Abstract: Some assassinations occur after death. Charles XII, the last warrior king of Sweden, has been castigated by nearly all historical scholarship as an exceptionally wicked blend of humanity’s worst vices. He has been blamed almost universally for the fall of the once vibrant Swedish Empire and the suffering of the Swedish people in endless wars. However, there is substantial evidence that though he was unable to save the Swedish Empire, his actions reflected a keen strategic vision and a dedication to preserving the country his forefathers had built. This paper examines who Charles XII was, his involvement in Sweden’s last great conflict, the Great Northern War, and how he likely understood Swedish grand strategy. In 1707, Charles XII launched an invasion of Russia that ended in disaster, sealing the fate of the doomed Swedish Empire. This earned him the eternal scorn of historians who have interpreted this move as an act of blind aggression that sacrificed the Swedish people on the altar to his own hubris. However, this move was likely Charles XII’s best hope for saving the Swedish Empire before it was too late. It is concluded after a thorough examination of Swedish imperial history, Swedish financial structure, and Swedish military operations that Charles XII deserves to be remembered as a skilled strategist, not a calloused megalomaniac. This paper aims to exonerate a young man who has been condemned to a memory of shame despite his giving every pleasure in life, including his final breath, to save his people.

Introduction

Sweden’s Rotten Apple

It is a windy morning on the [Swedish] coast in December 1715. At the center is a cottage, beyond repair; deserted… its foundation imbedded in the drifting sand. The windows are broken; the roofing tiles ripped off; the door is gone… Outside the cottage is a leafless wind-ravaged apple tree with one lone apple, which is being shaken in the wind… To the right of the cottage can be seen the burned remains of a church and several houses. Beyond, the sea lies dark; on the horizon can be seen a pale grey ray of dawn.[1]

History is often painted by an emotional recollection of events rather than by impartial analysis. The final days of the Swedish Empire have thus been painted in historical memory with a pallet of dull greys and cold blues – emblematic of a solemn time when a whole nation was brought to destruction by a single arrogant man who fancied himself as a god. Indeed, such a tale of tragedy serves to illustrate a powerful lesson: that the hubris of tyrannical rulers can lead to abhorrent suffering. The above quotation vividly sets in stone a dreary picture of what Sweden’s last warrior king wrought upon the nation through his ruinous wars: a desolate landscape in which the only sign of life is a single rotten apple at the top of a withered tree. King Charles XII, ruler of Sweden from 1697-1718, is the proverbial rotten apple in the playwright August Strindberg’s tragedy, Charles XII, and this scenery sets the stage for the first act.

Charles XII’s legacy has almost invariably been trapped within this image ever since his death. Moreover, the warning of this bleak memory has fueled the attitude of pacifism that continues to define modern Sweden.[2] But Strindberg’s contrived caricature of the Swedish king in the play as an obstinate madman threatens to obscure the true character of Charles XII. Moreover, the popular insistence upon this depiction has arguably blinded historians to the nuanced challenges that faced the Swedish Empire in its final days. Rather than glean lessons of grand strategy from the Empire’s fall, most popular histories are content to simply scapegoat Charles XII as the sole author of Sweden’s collapse.[3]

The aim of this paper is twofold. First, this paper will seek to exonerate Charles XII from the unjust condemnation that has dominated historical scholarship ever since his death while demonstrating his strategic skill and vision. Second, this paper will present lessons in grand strategy that have so far been overlooked, which can be used to better understand how great powers ultimately succeed and fail. The first section will examine the background of the Swedish Empire, how the Great Northern War brought it to its knees, and how the ideological biases of English, French, and Swedish historians have distorted Charles XII’s legacy. The second section will outline the three “pillars” of Swedish grand strategy that allowed Stockholm to become such a behemoth on the European stage. The third section will examine Charles XII’s decision to invade Russia in 1708. This choice is almost universally condemned as an ultimate act of arrogance and idiocy, but there is a strong case to be made that invading Russia in the winter (long seen as a sign of strategic lunacy) was the best option available to the Swedes in light of the contemporary circumstances. Finally, this paper will conclude that Charles XII should finally be laid to rest as the figure he truly was: a strategically astute young man who was willing to renounce all worldly pleasure and give his last breath for the preservation of the Swedish people.

A Teenage Lion Fights the Great Northern War

At the outset of the 1700s, the entire European continent was engulfed in war. Winston Churchill would later describe just half of the total bloodshed as the first true “world war.”[4] Specifically, two wars raged simultaneously yet separately, both beginning in 1700: The War of the Spanish Succession and the Great Northern War (Figure 1). The War of the Spanish Succession included England, France, Portugal, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Austria-Hungary, and Germany (then known as the Holy Roman Empire). The Great Northern War included the Swedish Empire, Denmark-Norway, Russia, proto-Ukraine, and Poland-Lithuania. While Western Europe fought over who would sit upon the Spanish throne, Northern Europe fought for control over lands surrounding the Baltic Sea. With Europe rent into two major conflict blocs, a dark fear lurking in the mind of most powers was the prospect of the two wars combining into a single continental conflagration, which would have easily qualified as a “world war.”

Naturally, Sweden’s fate was decided in the Great Northern War. Over the course of the preceding century, Sweden had risen out of relative obscurity into a formidable land and naval power. Under the leadership of Charles XII’s ancestor, King Gustavus Adolphus (whose immense impact on Swedish grand strategy will be presently seen), Stockholm was able to seize control over the Baltic coastal provinces of Estonia, Livonia, Ingria, Pomerania, and Bremen-Verden (Figure 2). Together, these territories gave Sweden incredible leverage over the Baltic grain, timber, mining, weapons, and fur trades.[5] However, these gains came at the strategic injury of Russia, Denmark-Norway, and Poland-Lithuania, who respectively had either lost these territories or were threatened by the growth of Swedish power.[6] Moreover, with these acquisitions, the Baltic Sea was turning increasingly into a Swedish lake, allowing Stockholm to dictate terms of trade to its neighbors (particularly to Denmark).[7] After Gustavus Adolphus was killed on campaign in Germany in 1632, the next three monarchs of Sweden were left to manage their newly expanded inheritance, while the neighboring powers struggled to contain it and erode it. Charles XII’s role began when his father, Charles XI, died in 1697. At this time, Charles XII was merely fifteen years old, signaling to his enemies that the time for revenge may be near at hand. In the words of Kling and Lyth,

Sensing an opportunity to pluck some of the Swedish possessions from a young and inexperienced king, the king of Denmark [Fredrick IV], the tsar of Russia [Peter the Great], and the elector of Saxony [Augustus the Strong] (who was also the king of Poland and grand duke of Lithuania), all entered into an alliance to simultaneously attack Sweden… Now the stage was set: the Coalition versus a fat, defenseless goose… perceived to be ripe for the plucking.[8]

