{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1946/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1946","id":"gutenberg_1946","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1946","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Warfare","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Military art and science","War"],"text":"Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOn War\n\nby General Carl von Clausewitz\n\nTRANSLATED BY COLONEL J.J. GRAHAM\n\n1874 was 1st edition of this translation. 1909 was the London reprinting.\n\nNEW AND REVISED EDITION WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY\nCOLONEL F.N. MAUDE C.B. (LATE R.E.)\n\n\nEIGHTH IMPRESSION IN THREE VOLUMES\n\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION\nNOTICE\nTHE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR\n\n\nBRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ\n\nBOOK I.\tON THE NATURE OF WAR\nCHAPTER I.\t  What is War?\nCHAPTER II.\t  Ends and Means in War\nCHAPTER III.  The Genius for War\nCHAPTER IV.\t  Of Danger in War\nCHAPTER V.\t  Of Bodily Exertion in War\nCHAPTER VI.\t  Information in War\nCHAPTER VII.  Friction in War\nCHAPTER VIII. Concluding Remarks, Book I\n\nBOOK II.\tON THE THEORY OF WAR\nCHAPTER I.\t  Branches of the Art of War\nCHAPTER II.\t  On the Theory of War\nCHAPTER III.  Art or Science of War\nCHAPTER IV.\t  Methodicism\nCHAPTER V.\t  Criticism\nCHAPTER VI.   On Examples\n\nBOOK III.\tOF STRATEGY IN GENERAL\nCHAPTER I.\t    Strategy\nCHAPTER II.\t    Elements of Strategy\nCHAPTER III.\tMoral Forces\nCHAPTER IV.  \tThe Chief Moral Powers\nCHAPTER V.   \tMilitary Virtue of an Army\nCHAPTER VI.\t    Boldness\nCHAPTER VII.\tPerseverance\nCHAPTER VIII.\tSuperiority of Numbers\nCHAPTER IX.\t    The Surprise\nCHAPTER X.\t    Stratagem\nCHAPTER XI.\t    Assembly of Forces in Space\nCHAPTER XII.\tAssembly of Forces in Time\nCHAPTER XIII.\tStrategic Reserve\nCHAPTER XIV.\tEconomy of Forces\nCHAPTER XV.\t    Geometrical Element\nCHAPTER XVI.\tOn the Suspension of the Act in War\nCHAPTER XVII.\tOn the Character of Modern War\nCHAPTER XVIII.  Tension and Rest\n\nBOOK IV.\tTHE COMBAT\nCHAPTER I.\t    Introductory\nCHAPTER II.   \tCharacter of a Modern Battle\nCHAPTER III.\tThe Combat in General\nCHAPTER IV.\t    The Combat in General (_continuation_)\nCHAPTER V.\t    On the Signification of the Combat\nCHAPTER VI.\t    Duration of Combat\nCHAPTER VII.\tDecision of the Combat\nCHAPTER VIII.\tMutual Understanding as to a Battle\nCHAPTER IX.   \tThe Battle\nCHAPTER X.\t    Effects of Victory\nCHAPTER XI.\t    The Use of the Battle\nCHAPTER XII.\tStrategic Means of Utilising Victory\nCHAPTER XIII.\tRetreat After a Lost Battle\nCHAPTER XIV.    Night Fighting\n\nBOOK V.\tMILITARY FORCES\n CHAPTER I.\t    General Scheme\n CHAPTER II.\tTheatre of War, Army, Campaign\n CHAPTER III.\tRelation of Power\n CHAPTER IV.\tRelation of the Three Arms\n CHAPTER V.\t    Order of Battle of an Army\n CHAPTER VI.\tGeneral Disposition of an Army\n CHAPTER VII.\tAdvanced Guard and Out-Posts\n CHAPTER VIII.\tMode of Action of Advanced Corps\n CHAPTER IX.\tCamps\n CHAPTER X.\t    Marches\n CHAPTER XI.\tMarches (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XII.\tMarches (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XIII.\tCantonments\n CHAPTER XIV.\tSubsistence\n CHAPTER XV.\tBase of Operations\n CHAPTER XVI.\tLines of Communication\n CHAPTER XVII.\tOn Country and Ground\n CHAPTER XVIII. Command of Ground\n\nBOOK VI.\tDEFENCE\n CHAPTER I.\t    Offence and Defence\n CHAPTER II.\tThe Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Tactics\n CHAPTER III.\tThe Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Strategy\n CHAPTER IV.\tConvergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence\n CHAPTER V.\t    Character of Strategic Defensive\n CHAPTER VI.\tExtent of the Means of Defence\n CHAPTER VII.\tMutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence\n CHAPTER VIII.\tMethods of Resistance\n CHAPTER IX.\tDefensive Battle\n CHAPTER X.\t    Fortresses\n CHAPTER XI.\tFortresses (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XII.\tDefensive Position\n CHAPTER XIII.\t Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps\n CHAPTER XIV.\tFlank Positions\n CHAPTER XV.\tDefence of Mountains\n CHAPTER XVI.\tDefence of Mountains (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XVII.\tDefence of Mountains (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XVIII.