Lech. But the crossfire of the admirably posted Swedish batteries was severe; the Swedish infantry held its own, and the cavalry rode down upon their flank. In this obstinate combat Tilly was mortally wounded. His second in command suffered a like fate. The Imperial troops lost heart and took refuge within their breastworks. Oncoming darkness forestalled pursuit. But Gustavus had gained his object. The Imperial army had lostmoraleand organization, and his own had gained in abundant measure. This is the first instance of forcing the passage of a wide and rapid river in the teeth of the enemy.
The Elector retired to Ratisbon. The Swedes took possession of many towns in Bavaria, including Munich. But the country population was so hostile that a permanent occupation seemed a waste of energy; Gustavus retired to Ingolstadt.
A disturbing element now arose in a curious suspicion of the ulterior motives of Gustavus. Both Protestantsand Catholics—Germans alike—began to fear that the king might be tempted by his successes to make himself autocrat of Germany. This feeling soon begot a half-heartedness among the king’s supporters. Richelieu feared that Gustavus, instead of Ferdinand, was reaching a point which might make him dangerous to France. The Emperor, meanwhile, went back to Wallenstein, who had been so successful before his deposition from command. Wallenstein made hard terms, but he was a power which could no longer be disregarded. Ferdinand, to gain his aid, gave him uncontrolled authority over the army he should raise and all its operations.
Wallenstein began recruiting. He soon had forty thousand men. The Catholics grew braver when the reconciliation of Wallenstein and the Emperor became known. This, added to the suspicions of the allies, constrained Gustavus to cease his successful offensive for a cautious holding of what he already had.
Wallenstein marched into Bohemia, the Saxons offering no resistance, and took Prague. He then moved to Bavaria and joined the Elector. Seeing that Wallenstein by this manœuvre had gained a position from which he might endanger his communications with northern Germany, Gustavus marched summarily on Nürnberg, which was the “cross-roads” of that section of the country, to head Wallenstein off from Saxony, and ordered his outlying detachments to concentrate there. He had under his immediate command but one-third of Wallenstein’s total, and could not assume the offensive. But he would not abandon southern Germany until driven from it. Heentrenched a camp near the town. Despite superior numbers, Wallenstein did not attack. He could not rise above the prejudice of the day. He deemed hunger a more efficient ally than assault. He sat down before Nürnberg (July, 1632). The small-war indulged in generally ran in favor of the king, who patiently awaited reënforcements, having provided two months’ provisions for his army and the town. Oxenstiern meanwhile collected thirty-eight thousand men and advanced to the aid of his chief. Gustavus marched out to meet him. Wallenstein did not interfere. The king was prepared for battle should he do so. It was a grave military error that Wallenstein took no means to prevent this junction.
Soon after Gustavus had received his reënforcements, he determined to bring Wallenstein to battle, for famine had begun to make inroads in Nürnberg and in both camps. He accordingly marched out and drew up in the enemy’s front, but Wallenstein could not be induced to leave his entrenchments (Aug., 1632). Failing in this, the king at last resorted to an assault on the Imperial fortifications. But after a gallant struggle he was driven back with a loss of two thousand men. He has been blamed for this assault. He deserves rather the highest praise for his effort to show the world that gallantry and enterprise are among the best characteristics of war. After him, Frederick proved that good troops can more often take entrenchments than fail. His grenadiers were accustomed to assault works held by two to one of their own number,—and take them, too, under the king’s stern eye.
After ten weeks of this futile struggle, and much loss onboth sides, Gustavus, fairly starved out by want of rations and of battle, determined to regain his communications with northern Germany. He left five thousand men in Nürnberg, and marching past Wallenstein’s camp unchallenged, moved to Würzburg. He had but twenty-four thousand men left. Wallenstein, who again neglected an admirable chance of falling on Gustavus’ flank, soon after marched to Bamberg with the relics of his army, reduced to about the same number (Sept., 1632).
Learning that Wallenstein had left Nürnberg, Gustavus, in the belief that his opponent would seek repose for a period, marched back to the Danube to resume the thread of his own work. The Nürnberg incident had interrupted, not discontinued his general plan. Wallenstein, as he had anticipated, sat quietly in Bamberg. He had shown singular disinclination to come to blows with the king, and exhibited far less activity, though, in truth, Wallenstein was both a distinguished and able soldier.