To the great surprise of the newly formed triple alliance, their grandiose titles would fail to deter Charles XII, who would come to be known by one painter as “The Lion of the North,” a title previously held by the great Gustavus Adolphus (Figure 3). As a youth, Charles XII split his time between church, school, and the wilderness – all of which took on a martial character. As a devout Lutheran, his father emphasized above all else that his fledgling cub should be educated firstly in the Biblical scriptures.[9] In Swedish martial tradition, the concept of “holy war” was alien to military sermons. According to available records “[i]mportant themes [in military sermons] were consolation, salvation and vocation. There was no war mongering or encouragements to murder and pillage.”[10] The focus of Lutheran theology on vocation likely channeled Charles XII’s ambitions into a conviction that defense of his homeland was his purpose. The severe austerity he embraced throughout his short life – abstention from wine, women, sluggish pleasures, and even common comforts – demonstrates a deep and enduring commitment to fulfill his role as Sweden’s protector.[11] During the war, a British diplomat who recorded the appearance of Charles XII’s personal quarters noted that his “fine gilt Bible by his bedside” was the “only thing that looks fine in his equipage.”[12]

This religious education was accompanied by rigorous study of classical languages and histories, including authors such as Quintus Curius, who recorded the campaigns of Alexander the Great. Charles XII’s tutor was instructed “to make Caesar's campaigns live again as if the boy were taking part in them.”[13] Outside of his studies of war and international relations, Charles XII was keen on recreationally defying death.[14] The royal court and Swedish nobles, knowing that there was no clear heir besides Charles XII, panicked at the boy’s regular hunting trips into the craggy Scandinavian wilds. On these excursions, the new monarch insisted upon hunting bears while armed with only a sharpened stick, saying that firearms were unfair to “so defenceless an animal.”[15]

This was the supposedly weak and passive king from whom the triple alliance expected to pilfer their lost territories. The coordinated three-pronged attack commenced in March of 1700 with Denmark invading Sweden’s satellite ally (Holstein-Gottorp) situated between Bremen-Verden and Pomerania, Russia invading Estonia and Ingria, and Poland-Lithuania invading Livonia (Figure 2).[16] The counterstroke by Charles XII was so swift, decisive, and unexpected that by August, the Danish found themselves suing for peace in order to save their capitol city, Copenhagen. The Russians, having believed the Swedes would be bogged down against Denmark, were blindsided when a report arrived that the Swedish king himself was leading an “innumerable army” up the Baltic coast to meet them.[17] In November, Charles XII met the Russians at the city of Narva in northern Ingria, one of the most important fortresses in the Swedish territories, but not before Tsar Peter was thrown into a panic and fled with his top commander back to Moscow. Taking advantage of a snowstorm blowing into the Russians’ faces, the eighteen-year old monarch set his jaws into the enemy with a mere 8,000 men. In a feat that trumpeted his name across Europe, Charles XII sent the Tsar’s 40,000-man army into a fevered flight back to their homeland.[18] His subsequent assault against the Polish-Lithuanian forces in Livonia ended similarly, and by 1702 he had occupied the Polish capitol of Warsaw.[19] Instead of easily shearing off Sweden’s territories, each power in the triple alliance either found the hungry lion at the gates of their capitol or feeding viciously on the remains of their field armies.

In the following years, the members of the triple alliance intermittently made further attempts to scavenge for Swedish lands, but Charles XII repeatedly mauled their land forces with remarkable consistency. As Winston Churchill noted in his histories of the era, Charles XII’s incredible ability to crush his enemies against all odds seemed to be evidence of a “charmed life.”[20] But this flow of luck met choppy waters in 1704. While Charles XII was busy deposing Augustus the Strong from the Polish-Lithuanian throne and replacing him with a pro-Swedish ruler, Peter the Great had adapted his strategy to include naval forces. Although the Russians held no Baltic port, the Tsar succeeded in transporting his warships from the Arctic port of Archangel to the Baltic Sea by dragging them across nearly 100 miles of frosty hills (Figure 4).[21] the Russians had succeeded in punching through the Neva River in Ingria, which connects Lake Ladoga to the Baltic Sea. This maneuver allowed the Russians to seize Ingria’s strongest fortresses and found the city of St. Petersburg (Figure 5). This was the moment at which the war began pivoting away from Swedish favor. Although Charles XII had successfully turned his Polish-Lithuanian enemy into an ally by placing his friend, Stanislaus Leszczynski, on the throne, securing this new satellite state was essential even as Russia pried into the Baltic. To prevent Augustus from leading a revolt against the new puppet ruler, Charles XII chased his remaining forces to the southern border of the country with the intention of crushing it. Finally, in 1706, Sweden was given its decisive victory that killed off three-quarters of Augustus’ residual army at the battle of Fraudstadt, just barely north of the German border.[22]

At this juncture, the other half of Europe, embroiled in the War of the Spanish Succession, watched anxiously as Charles XII approached Germany. The memory of Gustavus Adolphus’ march into the heart of country decades before was still fresh, and many (particularly the English) believed that the horror of a true continental war would materialize if Sweden once again invaded the German states.[23] The young Swede, now twenty-one, set up his camp in Altranstadt, Saxony; the original home of the belligerent Augustus. Because Saxony was one of the German states in the Holy Roman Empire, Western European powers frantically sent out diplomats to either keep Sweden out of their war or to recruit Charles XII to their respective sides. The resulting flurry of excitement and dread made Altranstadt the focal point of the continent during 1706-1707. Charles XII opted not to intervene in the War of the Spanish Succession, and instead, after securing the humiliation of Augustus, embarked on a quest that would forever condemn his name: he invaded Russia in the winter with the intention of occupying Moscow.

The result was catastrophe. Although his generals advised him to turn northwest to save the territories that Russia was devouring, Charles XII pressed on, and Peter’s “scorched earth” policy devastated the Swedish invaders until they were forced to divert their course – southeast! Charles XII aimed to ally himself with anti-Russian rebels in modern-Ukraine, but when supplies ran low, promises of supplementary troops proved empty, and frostbite gnawed away the Swedes’ feet, strategic planning was replaced by a mad dash to seek out a victory. Charles XII found his battle and his enemy Peter at the city of Poltava in 1709. At Poltava, Charles XII’s luck finally ran dry, and the Swedish army was routed, sending the young king fleeing into the Ottoman Empire, where he stayed for five whole years before returning to Sweden. After Poltava, the emboldened Russians immediately stormed through the Swedish territories taking fortress after fortress. Augustus returned vengefully to the Polish-Lithuanian throne, and Denmark began its raids against the Swedish coastal homelands. Even after Charles XII returned home to lead new campaigns against the triple-alliance, the economic, social, and strategic damage was too severe to be reversed. Charles XII himself died at the age of thirty-six after being shot in the head standing in the siege trenches of Fredriksten, Norway. Indeed, the word “Poltava” has become essentially synonymous with the collapse of the glorious Swedish Empire; an avoidable disaster for which Charles XII allegedly bears sole responsibility. Here one encounters the central question begged by historians of all stripes: was not Charles XII simply a madman, drunk on his self-image of invincibility, stubbornly bent on humiliating his enemies, and lost in the imprudence of youth?