\tDefence of Streams and Rivers\n CHAPTER XIX.\tDefence of Streams and Rivers (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XX.\tA. Defence of Swamps\n CHAPTER XX.\tB. Inundations\n CHAPTER XXI.\tDefence of Forests\n CHAPTER XXII.\tThe Cordon\n CHAPTER XXIII.\tKey of the Country\n CHAPTER XXIV.\tOperating Against a Flank\n CHAPTER XXV.\tRetreat into the Interior of the Country\n CHAPTER XXVI.\tArming the Nation\n CHAPTER XXVII.\tDefence of a Theatre of War\n CHAPTER XXVIII.\tDefence of a Theatre of War (_continued_)\n CHAPTER XXIX.\tDefence of a Theatre of War (_continued_)\u2014Successive Resistance\n CHAPTER XXX.   Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_)\u2014When No Decision is Sought For\n\nBOOK VII.\tTHE ATTACK\n CHAPTER I.\t    The Attack in Relation to the Defence\n CHAPTER II.\tNature of the Strategical Attack\n CHAPTER III.\tOn the Objects of Strategical Attack\n CHAPTER IV.\tDecreasing Force of the Attack\n CHAPTER V.\t    Culminating Point of the Attack\n CHAPTER VI.\tDestruction of the Enemy\u2019s Armies\n CHAPTER VII.\tThe Offensive Battle\n CHAPTER VIII.\tPassage of Rivers\n CHAPTER IX.\tAttack on Defensive Positions\n CHAPTER X.\t    Attack on an Entrenched Camp\n CHAPTER XI.\tAttack on a Mountain Range\n CHAPTER XII.\tAttack on Cordon Lines\n CHAPTER XIII.\tMan\u0153uvering\n CHAPTER XIV.\tAttack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods\n CHAPTER XV.\tAttack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision\n CHAPTER XVI.\tAttack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great Decision\n CHAPTER XVII.\tAttack on Fortresses\n CHAPTER XVIII.\tAttack on Convoys\n CHAPTER XIX.\tAttack on the Enemy\u2019s Army in its Cantonments\n CHAPTER XX.\tDiversion\n CHAPTER XXI.\tInvasion\n CHAPTER XXII.  On the Culminating Point of Victory\n\nBOOK VIII.\tPLAN OF WAR\n CHAPTER I.\t    Introduction\n CHAPTER II.\tAbsolute and Real War\n CHAPTER III.\tA. Interdependence of the Parts in a War\n CHAPTER III.\tB. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War and the Efforts to be Made\n CHAPTER IV.\tEnds in War More Precisely Defined\u2014Overthrow of the Enemy\n CHAPTER V.\t    Ends in War More Precisely Defined (_continued_)\u2014Limited Object\n CHAPTER VI.\tA. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object\n CHAPTER VI.\tB. War as an Instrument of Policy\n CHAPTER VII.\t Limited Object\u2014Offensive War\n CHAPTER VIII.\tLimited Object\u2014Defence\n CHAPTER IX.\tPlan of War When the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe Germans interpret their new national colours\u2014black, red, and\nwhite\u2014by the saying, \u201cDurch Nacht und Blut zur licht.\u201d (\u201cThrough night\nand blood to light\u201d), and no work yet written conveys to the thinker a\nclearer conception of all that the red streak in their flag stands for\nthan this deep and philosophical analysis of \u201cWar\u201d by Clausewitz.\n\nIt reveals \u201cWar,\u201d stripped of all accessories, as the exercise of force\nfor the attainment of a political object, unrestrained by any law save\nthat of expediency, and thus gives the key to the interpretation of\nGerman political aims, past, present, and future, which is\nunconditionally necessary for every student of the modern conditions of\nEurope. Step by step, every event since Waterloo follows with logical\nconsistency from the teachings of Napoleon, formulated for the first\ntime, some twenty years afterwards, by this remarkable thinker.\n\nWhat Darwin accomplished for Biology generally Clausewitz did for the\nLife-History of Nations nearly half a century before him, for both have\nproved the existence of the same law in each case, viz., \u201cThe survival\nof the fittest\u201d\u2014the \u201cfittest,\u201d as Huxley long since pointed out, not\nbeing necessarily synonymous with the ethically \u201cbest.