On other fields the Swedes and allies were generally successful, but finally thirty thousand Imperialists concentrated in Saxony, and Wallenstein joined them and took Leipsic. Gustavus (Sept., 1632) feared for his Saxon alliance, without which he could scarcely maintain himself. He again put off the prosecution of his general scheme, to go where lay the most imminent danger. Oxenstiern again advised a summary march on Vienna, but Gustavus wisely rejected the advice. At that day Vienna had not its importance of 1805. The king left a suitable force in Bavaria (Oct., 1632), marched northward and entrenched a camp at Naumberg. Wallenstein turned tomeet him. His evident duty was to concentrate and attack. But, according to the idea of that day, he parcelled out his army in detachments, sending Pappenheim to Halle while he marched to Merseburg. The Imperial general had blundered into a cardinal position in the midst of the allies. The Swedes, twenty-seven thousand strong, were at Naumberg, the Saxons, with eighteen thousand, at Torgau, and ten thousand allies were marching up the left bank of the Elbe. Wallenstein’s manifest operation was to fall on each of these forces singly—on Gustavus first, as the strongest. But he appeared to lose both head and heart when facing Gustavus. He grew weaker as Gustavus grew more bold. He made no use of his advantage, even if he comprehended it.
The king had got possession of the crossing of the Saale, but Wallenstein stood between him and the Saxons. Gustavus’ generals advised a manœuvre to join these allies, but the king was instinct with mettle, and determined upon action.
The ensuing battle of Lützen has little which is remarkable, beyond the fiery ardor which ended in the death of Gustavus Adolphus. It was a battle in simple parallel order, but the better discipline of the Swedish army and the greater mobility of its organization showed as marked superiority over Wallenstein’s masses as the Roman legion, for the same reason, had shown over the Macedonian phalanx eighteen centuries before. The Swedes won the victory, but they lost their king, and Germany its protector and champion.
As is the case with all great captains, Gustavus Adolphusgave the impulse to every action while on the theatre of operations of the Thirty Years’ War. For many centuries war had been conducted without that art and purpose which Alexander, Hannibal, and Cæsar so markedly exhibited. But in the operations of the Swedish king we again find the hand of the master. We recognize the same method which has excited our admiration in the annals of the noted campaigns of antiquity, and from now on we shall see generals who intelligently carry forward what Gustavus Adolphus rescued from the oblivion of the Middle Ages.
The operations of the king, from his appearance in Germany, showed his exceptional genius for war. He had no military guide, except his study of the deeds of the ancients, for modern war up to his day had altogether lacked depth and directness. During the first fourteen months, he secured his foothold in the northern coast provinces, in a most clear-witted and orderly manner. Every circumstance was against him. He had weak forces to oppose to the Emperor’s might. The half-hearted, fear-ridden Protestants yielded him little aid and comfort; yet he reached his goal, step by step, seizing and holding strong places at key points, and accumulating supplies where he could count on their safety. But once, during his entire German campaign,—at Nürnberg,—was he out of rations, and this without ravaging the country. He carefully secured his communications with the base he had established and with Sweden, and never manœuvred so as to lose them. He gradually strengthened himself with allies and recruits. Unlike the armiesof the day, who behaved as if the populations of the countries they traversed were of less consequence than the beasts of the field, Gustavus dealt with them in a spirit of kindliness and Christian charity which won them over to his side. He kept his troops under strict discipline, and by supplying all their wants and paying them regularly, could rightfully prohibit marauding and plunder. He understood how to avoid battle with an enemy too strong to beat, how to lead him astray on the strategic field, how to manœuvre energetically against an enemy, his equal or inferior in strength; how to make the tactical mobility of his troops and his own ardor on the battle-field tell; how to improve victory; and how to heighten and maintain the morale of his troops under victory and defeat alike.
When, by his cautious and intelligent plan, the king stood firmly planted between the sea, the Oder, and the Elbe, with flanks and rear well guarded, he at once altered his conduct. He crossed the Elbe and boldly attacked the enemy, adding to his strength by beating him; and, leaving the allies to protect his flanks and communications, he advanced with spirit and energy. In thirty days he had established himself firmly on the Main; in little over four months more he had moved down the Main, and had possessed himself of or neutralized the whole middle Rhine; and in twelve weeks thence had crossed the Danube, beaten the enemy at the Lech, and occupied almost all Bavaria. Thus in less than nine months (Sept., 1631 to June, 1632) he had overrun a much larger territory than he had previously gained in fourteen, and had added vastly to his standing. He had been bold and decisive,and yet never lacking in the method and caution which were his guide. He had established himself as firmly in southern Germany as previously in northern.