Historiographical Review

There are three general strains of ideological editorializing that have fouled the well of Charles XII’s memory. First, the Western European stereotype of “barbarian kings” pervaded English records of Sweden’s young monarch from the eighteenth century to at least the twentieth. Second, the predominantly French framing of the eighteenth century as an “Age of Liberty” contorted historical accounts into cautionary tales regarding the inevitable failure and evil of monarchies. Third, the embittered Swedes who survived the collapse of the Empire did what the grieving often do: attempt to find a single reason for their suffering. In each of these cases, Charles XII’s legacy was a casualty in an attempt to tell a good story.

From the Western European perspective, courteousness, cleanliness, and all manners of noble formalities marked a respectable ruler. The age of powdered wigs, luxurious frilled clothing, courtly dances, and gentlemanly conduct was in full swing during the early 1700s, and therefore Western Europeans often measured the civility of a nobleman or noblewoman by such standards of cultural refinement. During the Great Northern War, Western diplomats were shocked by Charles XII’s flagrant disregard for all such manners. The young king often felt that his adolescent appearance did not match his inward spirit, therefore he took pride in his smallpox scars and actively sought to leather his face with sunburns.[24] First-hand accounts of his appearance (mostly from his time camped at Altranstadt in 1706-1707) have been recorded by several appalled British diplomats who spent considerable ink in relaying exactly how repugnant Charles XII appeared. The British envoy to the Holy Roman Empire, George Stepney, wrote back to London vivid descriptions of a “slovenly” Charles XII, whose hair, waistcoat, and breeches were all “so greasy they may be fried,” and who would rush through meals brutishly “without any ceremony.”[25] Dr. John Robinson, England’s most trusted intelligence source at the Swedish court during these wars, abetted this depiction of a wild man by writing to the British Secretary of State that Charles XII was driven by revenge alone, and that he was not “much guided by the consideration of his own interests.”[26] These snapshots of a filthy, petulant, and vicious young man flooded back to Western Europe, doubtlessly saturating the contemporary Anglo perceptions upon which modern English scholarship has been built.[27] Both the Whigs and the Tories breathed life into this image in order to benefit their own political machinery.[28] Indeed, throughout Winston Churchill’s exhaustive history of the War of the Spanish Succession published in the 1930s, Charles XII is described as “dare-devil,” a “barbarian ruler,” and a leader split “between his various revenges and opportunities.”[29] Surely, if a leader lacked even the most basic marks of high society, how then could he possibly understand the nuances of grand strategy, or even his own strategic interests? Those who could not know his mind due to his reclusive nature settled upon describing his body and manners, resulting in a lasting image that is entirely incongruent with Charles XII’s strict classical training in war, languages, and grand strategy.

To the libertine minds of France and the West, the story of Charles XII fit too perfectly into the anti-monarchical message to be ignored.[30] Viewed in this light, Charles XII’s life is the tragic tale of absolute political authority falling into the hands of a young man who uses it to make war on all of his neighbors only to be led like a lamb to the slaughter by his own arrogance at Poltava. The first biography on Charles XII was written as a dialectical tale to follow the political currents of France during the later 1700s, authored by none other than Voltaire himself. Although it grants Charles XII some sympathy as a victim of the monarchical power structure, it still has the effect of painting him as the most extreme case of an absolutist king whose personal piety is polluted by war as he heedlessly sends his country plunging into ruin.[31] Another effect of Voltaire’s historical interpretation was that forerunners of the French Revolution saw Charles XII’s faith in God’s provision as an ingredient in his failure.[32] Indeed, Sweden’s fall in the Great Northern War was manipulated into secular historical propaganda for the new “Age of Liberty.”[33]

Finally, Swedish historical tradition follows much of the same trend, but with a particular bitterness. Because Charles XII made a habit of ignoring his military advisors during his invasion of Russia, those who outlasted him and witnessed the collapse of the empire shared a general feeling of fuming vindication.[34] The veterans that fought beside the King in battle remembered the valiance with which he led charges, but “as the last veterans of the war died off, so too did any surviving support for the king.”[35] The citizens of Sweden, strained heavily by the demands of the long years of war, demoralized by the humiliation of seeing their coastlines ravaged by Danish warships after 1709, and fearful for the future, embraced negative portrayals of their King as an obstinate fool. This sense of resentment manifested itself in a massive corpus popular literary works from Stockholm to Rome, including the play by August Strindberg quoted at the outset of this paper.[36] Strindberg’s work was designed to immortalize the image of Charles XII as a man whose “life has been one big mistake.”[37] One of the attitudes Strindberg captures in his play was the sense that Charles XII was unconcerned with the suffering of the Swedish people even as it surrounded him after returning home from the Ottoman Empire. In the second act, while the exhausted king lounges on a sofa, a drunken war veteran bursts into his chambers to angrily voice the plight of the people. Amongst his complaints, he shouts,

So you’re the King of Sweden who lies in bed for seven years while the country is being ruined… you’re a king, who leaves his capital and his government, who doesn’t dare to return to his home and his people up in Stockholm, because he is ashamed of his fiasco![38]

Strindberg’s portrayal was ascendant. Although a few poets over the eighteenth century attempted to cast Charles XII in a heroic light, they did not move public opinion away from Strindberg’s narrative.[39] This perception the young King as an “insensitive,” “narcissistic,” “obstinate,” and “psychopathic” man endured.[40] Sweden’s general pacifism, extending even into modern times, is based largely upon the distant memory of disaster. At critical moments in Swedish history, when war has appeared on the horizon, Strindberg’s play, like a “megaphone” of national conscience, has returned to Swedish stages as anti-war propaganda. At the outset of both World Wars, when pressure mounted for Sweden to enter the conflicts, Strindberg’s Charles XII began touring at once, driving up popular support for Swedish neutrality.[41] Thus, for over three hundred years, Sweden has been haunted by the ghost of Charles XII; a selfish, barbaric, narrow-minded, and above all, heartless ghost; a rotten apple which Sweden hoped to never again taste.

The impact of these combined historiographical poisons is best illustrated in an unlikely setting: the genre of heavy metal music. In 2012, the Swedish power metal band “Sabaton” added the album Carolus Rex (the Latinized name for King Charles) to its discography as an artistic narration of the Great Northern War. Its twelve energetic tracks kindle emotions of absolute domination and invincibility through their warlike drum solos, suspenseful buildups, and choruses which can only be sung with a curled lip and raised chin. The lyrics of the title track prove that even reverent commemorations of Charles XII still frame him as a man utterly possessed beyond reason by a sense of divine destiny. To include only a few verses,

All embrace me / It’s my time to rule at last / Fifteen years have I been waiting to sit upon my throne! / No allegiance / I will swear no oath / Crowned by God not by the church as my power is divine… / …I know I was destined to rule alone / All for myself I have claimed the throne / Born to rule / My time is now! / I was chosen by heaven / Say my name when you pray to the skies / See Carolus rise…[42]

Carolus Rex was so successful in Sweden that the album earned quadruple platinum status. In celebration of this milestone, Sabaton released a video in which Charles XII proudly traverses the scenic Swedish countryside, clad in his saber and tri-point hat, to personally deliver the four platinum records to the lead singer. In the voiceover, the actor playing Charles XII says, “[t]hree hundred years ago I died on a campaign against Norway, but there are some who still keep my legacy alive.”[43]

But the legacy of Charles XII ought to be a man who understood the foundations and limits of his power, animated by a youthful optimism and rugged determination to preserve the Empire his ancestors had gifted to him. His true skill, obscured by the passions of historians, is worthy of note in grand strategic literature. However, the most credible books on the topic, largely written to provide guidance for American policymakers, contain not a single chapter or tangential mention of the Great Northern War or Charles XII. The six most influential grand strategy books in the American canon contain a combined seventy-two case studies of nations that either succeeded or failed to survive, but only one even mentions the Swedish Empire (Figure 6).[44] With this in mind, it is now time to depart for a moment from Charles XII himself and begin investigating the creation of the empire he inherited. As shall be demonstrated, Sweden relied on three major pillars of power, all of which began to collapse while Charles XII was deliberating his next move at Altranstadt. The invasion of Russia, far from being a blind march to elusive glory, was proof that Charles XII was a far more adept grand strategist than the prejudiced caricature suggests.