\u201d Neither of\nthese thinkers was concerned with the ethics of the struggle which each\nstudied so exhaustively, but to both men the phase or condition\npresented itself neither as moral nor immoral, any more than are\nfamine, disease, or other natural phenomena, but as emanating from a\nforce inherent in all living organisms which can only be mastered by\nunderstanding its nature. It is in that spirit that, one after the\nother, all the Nations of the Continent, taught by such drastic lessons\nas K\u00f6niggr\u00e4tz and Sedan, have accepted the lesson, with the result that\nto-day Europe is an armed camp, and _peace is maintained by the\nequilibrium of forces, and will continue just as long as this\nequilibrium exists, and no longer._\n\nWhether this state of equilibrium is in itself a good or desirable\nthing may be open to argument. I have discussed it at length in my \u201cWar\nand the World\u2019s Life\u201d; but I venture to suggest that to no one would a\nrenewal of the era of warfare be a change for the better, as far as\nexisting humanity is concerned. Meanwhile, however, with every year\nthat elapses the forces at present in equilibrium are changing in\nmagnitude\u2014the pressure of populations which have to be fed is rising,\nand an explosion along the line of least resistance is, sooner or\nlater, inevitable.\n\nAs I read the teaching of the recent Hague Conference, no responsible\nGovernment on the Continent is anxious to form in themselves that line\nof least resistance; _they_ know only too well what War would mean; and\nwe alone, absolutely unconscious of the trend of the dominant thought\nof Europe, are pulling down the dam which may at any moment let in on\nus the flood of invasion.\n\nNow no responsible man in Europe, perhaps least of all in Germany,\nthanks us for this voluntary destruction of our defences, for all who\nare of any importance would very much rather end their days in peace\nthan incur the burden of responsibility which War would entail. But\nthey realise that the gradual dissemination of the principles taught by\nClausewitz has created a condition of molecular tension in the minds of\nthe Nations they govern analogous to the \u201ccritical temperature of water\nheated above boiling-point under pressure,\u201d which may at any moment\nbring about an explosion which they will be powerless to control.\n\nThe case is identical with that of an ordinary steam boiler, delivering\nso and so many pounds of steam to its engines as long as the envelope\ncan contain the pressure; but let a breach in its continuity\narise\u2014relieving the boiling water of all restraint\u2014and in a moment the\nwhole mass flashes into vapour, developing a power no work of man can\noppose.\n\nThe ultimate consequences of defeat no man can foretell. The only way\nto avert them is to ensure victory; and, again following out the\nprinciples of Clausewitz, victory can only be ensured by the creation\nin peace of an organisation which will bring every available man,\nhorse, and gun (or ship and gun, if the war be on the sea) in the\nshortest possible time, and with the utmost possible momentum, upon the\ndecisive field of action\u2014which in turn leads to the final doctrine\nformulated by Von der Goltz in excuse for the action of the late\nPresident Kruger in 1899:\n\n\u201cThe Statesman who, knowing his instrument to be ready, and seeing War\ninevitable, hesitates to strike first is guilty of a crime against his\ncountry.\u201d\n\nIt is because this sequence of cause and effect is absolutely unknown\nto our Members of Parliament, elected by popular representation, that\nall our efforts to ensure a lasting peace by securing _efficiency with\neconomy_ in our National Defences have been rendered nugatory.\n\nThis estimate of the influence of Clausewitz\u2019s sentiments on\ncontemporary thought in Continental Europe may appear exaggerated to\nthose who have not familiarised themselves with M. Gustav de Bon\u2019s\nexposition of the laws governing the formation and conduct of crowds I\ndo not wish for one minute to be understood as asserting that\nClausewitz has been conscientiously studied and understood in _any_\nArmy, not even in the Prussian, but his work has been the ultimate\nfoundation on which every drill regulation in Europe, except our own,\nhas been reared. It is this ceaseless repetition of his fundamental\nideas to which one-half of the male population of every Continental\nNation has been subjected for two to three years of their lives, which\nhas tuned their minds to vibrate in harmony with his precepts, and\nthose who know and appreciate this fact at its true value have only to\nstrike the necessary chords in order to evoke a response sufficient to\noverpower any other ethical conception which those who have not\norganised their forces beforehand can appeal to.