At the height of his reputation and success, he was now ready to attack Austria from the west. But the policy of France changed, his allies became suspicious, and Wallenstein moved toward his rear. The scene changed. Gustavus had no longer the security of whole-hearted allies to connect him with Sweden, and his policy at once shifted to the cautious one he had first shown. The thing for him to consider, if he was to be thrown on his own resources, was first and foremost his communications. With forces inferior to Wallenstein’s, he acted on the defensive. With the accessions which made his army equal to Wallenstein’s, he again went over to an offensive at that day startling in its audacity. This failing, and provision having given out, he moved, not to Bavaria, but to the Main, to protect his line of retreat, which naturally traversed Hesse Cassel. So soon as Wallenstein retired to Bamberg, Gustavus, leaving a lieutenant to observe him, felt at liberty to take up his old thread in Bavaria. He had gauged his opponent aright. When again Wallenstein, by his Saxon affiliations, threatened, and this time more seriously, the king’s allies, and remotely the security of his advanced position, Gustavus again resorted to decisive operations. His march to Saxony and his attack on the enemy at Lützen were equally bold, rapid, and skilful.
Herein is a peculiarly intelligent adaptation of work to existing conditions. From the king’s landing to the passage of the Elbe, while securing his base, a cautious, butby no means indecisive policy; from crossing the Elbe to Nürnberg, while moving upon the enemy, a singular quickness and boldness, but by no means lacking in intelligent and methodical caution; from Nürnberg to Lützen an alternation from caution to boldness as circumstances warranted. After Cæsar’s day, Gustavus was the first who firmly and intelligently carried through a campaign on one well considered, fully digested, broad, and intelligent plan, and swerved therefrom only momentarily and partially to meet exigencies which could not be foreseen. The advice of his most trusted aides was often opposed to what he did; but they could not see as far as he saw. Each variation had its definite object, which attained, the general plan was at once resumed. There was an entire freedom from blind subservience to the rules of war as then laid down; an intelligent sequence and inter-dependence of movement on a plan elastic enough to meet unexpected obstacles; these produced a perfectly systematic whole, in which the unity of plan was never disturbed; and with this broad scheme went hand in hand a careful execution of detail upon which depended the success of the whole. His occupation remained firm; his victualling was sufficient to his needs; his movements accomplished what he sought.
In pursuance of his cautious plan he neglected no essential fortress or city; he held the passages of important rivers by erecting bridge-heads or occupying towns; he kept upon his line of operations suitable detachments, or met descents upon it by a prompt movement towards the enemy. He so managed the division of his forces as not to endanger his strength nor to lose the ability to concentrate.He used his allies for the work they could best perform. He kept the main offensive in his own hands, generally so ordering that his lieutenants should act on the defensive, unless they outnumbered the enemy, and then made them push with vigor. He uniformly did the right thing at the right moment.
The secret of Gustavus’ success lay in his breadth of plan, in his constancy to the work cut out, and in his properly adapting boldness or caution to the existing circumstances. As with Alexander, Hannibal, and Cæsar, it was the man himself whose soul illumined his work; and this man had those transcendent qualities which produce incomparable results in war, whenever they coexist with great events. Equal as monarch and soldier, he united in his one person the art of both. His nation and army were devoted to him soul and body. His motives were the highest and purest which have ever inspired a great captain; his pursuit of them was steadfast and noble, open-handed and above-board, prudent and intrepid. In weighing his intelligence, sound judgment, strong will, elevated sentiment, energy and vigilance, he is properly put in the highest rank. But though his record cannot perhaps vie with the others in the brilliancy of his tactics, in the splendor of his victories, in extent of conquest, in immensity of ambition, in the surmounting of all but impossible natural or artificial barriers, in resisting overwhelming disaster with heroic constancy,—still, if we look at the man, upon the results of what he did, at the purposeless and barbarous nature of war as conducted up to his day; if we weigh the influence of his short campaigns upon allmodern war, and consider how his nobility of character and his life-work has made toward civilization, we cannot rate Gustavus Adolphus too high. His pointing out the importance of key-points in holding a country; the value of feeding an army by careful accumulation of supplies, instead of by ravaging every territory it enters; the advantage of a carefully drawn plan extending over the entire theatre of operations; and the propriety of waging war in a more Christian and civilized spirit,—marks the first step towards the modern system. Gustavus Adolphus must be called the father of the modern art of war; and is acknowledged as the one of all others who re-created systematic, intellectual war, and stripped war of its worst horrors.