The Pillars of Swedish Power

Defense of Peasants

The first of these pillars was the method by which the Swedes were able to sustainably finance their armed forces and retain the allegiance of their people. Far from being a backwards land of barbarians, Sweden was further ahead in the development of central government financing than other states, and thus by the time of the Great Northern War, Sweden resembled more of a “modern” state than its enemies.[45] But what did Sweden discover in public faith and finance that allowed it to punch above its weight on the world stage? The answer lies in the crown’s unique relationship to its subjects and the marginalization of nobles.

In 1542, the Swedish King Gustav I, founder of the Vasa dynastic line (of which Charles XII was a part), won over the hearts of Swedish people by instituting a type of social contract between the crown and the peasants. Coastal communities, having endured systematic raids by the Danes that were reminiscent of older Viking warfare, gave over their manpower, expertise, and resources to the Swedish crown in exchange for defense.[46] Even though some resisted the new central authority and its seizure of local resources, as found by Glete,

[King Gustav I] defended his policies of making guns from church-bells and raising taxes to keep armed men and great warships in peacetime. He had to explain the innovative connection between resource extraction and the benefits of protection provided by resources under his control. King Gustav won the content with the peasant rebels by military means, but also with political persuasion, which made most Swedish peasants remain calm or even send men to support his cause.[47]

The critical ingredient in financing was thus the peasants’ faith that any resources freely given to the crown would be used for national defense. It was trust in a public bargain – a social contract. The peasants would voluntarily funnel money, minerals, timbers, chemicals, and manpower to the crown, and in return, the crown would ensure that villages would not be overrun by invaders. Scandinavia’s rich mineral and metallurgical resources gave Sweden a significant advantage in the production of firearms and field artillery, which meant compliant peasants could produce weapons faster and cheaper than foreign powers.[48] The manpower element was particularly important. Much of the terror that neighboring powers felt toward Sweden was due to its ability to sustain a large naval and land force even in peacetime, as native soldiers and seamen were always in high supply.[49]

This trust largely eliminated nobles as a necessary “middleman” to collect taxes, which allowed Sweden to shake off the old coils of feudalism before its rivals could.[50] This had two indirect effects that benefited the royal treasury. First, nobles had fewer opportunities to plunder the common folk by raising taxes at will, which lowered the risk of tax revolts, ensuring a steady, predictable stream of revenue.[51] Second, nobles looking to acquire income went to the crown, not to the peasants. Upper class noble families looking to increase their wealth would voluntarily lend money to the crown in hopes of being rewarded with royal land and titles.[52] As compensation for the security that these loans provided, the crown exacted lower taxes from noble-held lands, making the acquisition of royal land highly lucrative.[53] Consequently, instead of having a single inefficient pipeline of resources from the peasants through the nobility, Sweden had a pipeline from each group, with the former providing raw materials and manpower, and the latter providing cash infusions.

By the time of Gustavus Adolphus’ reign in the 1630s, Sweden was a well-oiled, roaring machine ready to consume large swaths of Europe, and he pushed it to its fullest potential before his death.[54] With the Swedish homeland on the western Baltic shores secured against foreign raiders, Gustavus Adolphus aimed to lock down control of the southern and eastern shores so that no foreign enemy would have a safe port from which to launch an invasion.[55] But there was also an economic element to his focus on securing ports. To cite one example, the Livonian city of Riga was located at the headwaters of the Duna River tributary (Figure 8). This river system served as both a naval highway from Poland and Russia, and a major trading route for a large section of fertile Lithuanian croplands further inland.[56] This dual economic and strategic importance of the city made its acquisition one of Gustavus Adolphus’ most prized victories, and it “marked the beginning of a development which, ten years later, would subject every major river flowing into the Baltic to Swedish control.”[57] Though Riga was exceptionally strong, its basic geography was not unique. Baltic cities were naturally built at similar headwaters. By taking such port cities, Sweden secured both inland trade and influence over the population. Under this strategic framework, Sweden managed to reach across the Baltic Sea and seize land power with sea power.[58] The criticality of this point cannot be sufficiently overstated.

Gustavus Adolphus’ various conquests brought Finland, Estonia, Ingria, Livonia, Pomerania, and Bremen-Verden into the Swedish Empire, fulfilling his dream of turning the Baltic Sea into a Swedish lake. The Swedish social contract was exported to the new territories, where Adolphus worked tirelessly to build peasant confidence in the crown as the legitimate defender of the people. Before Swedish rule, these peasants suffered immensely. The territory economies were hallowed out, poverty was rampant, and “the nobles worked their serfs so hard that on Sundays they had no energy to come to church.”[59] One of Adolphus’ main tools in reversing these trends was the Swedish Lutheran Church, which became an exporter of clergymen to care for the poor in the territories, a source of direct representation for the working class, and a source of civilization in a darkened Eastern Europe.[60] The Swedish Lutheran Church became an advocate for peasant education and the freedom to leave abusive masters.[61] In this way, Gustavus Adolphus began replicating the social contract system and securing the trust of the masses. The result was that by the beginning of the Great Northern War, these revived territories were producing half of all Swedish crown revenue.[62] Gustavus Adolphus successfully expanded the advanced Swedish financial system, and his successors were handed an empire that grew from two-thirds of the size Texas to nearly twice the size of Texas.

Like Texas, an important piece of the Swedish state was a well-armed population. The uniquely high level of public trust between the crown and its subjects fostered the development of a guerilla warfare component in Swedish strategy. The Swedish kings encouraged peasants to keep and bear arms, ranging from pole axes and crossbows to billhooks and rifles.[63] Because Sweden itself was a heavily-forested region with sharp ravines and endless archipelagoes, cavalry warfare could not be used as effectively as on the plains and valleys of Western Europe. Before the consolidation of power under King Gustav I, peasants resisted invaders by staging ambushes and relying on the enemy’s ignorance of the terrain. Roberts describes an ingenious method by which Swedish commoners destroyed enemy forces, referred to as a brate,

A brate was a combined ambush and booby-trap, constructed in the forest. When the enemy fell into the ambush he found himself blocked by felled trees in front, and assailed in flank and rear. His difficulties were increased by the fact that the trees surrounding the position had been partially sawn through, and were now brought crashing down on his head… Fighting on their own ground, [the Swedes were] mobile, resourceful, and masters of guerilla…[64]

The Swedish Empire used this indigenous defense mechanism to its advantage. Foreign invaders were quickly met by the harassment of loyal peasant militias, which bought time for the Swedish military to organize and deploy to the theater. But acting alone, these militias could not stand for long periods of time.[65] The greatest strengths of the Empire rested on the shoulders of loyal peasants. What the crown needed was a defensive infrastructure that could guarantee its ability to defend its people in the territories. It needed a fortress chain to uphold its end of the social contract.