\n\nThe recent set-back experienced by the Socialists in Germany is an\nillustration of my position. The Socialist leaders of that country are\nfar behind the responsible Governors in their knowledge of the\nmanagement of crowds. The latter had long before (in 1893, in fact)\nmade their arrangements to prevent the spread of Socialistic propaganda\nbeyond certain useful limits. As long as the Socialists only threatened\ncapital they were not seriously interfered with, for the Government\nknew quite well that the undisputed sway of the employer was not for\nthe ultimate good of the State. The standard of comfort must not be\npitched too low if men are to be ready to die for their country. But\nthe moment the Socialists began to interfere seriously with the\ndiscipline of the Army the word went round, and the Socialists lost\nheavily at the polls.\n\nIf this power of predetermined reaction to acquired ideas can be evoked\nsuccessfully in a matter of internal interest only, in which the\n\u201cobvious interest\u201d of the vast majority of the population is so clearly\non the side of the Socialist, it must be evident how enormously greater\nit will prove when set in motion against an external enemy, where the\n\u201cobvious interest\u201d of the people is, from the very nature of things, as\nmanifestly on the side of the Government; and the Statesman who failed\nto take into account the force of the \u201cresultant thought wave\u201d of a\ncrowd of some seven million men, all trained to respond to their\nruler\u2019s call, would be guilty of treachery as grave as one who failed\nto strike when he knew the Army to be ready for immediate action.\n\nAs already pointed out, it is to the spread of Clausewitz\u2019s ideas that\nthe present state of more or less immediate readiness for war of all\nEuropean Armies is due, and since the organisation of these forces is\nuniform this \u201cmore or less\u201d of readiness exists in precise proportion\nto the sense of duty which animates the several Armies. Where the\nspirit of duty and self-sacrifice is low the troops are unready and\ninefficient; where, as in Prussia, these qualities, by the training of\na whole century, have become instinctive, troops really are ready to\nthe last button, and might be poured down upon any one of her\nneighbours with such rapidity that the very first collision must\nsuffice to ensure ultimate success\u2014a success by no means certain if the\nenemy, whoever he may be, is allowed breathing-time in which to set his\nhouse in order.\n\nAn example will make this clearer. In 1887 Germany was on the very\nverge of War with France and Russia. At that moment her superior\nefficiency, the consequence of this inborn sense of duty\u2014surely one of\nthe highest qualities of humanity\u2014was so great that it is more than\nprobable that less than six weeks would have sufficed to bring the\nFrench to their knees. Indeed, after the first fortnight it would have\nbeen possible to begin transferring troops from the Rhine to the\nNiemen; and the same case may arise again. But if France and Russia had\nbeen allowed even ten days\u2019 warning the German plan would have been\ncompletely defeated. France alone might then have claimed all the\nefforts that Germany could have put forth to defeat her.\n\nYet there are politicians in England so grossly ignorant of the German\nreading of the Napoleonic lessons that they expect that Nation to\nsacrifice the enormous advantage they have prepared by a whole century\nof self-sacrifice and practical patriotism by an appeal to a Court of\nArbitration, and the further delays which must arise by going through\nthe medieval formalities of recalling Ambassadors and exchanging\nultimatums.\n\nMost of our present-day politicians have made their money in business\u2014a\n\u201cform of human competition greatly resembling War,\u201d to paraphrase\nClausewitz. Did they, when in the throes of such competition, send\nformal notice to their rivals of their plans to get the better of them\nin commerce? Did Mr. Carnegie, the arch-priest of Peace at any price,\nwhen he built up the Steel Trust, notify his competitors when and how\nhe proposed to strike the blows which successively made him master of\nmillions? Surely the Directors of a Great Nation may consider the\ninterests of their shareholders\u2014i.e., the people they govern\u2014as\nsufficiently serious not to be endangered by the deliberate sacrifice\nof the preponderant position of readiness which generations of\nself-devotion, patriotism and wise forethought have won for them?