And he had raised in the camp a new tone of moral feeling.  Not even Cromwell equalled him in divesting war of its customary atrocities, and keeping alive the spirit of religion.  The worship of God formed one of the most important duties of the Swedish army wherever located.  “Twice every day the roll of the drum assembled the soldiers to prayer.  The usual vices of soldiers, like profanity and drunkenness and gambling, were uniformly punished.  Death was inflicted on any soldier who assaulted a citizen in his house.  Even a certificate was required of the chief citizens of any place where troops were quartered, that their conduct had been orderly.  He never allowed, under any provocation, a city to be taken by assault,—­a striking contrast to the imperial generals.”

Nor amid the toils and dangers of war was Gustavus unmindful of his duties as a king.  He was one of the most enlightened statesmen that had appeared since Charlemagne and Alfred.  He established schools and colleges, founded libraries, reformed the codes of law, introduced wise mercantile regulations, rewarded eminent merit, respected the voice of experience, and developed the industries of the country.  What Richelieu and Colbert did for France, what Burleigh and Cromwell did for England, Gustavus did for Sweden.  His prime minister is illustrious for wisdom and ability, the celebrated Oxenstiern, through whose labors and genius the country felt no impoverishment from war.  He laid the foundation of that prosperity which made a little kingdom great.

But all his excellences as a general, a statesman, and a ruler paled before the exalted virtues of his private life.  His urbanity, his gentleness, his modesty, his meekness, his simplicity, and his love won all hearts, and have never been exceeded except by Alfred the Great.  He was a Saint Louis on a throne, in marked contrast with the suspicion, duplicity, roughness, and egotism of Oliver Cromwell,—­the only other great man of the century who equalled Gustavus in the value of public services and enlightened mind.  It is not often that Christian graces and virtues are developed amid the tumults of war.  David lost nothing of his pious fervor and reliance on God when pursuing the Philistines, nor Marcus Aurelius when fighting barbarians on the frozen Danube.  The perils and vicissitudes of war, with the momentous interests involved, made Lincoln shine, amid all his jokes, a firm believer in the overruling power that Napoleon failed to see.  And so of Washington:  he was a better man and firmer Christian from the responsibilities that were thrust upon him.  Not so with Frederic the Great, and the marshals of Louis XIV., with the exception of Turenne:  war seemed rather to develop their worst qualities.  It usually makes a man unscrupulous, hard, and arrogant.  Military life is anything but interesting in the usual bearing of Prussian officers.  In our own Revolutionary war, generals developed pride and avarice and jealousy.