Territorial Fortress Chain

The century before Charles XII’s ascendance to the throne was marked by a monumental transition in European military planning. The age of gunpowder and field artillery demanded a revolution in fixed fortifications. Medieval-era castle walls lacked the sheer thickness required to stop a cannonball, and therefore European states began to modernize their outdated castles into “star forts,” named for their star-like layout (Figure 7). The strength of a star fort was its bastions, which comprised each point of the star. Built to be incredibly thick and angular, bastions would ensure that artillery fire would glance off the fortress walls.[66] Because the Swedish territories acquired by Gustavus Adolphus during the 1620s and 1630s contained a patchwork of castles built by the dying breed of Teutonic knights, his successors were left with a largely irrelevant defense infrastructure in the new lands. The task of modernization fell to Charles XII’s father, Charles XI. Financial resources were not infinite, therefore not all of the Teutonic castles could be reasonably modernized. However, by investigating which fortifications took priority during the modernization process, one can gain insight into how the Swedish military intended to defend these provinces.

For the purposes of this paper, the term “fortress chain” will henceforth refer to the cities outlined in figure 9 (Figure 9). Sundberg has done excruciatingly extensive work on this topic, compiling a five-hundred-page report on the strength of over thirty different Swedish fortresses before the outbreak of the Great Northern War (Figure 8).[67] His work reveals that Charles XI’s modernization efforts relied heavily on an engineer named Erik Dahlberg, who eventually founded the Swedish Engineer Corps.[68]

Sundberg’s analysis is based largely on primary source financial records, reports on the delivery of cannons, the funding of new bastions, and the razing of certain castles. His work illuminates a pattern in Dahlberg’s plans: Dahlberg chose to modernize fortresses that were on deep inland waterways within roughly ten to twenty miles from the open Baltic Sea. He left or leveled most inland fortifications that could be used by invaders, with only a few exceptions.[69] The fortresses that received the most intense modernization efforts (Riga, Stettin, Reval, Narva, Stade, and Pernau) were deemed critical to Swedish naval operations to land troops and transport territorial supplies. From these choices, one can reasonably draw four conclusions.

First, Sweden anticipated land invasions, not naval invasions, as the most likely threat to the territories. The deliberate destruction of inland castles would ensure that any invading force would be left to starve without a strong fort in which to rest or store supplies.

Second, the Swedes looked to maximize their preexisting naval advantage to control the inland theaters. The intense fortification of the aforementioned cities indicates a desire to control the territories via sea-linked rivers.

Third, the Swedish navy expected no significant challenger on the open Baltic Sea. This would not have been an unreasonable expectation. Sweden’s prior victories over Denmark had kept the Danish navy bottled up in the south, the only strong Polish port of Danzig was operationally constricted by a massive jetty with only one narrow opening, and Russia did not yet have a single port in the Baltic.[70] Cities located ten to twenty miles from the open sea would have made easy targets for naval blockades, which would have cut off Sweden’s access to its hefty modernization investments.

Fourth, Sweden did not expect the Russian navy to enter Lake Ladoga (Figure 5). By the time the Great Northern War began, the fortresses defending the lake (Kexholm, Nyenskans, Vyborg, and Noteborg) faced neglect and dilapidation. Since the days of Gustavus Adolphus, the Swedish navy was able to sail along rivers into northeastern Russia, creating a type of “naval guerilla warfare” on small lakes and rivers thus preventing Russia from advancing to the Baltic.[71] Russia’s distance from the Baltic coast during the reign of Charles XI likely made the need to strengthen the fortresses around Lake Ladoga less urgent to Dahlberg.

In summation, Sweden planned to defend its territories by keeping certain fortresses stocked, receiving early warning of a land invasion, swiftly sailing troops unimpeded across the Baltic, unloading them along the inland waterways, relieving the peasant guerillas, and supplying its armies from the nearest coastal star fort. The risk of facing a naval threat in northeastern waters was not foreseen.

But this shift to a reliance on the fortress chain had an unintended consequence: it moved Swedish naval strategy away from its roots. While the fortress chain acted as a wall against the eastern powers, the Swedish navy became a wall against the southern powers. In order to prevent Denmark from threatening Swedish supply routes to the territories Sweden moved its naval center of gravity south. The main naval base was moved from Stockholm to Karlskrona in 1680, near the southern tip of Sweden, allowing Swedish warships to more quickly counter Danish incursions (Figure 8).[72] With the navy focusing increasingly on containing Denmark, northern Baltic waters – and consequently the northern territorial fortress chain’s rear – was left vulnerable. King Gustav I learned early in his reign during the 1500s that Sweden needed two types of fleets: a shallow-water fleet made for rivers and tight archipelagoes, and a deep-water fleet made for patrolling the open Baltic Sea.[73] Because the coasts had been locked down by Gustavus Adolphus’ campaigns and fortified by Charles XI, the need for a shallow water fleet became less apparent by the start of the Great Northern War. The Swedes thus focused on building deep water battlefleets that could only sail in wide waterways, and thus “the new Swedish Empire had made the southern Baltic into the decisive theatre for naval operations in the Baltic.”[74] It was a classic case of strength itself becoming an unpredicted source of weakness. But Denmark was not the only concern that Sweden faced in the open waters of the Baltic. There was a looming threat beyond the Danish Straits that demanded the crown’s attention: The Sea Powers.

Neutrality of the Sea Powers

The final pillar of Swedish grand strategy was ensuring that the Sea Powers did not enter the Baltic Sea to challenge the Swedish navy. Colloquially, the label “Sea Powers” refers to the English and the Dutch. Both found strength in foreign commerce and large navies, and both were allied against France during the War of the Spanish Succession. The allure of Sweden’s rich territories drew the Sea Powers toward emphatic bilateral trade in the Baltic. Specifically, Sweden’s deep reserves of raw materials (such as red copper, lead, steel, and iron) cheap manufactured goods (guns, brass wires, pikes, cannon shot, and body armor) attracted the attention of Western Europe as a sustainable source of wartime materials.[75] For states that relied on naval forces, the Swedish Empire represented such a limitless of source of timbers, pitch, and masts, that by the time of the Great Northern War, England was purchasing over three quarters of its most basic naval supplies from Sweden.[76] Moreover, because England’s iron foundries were facing a shortage of fuel at this time, London found itself importing two thirds of its iron from Swedish foundries.[77] The Dutch (exceptional financiers as they were), provided much of the liquid capital needed to keep Swedish mining and agriculture in operation.[78] As a cumulative result, both of the Sea Powers had major strategic interests in the continual flow of Swedish territorial goods, merchant access to Baltic ports, and the stability of the Baltic economy.