\n\nAs regards the strictly military side of this work, though the recent\nresearches of the French General Staff into the records and documents\nof the Napoleonic period have shown conclusively that Clausewitz had\nnever grasped the essential point of the Great Emperor\u2019s strategic\nmethod, yet it is admitted that he has completely fathomed the spirit\nwhich gave life to the form; and notwithstanding the variations in\napplication which have resulted from the progress of invention in every\nfield of national activity (not in the technical improvements in\narmament alone), this spirit still remains the essential factor in the\nwhole matter. Indeed, if anything, modern appliances have intensified\nits importance, for though, with equal armaments on both sides, the\nform of battles must always remain the same, the facility and certainty\nof combination which better methods of communicating orders and\nintelligence have conferred upon the Commanders has rendered the\ncontrol of great masses immeasurably more certain than it was in the\npast.\n\nMen kill each other at greater distances, it is true\u2014but killing is a\nconstant factor in all battles. The difference between \u201cnow and then\u201d\nlies in this, that, thanks to the enormous increase in range (the\nessential feature in modern armaments), it is possible to concentrate\nby surprise, on any chosen spot, a man-killing power fully twentyfold\ngreater than was conceivable in the days of Waterloo; and whereas in\nNapoleon\u2019s time this concentration of man-killing power (which in his\nhands took the form of the great case-shot attack) depended almost\nentirely on the shape and condition of the ground, which might or might\nnot be favourable, nowadays such concentration of fire-power is almost\nindependent of the country altogether.\n\nThus, at Waterloo, Napoleon was compelled to wait till the ground\nbecame firm enough for his guns to gallop over; nowadays every gun at\nhis disposal, and five times that number had he possessed them, might\nhave opened on any point in the British position he had selected, as\nsoon as it became light enough to see.\n\nOr, to take a more modern instance, viz., the battle of St.\nPrivat-Gravelotte, August 18, 1870, where the Germans were able to\nconcentrate on both wings batteries of two hundred guns and upwards, it\nwould have been practically impossible, owing to the section of the\nslopes of the French position, to carry out the old-fashioned case-shot\nattack at all. Nowadays there would be no difficulty in turning on the\nfire of two thousand guns on any point of the position, and switching\nthis fire up and down the line like water from a fire-engine hose, if\nthe occasion demanded such concentration.\n\nBut these alterations in method make no difference in the truth of the\npicture of War which Clausewitz presents, with which every soldier, and\nabove all every Leader, should be saturated.\n\nDeath, wounds, suffering, and privation remain the same, whatever the\nweapons employed, and their reaction on the ultimate nature of man is\nthe same now as in the struggle a century ago. It is this reaction that\nthe Great Commander has to understand and prepare himself to control;\nand the task becomes ever greater as, fortunately for humanity, the\nopportunities for gathering experience become more rare.\n\nIn the end, and with every improvement in science, the result depends\nmore and more on the character of the Leader and his power of resisting\n\u201cthe sensuous impressions of the battlefield.\u201d Finally, for those who\nwould fit themselves in advance for such responsibility, I know of no\nmore inspiring advice than that given by Krishna to Arjuna ages ago,\nwhen the latter trembled before the awful responsibility of launching\nhis Army against the hosts of the Pandav\u2019s:\n\nThis Life within all living things, my Prince,\nHides beyond harm. Scorn thou to suffer, then,\nFor that which cannot suffer. Do thy part!\nBe mindful of thy name, and tremble not.\nNought better can betide a martial soul\nThan lawful war. Happy the warrior\nTo whom comes joy of battle....\n. . . But if thou shunn'st\nThis honourable field\u2014a Kshittriya\u2014\nIf, knowing thy duty and thy task, thou bidd'st\nDuty and task go by\u2014that shall be sin!\nAnd those to come shall speak thee infamy\nFrom age to age. But infamy is worse\nFor men of noble blood to bear than death!\n.   .    .    .    .    .\nTherefore arise, thou Son of Kunti! Brace\nThine arm for conflict; nerve thy heart to meet,\nAs things alike to thee, pleasure or pain,\nProfit or ruin, victory or defeat.