After his death, his lieutenants tried fruitlessly to carry on his methods. They retained a part of what he gave them; in many things they slid back into the old ruts; and war (except with masters like Turenne, Prince Eugene, and Marlborough) resumed its character of isolated raids, until Frederick once more elevated it and stamped upon it a permanence which it cannot now lose.
Among his enemies, during the remainder of the Thirty Years’ War there was nothing but the extremity of barbarous methods, over which it is well to draw a veil.
Gustavus Adolphus was tall, handsome, and strong. In his later years he grew so heavy that none but well-bred horses of great bone and endurance could carry him. But he rode fast and far. His bearing was noble, full of simple complaisance, and genuine. His quick mind robbed work of effort; his ideas were clear, and he expressed them crisply and in happy words; his voice was rich, hismanner convincing. A remarkable memory served to retain the names and merits of his subordinate officers and numberless worthy men. He maintained stern discipline in a just and kindly spirit. His religious fervor was as honest as his courage was high-pitched. The Bible was his constant companion and guide. He began all his acts with unaffected prayer, and ended with thanksgiving. The Christian virtues never resided in a more princely soul. He was sober, of simple habit, and upright life. Towering over all around him in mind and heart, and inflexible withal, he was yet modest and ready to weigh the opinions of others. A tireless worker, he demanded equal exertion from his officials and aides. But in his intercourse with all men were kingly condescension and dignity joined. He was more than monarch,—he was a man.
What has Gustavus Adolphus done for the art of war? In a tactical sense, many things. Before him, not a few noted generals had introduced improvements naturally growing out of the introduction of gunpowder. Gustavus made various changes towards greater mobility. The cumbrous armies of the day were marshalled in battalia, which were huge, dense squares or phalanxes of deep files of musketeers and pikemen mixed, awkward and unwieldy. The recruiting of the day assembled many men of many minds, and the three arms worked at cross-purposes. Gustavus began by reducing the pikemen to one-third the entire infantry, and later (1631) formed whole regiments of musketeers alone. He lightened the musket, did away with the crutch-rest, till then used in firing, introduced wheel-locks, paper cartridges, and cartridge-boxes. Hetaught his men a much quicker manual of aims. The times and motions of loading and firing had been some one hundred and sixty; Gustavus reduced them to ninety-five, which sounds absurdly slow to us to-day. But his men none the less vastly exceeded the enemy in rapidity of fire. He lightened the guns of his artillery, and made the drill of other arms conform to its manœuvres, so that his whole army worked with one purpose. His batteries became active and efficient. In the Thirty Years’ War he generally had a preponderance of artillery over the Imperialists.
To secure better fire, Gustavus reduced his musketeers to six ranks, which to fire closed into three. This it was which principally gave it so much greater nimbleness of foot. The troops were well armed and equipped, and uniformed for the first time. Few wagons were allowed per regiment, and effectual discipline prevailed. Severe regulations were enforced. The behavior of the Swedish troops was the marked reverse of that of Wallenstein’s and Tilly’s forces. Service and seniority alone secured promotion; nepotism was unknown. The force Gustavus created was the first truly national regular army.
So much for discipline and tactics, which, in themselves, are of minor value. But what has given Gustavus Adolphus unfading reputation as a captain is the conduct, for the first time in the Christian era, of a campaign in which the intellectual conception overrides the able, consistent, and at times brilliant execution. From a mere contest of animal courage he had raised war at one step to what it really should be, a contest in which mind and characterwin, and not brute force. Little wonder that Gustavus, landing at Rügen to attack the colossal power of the German Empire with his 15,000 men, should have excited the laughter of his enemies, and have provoked Wallenstein to exclaim that he would drive him back to his snow-clad kingdom with switches. It appeared like Don Quixote riding at the windmills. But his action was in truth founded on as substantial a calculation as Hannibal’s march into Italy, and was crowned with abundant results. The method of his work could not but win. And Gustavus did one thing more. He showed the world that war could be conducted within the bounds of Christian teachings; that arson, murder, rapine, were not necessary concomitants of able or successful war; that there was no call to add to the unavoidable suffering engendered of any armed strife, by inflicting upon innocent populations that which should be borne by the armies alone. In both these things he was first and preëminent, and to him belongs unqualifiedly the credit of proving to the modern world that war is an intellectual art; and the still greater credit of humanizing its conduct.