Denmark, even though it was Sweden’s nearest strategic rival, shared these interests. As the gatekeeper of the Baltic, the Danes had the necessary leverage to implement taxes and duties through the Sound Toll, which became a foundational source of Danish royal revenue. Every Dutch and English merchant ship passing through the Danish Straits into the Atlantic brought riches to the Danish treasury. So essential was the Sound Toll to Denmark’s financial structure that even when it was in open war with Sweden during the seventeenth century, it never violated the neutrality of commercial trade, and indeed made its territorial waters “safest region for long-distance shipping.”[79]

But as is often the case in international affairs, wherever critical strategic interests are found, they are accompanied by the scent of hidden tensions. Sweden and the Sea Powers were more than happy to facilitate bilateral trade as long as they both reaped their respective benefits. Sweden sought the economic development of its new territories to foster popular support and fuel the military, while the Sea Powers sought a stable supply of weapons and metals without which their war efforts might be put in jeopardy. Because of the conquests of Gustavus Adolphus and the complicated political missteps made by Charles XI, Charles XII came to the throne with almost no allies but the Sea Powers, and those relationships were based exclusively on the mutual interest in trade.[80] Moreover, because of British reliance on Sweden’s raw materials, British merchants faced a degree of mistreatment at Swedish ports, including restricted housing arrangements and unfavorable loan practices.[81] One British lord at the time remarked that the abuse of the merchants must be endured only because without the Baltic supply chains, the “whole navy of England will be rendered perfectly useless.”[82] As Chance succinctly put the issue,

It mattered little to [the Sea Powers] to whom belonged Bremen or Pomerania, Livonia, Estonia, or Finland, so long as they had leave to carry to the harbors of those countries the wares of the world, and fetch in return the timber, hemp, and pitch which the shipbuilders of the west required.[83]

In other words, at the outset of the Great Northern War, the Sea Powers would have been willing to throw their lot in with whichever power could deliver the resources they needed. No loyalty to Sweden itself was present.[84] In fact, the Dutch were beginning to develop a subtle affection for Russia, as they enjoyed almost exclusive access to rare Russian merchandise (such as furs, leather, beaver skins, and caviar), which fetched high prices across Western Europe. Obtaining these wares was made difficult by the fact that Russia had no Baltic port, and thus Dutch merchants had to make dangerous voyages into frozen Arctic waters in order to reach the Russian port of Archangel (Figure 4).[85] Easy access to Swedish goods was necessary, but easy access to Swedish and Russian goods was optimal.

The prospect of two large, highly lethal navies entering the Baltic against Sweden was not a trivial threat. Indeed, before the Great Northern War, the Swedish crown was going out of its way to sign peace pacts with Western European powers that traded in the Baltic in order to safeguard those waters from any hostilities.[86] The fact that the Dutch noble (William of Orange) had ascended to the throne of England during the “Glorious Revolution” of 1688 further compounded the threat of a joint intervention by lashing the interests of the Sea Power thrones even tighter together. But as long as the trade veins of the Swedish Empire were kept open, Stockholm was free to continue its time-tested tradition of dominating the Baltic without smothering the economy. The only real threat to those veins was an incursion by the Sea Powers, making their neutrality a pivotal part of Swedish grand strategy.

Charles XII’s Vision

By understanding the nuances of Sweden’s position in Europe, its sources of strength, and its early signs of weakness, one can make a sounder judgement of Charles XII’s choices during the Great Northern War. The prevailing caricature of him as a spiteful misguided madman fails to account for these factors. But a central question must be answered before continuing: how much of Sweden’s geopolitical situation did the teenaged king truly comprehend?

Tarnished early records of Charles XII begrudgingly surrender some important details about his upbringing and tendencies along these lines. Voltaire’s biography notes that the very first book given to him at the outset of his education was a treatise on Sweden’s relationships with neighboring states, written by the renowned German jurist, economist, and historian Samuel von Puffendorf.[87] Browning’s biography includes that one of Charles XII’s earliest pastimes for “relaxation” was transcribing the diary of his grandfather, Charles X, which contained various adventures and diplomatic dealings of his ancestor’s travels.[88] When Charles XII was a youth, his ancestor Gustavus Adolphus mesmerized and inspired him, and his eventual excursion into Germany demonstrated that he had studied at least the geographical dimensions Adolphus’ campaigns along with his “character and personality.”[89] He showed an affection for the peasantry and distaste for nobles that matched the traditional dispositions of his predecessors, even making the nobles attend his coronation on foot rather than on horseback as a sign of revocation of special social status.[90] During the early stages of the war, he made a concerted effort to shore up relations with the Sea Powers and guarantee the removal of “all difficulties.”[91] Before Poltava, he carried on his father’s policy of avoiding foreign military subsidies that could entangle Sweden in wars beyond its interests.[92] Yet Voltaire alleges that once when Charles XII was being advised to negotiate rather than make war, he arose and declared his intention to “strike terror” into all who oppose him.[93] However, when he finally left the diplomatic hurricane at Altranstadt in 1707, his aid, Count Piper, recorded him as saying,

We have now been a whole year in Germany, the peace with King Augustus is concluded, and all disputes with other powers are amicably arranged without our having made a single new enemy. We have done all our business, and are in a position to leave Saxony, of which we were formerly so much in dread.[94]

The primary account from Piper sounds far more rational and calculated than the unattributed hearsay of Voltaire written decades after the king’s death. There is significant reason to believe that Charles XII understood Sweden’s foreign relations, the construction of the empire by his ancestors, and the unique societal norms from which it drew strength. If one can condemn his failure to save the empire, it should be a judgement of mistake, not of malice. Given the situation faced by Charles XII in 1706-1707, his invasion of Russia was a gamble, but one made out of necessity, not narcissism. It is likely that the twenty-five-year-old at Altranstadt foresaw the impending collapse of all three Swedish grand strategic pillars, and the invasion was his attempt to save them all before it was too late.

The Rationality of Invading Russia

Decision at Altranstadt

Winston Churchill tells a fascinating story about the day his ancestor, the Duke of Marlborough, met King Charles XII in Altranstadt. In this tiny rural Saxon town, somehow every world power managed to establish some form of an embassy to speak with the victorious Swede. The barbarian king, his fangs still dripping with the blood of his enemies slain at Fraudstadt, sat on the doorstep of civilized Western Europe ready to lunge recklessly into the ongoing War of the Spanish Succession and thereby ignite the true War to End All Wars. As Churchill romanticizes,

There was a general feeling in the shuddering Courts of Germany and in the dour Cabinets of the Sea Powers that Marlborough, with his military glamour and almost equally renowned diplomatic arts, was the man who of all others could penetrate the [Swedish] King’s designs, could tip the balance, if it were possible, and cushion this formidable, romantic, ruffian genius and his grim phalanx into the Russian wastes.[95]

In other words, the meeting of Marlborough and Charles XII would decide the fate of Europe, and only Marlborough could convince the Swedish leader to turn against Russia instead of Germany. The implication left with Churchill’s reader is that the Swedish disaster in the “Russian wastes” was actually the result of Marlborough’s cunning flatteries employed in his meeting with Charles XII. This is rubbish. It is highly unlikely that the Duke of Marlborough had any impact on Charles XII’s choice to attack Russia.[96] By the time he had arrived as a victorious conqueror at Altranstadt, there was a chill creeping up the Swedish Empire’s spine: Russia had miraculously entered the Baltic. The fissure in Swedish grand strategy was discovered.