\nSo minded, gird thee to the fight, for so\nThou shalt not sin!\n\n\nCOL. F. N. MAUDE, C.B., _late_ R.E.\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION\n\nIt will naturally excite surprise that a preface by a female hand\nshould accompany a work on such a subject as the present. For my\nfriends no explanation of the circumstance is required; but I hope by a\nsimple relation of the cause to clear myself of the appearance of\npresumption in the eyes also of those to whom I am not known.\n\nThe work to which these lines serve as a preface occupied almost\nentirely the last twelve years of the life of my inexpressibly beloved\nhusband, who has unfortunately been torn too soon from myself and his\ncountry. To complete it was his most earnest desire; but it was not his\nintention that it should be published during his life; and if I tried\nto persuade him to alter that intention, he often answered, half in\njest, but also, perhaps, half in a foreboding of early death: \u201c_Thou_\nshalt publish it.\u201d These words (which in those happy days often drew\ntears from me, little as I was inclined to attach a serious meaning to\nthem) make it now, in the opinion of my friends, a duty incumbent on me\nto introduce the posthumous works of my beloved husband, with a few\nprefatory lines from myself; and although here may be a difference of\nopinion on this point, still I am sure there will be no mistake as to\nthe feeling which has prompted me to overcome the timidity which makes\nany such appearance, even in a subordinate part, so difficult for a\nwoman.\n\nIt will be understood, as a matter of course, that I cannot have the\nmost remote intention of considering myself as the real editress of a\nwork which is far above the scope of my capacity: I only stand at its\nside as an affectionate companion on its entrance into the world. This\nposition I may well claim, as a similar one was allowed me during its\nformation and progress. Those who are acquainted with our happy married\nlife, and know how we shared _everything_ with each other\u2014not only joy\nand sorrow, but also every occupation, every interest of daily\nlife\u2014will understand that my beloved husband could not be occupied on a\nwork of this kind without its being known to me. Therefore, no one can\nlike me bear testimony to the zeal, to the love with which he laboured\non it, to the hopes which he bound up with it, as well as the manner\nand time of its elaboration. His richly gifted mind had from his early\nyouth longed for light and truth, and, varied as were his talents,\nstill he had chiefly directed his reflections to the science of war, to\nwhich the duties of his profession called him, and which are of such\nimportance for the benefit of States. Scharnhorst was the first to lead\nhim into the right road, and his subsequent appointment in 1810 as\nInstructor at the General War School, as well as the honour conferred\non him at the same time of giving military instruction to H.R.H. the\nCrown Prince, tended further to give his investigations and studies\nthat direction, and to lead him to put down in writing whatever\nconclusions he arrived at. A paper with which he finished the\ninstruction of H.R.H. the Crown Prince contains the germ of his\nsubsequent works. But it was in the year 1816, at Coblentz, that he\nfirst devoted himself again to scientific labours, and to collecting\nthe fruits which his rich experience in those four eventful years had\nbrought to maturity. He wrote down his views, in the first place, in\nshort essays, only loosely connected with each other. The following,\nwithout date, which has been found amongst his papers, seems to belong\nto those early days.\n\n\u201cIn the principles here committed to paper, in my opinion, the chief\nthings which compose Strategy, as it is called, are touched upon. I\nlooked upon them only as materials, and had just got to such a length\ntowards the moulding them into a whole.