Collapse of the Fortress Chain

Rather than wait for his armies to be crushed by quickly-deployed Swedish forces, Tsar Peter learned from the early stages of the war that defeating Sweden’s territories required a naval complement. Because the Russians were unable to build a shipyard on Lake Ladoga, Peter the Great ordered that ships built in Archangel be dragged across the land into the lake itself while Charles XII was occupied with his campaign against Poland-Lithuania. This move in 1703 gave the Russian forces marching into Swedish Ingria the necessary support required to successfully besiege the cities left poorly-defended by Dahlberg decades beforehand (Figure 5).[97] By 1704, the gatehouse between the lake and the Baltic, Noteborg, had fallen. Nyenskans had effectively been turned into the new city of St. Petersburg. The prize jewel of Narva had fallen. Peter slipped into the back door of Estonia and Livonia by taking Dorpat and controlling Lake Peipus, granting him access to the heart of the wealthy Swedish territories (Figure 10).

But how did this come about? There are a number of facets to this explanation, most of which have been touched upon previously, but the most important being the atrophy of Sweden’s shallow-water naval capabilities. Both Gustavus Adolphus and Charles XI had relied primarily on deep-water battlefleets to keep Denmark at bay, allowing shallow-water vessels to rot and institutional knowledge of littoral combat to wither.[98] Despite the fact that the Swedish navy had the manpower, resources, and supply chains to quickly build shallow-water oared vessels in 1703, it failed to do so. Shallow-water operations that could have dislodged the Russians from St. Petersburg were seen as “an inconvenient problem rather than a tempting opportunity to gain advantages over the enemy.”[99] In short, the Swedish navy lost one of its core competencies because the naval staff believed it was no longer necessary. By moving its headquarters south to Karlskrona, it retreated from a theater that was now being contested. By limiting the scope of its mission, it was unable to see a fairly obvious solution to an unexpected problem.

Meanwhile, Tsar Peter frantically poured his coffers into securing St. Petersburg and turning it into a shipyard for deep-water vessels, aiming to extend his navy’s reach further into the Baltic. The Russian victory over Narva, previously the site of Charles XII’s most glorious victory, was largely made possible by the fact that it was supported by the sea. Even when the Swedish navy made attempts to regain the Neva River and Lake Ladoga in 1704, the deep-water battlefleet was only able to blockade the Gulf of Finland, leaving the Russian navy free to creep along the coastlines and hijack the fortress chain while using their own deep-water vessels to hold off the Swedish fleets.[100] The city of St. Petersburg became the birthplace of a new era in Russian naval power, and a graveyard for the peasants that trusted the Swedish monarchs to defend them.

Collapse of Peasant Faith

The Russians, having punched through the fortress chain with little resistance, turned to ravaging the countryside. In the summer of 1704, Moscow’s forces shredded through the fertile Estonian countryside burning over 1500 villages while the Swedish soldiers (cut off from naval support) hid within their remaining fortresses.[101] With peasants being driven into desperation, Charles XII likely foresaw a replication of events that occurred early in his reign. Before the start of the war, Finland lost 22% of its population to famine.[102] The economic and social fallout saw peasant resistance to royal authority, a spike in tax evasion, refusals to enlist in the local militias, and desertion from militias altogether.[103] This was likely an unsettling preview of how the territories would look if faith in the crown’s protection began to slip away. Moreover, the nobles in the territories had been alienated by actions of Charles XI, who had increased taxes on the lands gifted to them by Gustavus Adolphus in order to pay for fortress modernization.[104] The collapse of the fortress chain undermined incentives for nobles to cushion public war spending with private funds, syphoning off another source of potential emergency revenue.

As Russian power grew across the territories, the failure to defend the peasants from enemy advances hollowed out the crown’s promise of protection. Every Estonian village ransacked, every Ingrian trader forced into the miserable work of building St. Petersburg, and every Livonian farmhand wondering where the Swedish saviors were, made the fear of broken trust more potent.[105] The guerilla fighters that did stay loyal to the crown were left without support, and children likely began wondering why their fathers suddenly were not returning from the forests. The longer it continued, the more the panic would spread, threatening the very financial lifeblood of the Swedish Empire. By 1707, this crisis had reached a fever pitch. Russia invaded Finland, fanning “social conflict” into “endemic violence” against Swedish tax representatives across the territories.[106] The most important pillar was crumbling away, and the final pillar was dangerously close to collapsing.

Collapse of Sea Power Neutrality

Once Peter the Great gained sufficient control over Swedish territories, he began to stabilize Baltic trade on his own terms. The Sea Powers, anxious to ensure that their critical raw material and weapon imports continued in a steady flow, were more than content to lay anchor in familiar cities now under a Russian flag. The Russian occupation of Swedish territory failed to make crops stop growing or prevent the earth from yielding its minerals. Nor did it render peasants immune to hunger. The blockading of St. Petersburg could be accomplished by the Swedish battlefleet at the mouth of the Gulf of Finland, but the blockading of each individual occupied port was far more difficult.[107] All of the territories’ wealth now began supercharging the growth of Russian power in the Baltic by lining Moscow’s pockets with new sources of revenue and materials. Soon, every Dutch or English merchant ship sailing through the Swedish blockade unharmed would be a severe threat to the Swedish Empire. By 1707, Charles XII likely saw the writing on the wall: the day was coming when his only remaining desperate option would be to seize foreign trading vessels, inviting the Sea Powers to militarily intervene against the already struggling Swedish navy.

This day did eventually come in 1712, when Charles XII greenlit the use of state-sanctioned piracy to cut off Russia’s ability to profit from Baltic trade. This move was predictably answered by the entrance of Dutch and English warships into the Baltic Sea to defend their merchant vessels.[108] Further resistance to the Sea Powers would require the Swedes to choose between declaring war on Europe’s strongest navies or swallowing the insult of passively watching as Russia consumed the wealth for which generations of Swedes had bled and died. This was the worst possible outcome for a young man who felt the weight of his ancestors’ accomplishments upon his shoulders. Yet the youthful optimism and rugged determination of a man who hunted bears with only sharpened sticks likely came roaring into the foreground while he weighed his options at Altranstadt in 1706-1707. It was time for the lion of the north to demonstrate that he was indeed worthy of the title once held by Gustavus Adolphus, and that he would follow in the footsteps of Alexander the Great.[109]