\n\n\u201cThese materials have been amassed without any regularly preconceived\nplan. My view was at first, without regard to system and strict\nconnection, to put down the results of my reflections upon the most\nimportant points in quite brief, precise, compact propositions. The\nmanner in which Montesquieu has treated his subject floated before me\nin idea. I thought that concise, sententious chapters, which I proposed\nat first to call grains, would attract the attention of the intelligent\njust as much by that which was to be developed from them, as by that\nwhich they contained in themselves. I had, therefore, before me in\nidea, intelligent readers already acquainted with the subject. But my\nnature, which always impels me to development and systematising, at\nlast worked its way out also in this instance. For some time I was able\nto confine myself to extracting only the most important results from\nthe essays, which, to attain clearness and conviction in my own mind, I\nwrote upon different subjects, to concentrating in that manner their\nspirit in a small compass; but afterwards my peculiarity gained\nascendency completely\u2014I have developed what I could, and thus naturally\nhave supposed a reader not yet acquainted with the subject.\n\n\u201cThe more I advanced with the work, and the more I yielded to the\nspirit of investigation, so much the more I was also led to system; and\nthus, then, chapter after chapter has been inserted.\n\n\u201cMy ultimate view has now been to go through the whole once more, to\nestablish by further explanation much of the earlier treatises, and\nperhaps to condense into results many analyses on the later ones, and\nthus to make a moderate whole out of it, forming a small octavo volume.\nBut it was my wish also in this to avoid everything common, everything\nthat is plain of itself, that has been said a hundred times, and is\ngenerally accepted; for my ambition was to write a book that would not\nbe forgotten in two or three years, and which any one interested in the\nsubject would at all events take up more than once.\u201d\n\nIn Coblentz, where he was much occupied with duty, he could only give\noccasional hours to his private studies. It was not until 1818, after\nhis appointment as Director of the General Academy of War at Berlin,\nthat he had the leisure to expand his work, and enrich it from the\nhistory of modern wars. This leisure also reconciled him to his new\navocation, which, in other respects, was not satisfactory to him, as,\naccording to the existing organisation of the Academy, the scientific\npart of the course is not under the Director, but conducted by a Board\nof Studies. Free as he was from all petty vanity, from every feeling of\nrestless, egotistical ambition, still he felt a desire to be really\nuseful, and not to leave inactive the abilities with which God had\nendowed him. In active life he was not in a position in which this\nlonging could be satisfied, and he had little hope of attaining to any\nsuch position: his whole energies were therefore directed upon the\ndomain of science, and the benefit which he hoped to lay the foundation\nof by his work was the object of his life. That, notwithstanding this,\nthe resolution not to let the work appear until after his death became\nmore confirmed is the best proof that no vain, paltry longing for\npraise and distinction, no particle of egotistical views, was mixed up\nwith this noble aspiration for great and lasting usefulness.\n\nThus he worked diligently on, until, in the spring of 1830, he was\nappointed to the artillery, and his energies were called into activity\nin such a different sphere, and to such a high degree, that he was\nobliged, for the moment at least, to give up all literary work. He then\nput his papers in order, sealed up the separate packets, labelled them,\nand took sorrowful leave of this employment which he loved so much. He\nwas sent to Breslau in August of the same year, as Chief of the Second\nArtillery District, but in December recalled to Berlin, and appointed\nChief of the Staff to Field-Marshal Count Gneisenau (for the term of\nhis command). In March 1831, he accompanied his revered Commander to\nPosen. When he returned from there to Breslau in November after the\nmelancholy event which had taken place, he hoped to resume his work and\nperhaps complete it in the course of the winter. The Almighty has\nwilled it should be otherwise. On the 7th November he returned to\nBreslau; on the 16th he was no more; and the packets sealed by himself\nwere not opened until after his death.\n\nThe papers thus left are those now made public in the following\nvolumes, exactly in the condition in which they were found, without a\nword being added or erased. Still, however, there was much to do before\npublication, in the way of putting them in order and consulting about\nthem; and I am deeply indebted to several sincere friends for the\nassistance they have afforded me, particularly Major O\u2019Etzel, who\nkindly undertook the correction of the Press, as well as the\npreparation of the maps to accompany the historical parts of the work.