In Search of a Grand Bargain

The invasion of Russia was likely a bid to obtain through concession what Charles XII’s navy could not obtain through combat: reclamation of the territorial fortress chain and all of its grand strategic power. By seizing Moscow, Sweden could theoretically turn back the clock on Russia’s conquests in the territories by demanding the return of all fortresses to Swedish control and the eviction of all Russian troops. This grand bargain would essentially trade the heart of Russia for the lungs of the Swedish Empire, rewinding the previous five years of disasters. The twentieth-century British military historian Basil Liddell-Hart would come to call this type of strategy the “indirect approach” or “exploiting the line of least resistance.”[110] Rather than taking the expected course of action against the enemy, Liddell-Hart argues that strategic success is most often found in pursuing alternative objectives that the enemy does not expect. Tsar Peter had already demonstrated that he was capable of using his new naval power to successfully defeat Swedish land forces in the territories. Thus, continuing the direct approach of attack would have been foolish for Sweden. This direct approach is precisely what Charles XII’s military advisors requested on his march into Russia. Twice during the invasion, Charles XII had the opportunity to turn his army northwest, but he refused.[111] The King, having studied the architecture of the Swedish Empire laid out by his ancestors, likely understood that if he had taken this advice, his forces would become the very type of invading land army that the entire fortress chain was originally designed to destroy. He would have run his last field army straight into the trap laid by his forefathers – a trap now controlled by the enemy. Without peasant guerilla support, any inland fortress in which to find refuge, or any supply chains from the ocean, his army would have been just as doomed as previous invading armies that failed to seize the territories from Gustavus Adolphus or Charles XI. This was not madness or arrogance; it was prudence in the face of dire circumstances. It may be assumed by modern observers that invading Russia in the winter could never be the line of least resistance, especially when they enjoy the hindsight of the failed campaigns under Napoleon and Hitler. But in the case of the Great Northern War, it was Sweden’s best hope for saving the Empire.

Charles XII’s odd behavior at Altranstadt bolsters this interpretation of events. Spectators and historians have wondered why he stayed in Saxony for so long as Russia consumed his territories. The clearest answer is that he was giving his troops time to rest regroup before their premeditated invasion campaign, which was likely decided upon before he even arrived in Altranstadt.[112] His diplomatic actions at Altranstadt also demonstrate that he was testing the limits of how many concessions he could wring out of an enemy once he occupied their capitol. The capture of Saxony after the battle of Fraustadt gave Charles XII immense negotiating power by which he could levy previously absurd terms of peace.[113] The forcible surrender and torture of John Patkul (a Livonian traitor who first created the Triple Alliance) who had been sent to Altranstadt under the traditional protection of diplomatic immunity, beyond all other demands demonstrated how far Charles XII believed he could push his adversaries into humiliating submission.[114] The claim that the young king felt he had a personal score to settle with Peter is certainly not unfounded, as the Russian monarch’s promised peace with Sweden in 1700 was immediately violated after Peter received confirmation of a separate peace with the Ottoman Empire, believing he could backstab Charles XII with impunity.[115] If Charles XII was able to replicate in Moscow his political situation at Altranstadt, he would have been indeed able to rewind the war in Ingria, Livonia, and Estonia. The humiliation of Peter himself could be an added reward on top of the grand strategic victory, but it was not the primary goal, as prejudiced scholarship would suggest.

Far from being evidence of blind rage, unfettered narcissism, and psychopathic tendencies, Charles XII’s invasion of Russia was proof that he understood both the raw severity of Sweden’s deteriorating strategic situation and how indirect action could cut a new trail to victory. In the end, his youthful optimism and gritty resolve was unable to overcome the desolation of Russia’s scorched earth policy, and the resulting disaster at Poltava sank any hope of regaining the territories. Because he never reached Moscow, no grand bargain ever took place, and Tsar Peter, emboldened by his victory over the Swedish invasion, accelerated his annexations of Swedish territory, ensuring that Stockholm would not be able to recover from its losses.[116] The failure of Charles XII to rescue the empire should therefore be attributed to overwhelming odds that favored Russia, not the fabricated caricature of a petulant child leading an army off of a cliff in search of revenge.

Conclusion

The Lessons of Sweden

The American canon of grand strategic literature has not yet accepted a single chapter dedicated to the Swedish Empire. Let this be the first. As has been demonstrated, the British, French, and Swedish historical traditions have obfuscated important lessons for modern policymakers and militaries by attributing all of imperial Sweden’s shortcomings to a single man. But after careful review of Sweden’s construction and sources of strength, there are three main lessons that the Swedish Empire provides. First, militaries should not abandon core competencies when they no longer appear relevant. Had the Swedish navy maintained its ability to wage shallow-water warfare even after no shallow-water rivals seemed apparent, it could have prevented Russia from gaining any foothold in the Baltic Sea by swiftly destroying the first ships dragged into the shallows of Lake Ladoga and the Neva River. Second, relationships with foreign powers must contain more than simply economic interests. When strategic partners have a vested interest in maintaining one another’s unique form of government, they are not so easily replaced by another state that can provide all of the same (or indeed, more) goods and services. The Sea Powers shared only economic interests with Sweden, and Charles XII’s predecessors ensured that it remained that way, fostering no new cultural or religious connections that gave the Sea Powers an interest in the continuation of the Swedish state uniquely. As soon as Russia was able to provide the same economic benefits as Sweden once did, Sweden’s hope to obtain allies in its time of need had vanished. Finally, states in which consensual (or quasi-consensual) government is the norm must prioritize the health of the citizens above almost all other facets of public life. Sweden is a prime example of how a strong social contract can create an exceptionally powerful state in terms of both finances and military lethality. Sweden rose like Colossus in northern Europe because it harnessed the power of individual initiative for the purpose of common defense faster than any other contemporary power, building Sweden into a highly intimidating hegemon. Once such states neglect the health of the population, they can expect the quick unraveling of national strength, just as Sweden experienced. Modern policymakers can draw historical experience from the well of Swedish history, but only if one first removes the editorial poisons that have fouled up the memory of Charles XII.

Laying Charles XII to Rest

Charles XII has not been allowed to rest in peace. When he was shot in the head on that fateful night in Norway, rumors later spread that he was actually assassinated by his own men, because his personal character and recklessness was so unbearable. Strindberg’s play ends by suggesting that this was, in fact, the case – that the Swedish people would have been justified in killing him in cold blood as vengeance for his hubristic destruction of the country. Consequently, Charles XII’s body has been repeatedly exhumed over the years to determine whether or not the gaping hole in his decaying head shows evidence of foul play. The insistence of biased scholarship that this young man was an insensitive warmonger disrespects his memory. Political assassinations can occur in death as much as in life, and Charles XII suffers such an assassination nearly every time his name appears in prominent histories.

There is a moral obligation upon historians to tell the truth to the best of their ability. To do otherwise is to both rob future generations of valuable insights that could have been otherwise gleaned from an honest account while simultaneously denigrating those who become casualties in an attempt to tell a good story. Hurling into a pit the memory of a young man who forsook all earthly pleasures in order that he might better fulfill his duty to defend his country carries with it a moral repugnance. To shroud his true legacy in slanders and accusations of idiocy is to effectively expunge the sacrifices he made from the memory of all posterity and render his sufferings – and the sufferings of the Swedish people – as meaningless. The memory of King Charles XII should live on as what he was: a man who despite his youth held a fervent love for his people and a keen strategic intuition.

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