\nI must also mention my much-loved brother, who was my support in the\nhour of my misfortune, and who has also done much for me in respect of\nthese papers; amongst other things, by carefully examining and putting\nthem in order, he found the commencement of the revision which my dear\nhusband _wrote in the year_ 1827, and mentions in the _Notice_\nhereafter annexed as a work he had in view. This revision has been\ninserted in the place intended for it in the first book (for it does\nnot go any further).\n\nThere are still many other friends to whom I might offer my thanks for\ntheir advice, for the sympathy and friendship which they have shown me;\nbut if I do not name them all, they will, I am sure, not have any\ndoubts of my sincere gratitude. It is all the greater, from my firm\nconviction that all they have done was not only on my own account, but\nfor the friend whom God has thus called away from them so soon.\n\nIf I have been highly blessed as the wife of such a man during one and\ntwenty years, so am I still, notwithstanding my irreparable loss, by\nthe treasure of my recollections and of my hopes, by the rich legacy of\nsympathy and friendship which I owe the beloved departed, by the\nelevating feeling which I experience at seeing his rare worth so\ngenerally and honourably acknowledged.\n\nThe trust confided to me by a Royal Couple is a fresh benefit for which\nI have to thank the Almighty, as it opens to me an honourable\noccupation, to which I devote myself. May this occupation be blessed,\nand may the dear little Prince who is now entrusted to my care, some\nday read this book, and be animated by it to deeds like those of his\nglorious ancestors.\n\nWritten at the Marble Palace, Potsdam, 30th June, 1832.\n\n\nMARIE VON CLAUSEWITZ,\n_Born_ Countess Br\u00fchl,\nOberhofmeisterinn to H.R.H. the Princess William.\n\n\n\nNOTICE\n\nI look upon the first six books, of which a fair copy has now been\nmade, as only a mass which is still in a manner without form, and which\nhas yet to be again revised. In this revision the two kinds of War will\nbe everywhere kept more distinctly in view, by which all ideas will\nacquire a clearer meaning, a more precise direction, and a closer\napplication. The two kinds of War are, first, those in which the object\nis the _overthrow of the enemy_, whether it be that we aim at his\ndestruction, politically, or merely at disarming him and forcing him to\nconclude peace on our terms; and next, those in which our object is\n_merely to make some conquests on the frontiers of his country_, either\nfor the purpose of retaining them permanently, or of turning them to\naccount as matter of exchange in the settlement of a peace. Transition\nfrom one kind to the other must certainly continue to exist, but the\ncompletely different nature of the tendencies of the two must\neverywhere appear, and must separate from each other things which are\nincompatible.\n\nBesides establishing this real difference in Wars, another practically\nnecessary point of view must at the same time be established, which is,\nthat _War is only a continuation of State policy by other means_. This\npoint of view being adhered to everywhere, will introduce much more\nunity into the consideration of the subject, and things will be more\neasily disentangled from each other. Although the chief application of\nthis point of view does not commence until we get to the eighth book,\nstill it must be completely developed in the first book, and also lend\nassistance throughout the revision of the first six books. Through such\na revision the first six books will get rid of a good deal of dross,\nmany rents and chasms will be closed up, and much that is of a general\nnature will be transformed into distinct conceptions and forms.\n\nThe seventh book\u2014on attack\u2014for the different chapters of which sketches\nare already made, is to be considered as a reflection of the sixth, and\nmust be completed at once, according to the above-mentioned more\ndistinct points of view, so that it will require no fresh revision, but\nrather may serve as a model in the revision of the first six books.\n\nFor the eighth book\u2014on the _Plan of a War_, that is, of the\norganisation of a whole War in general\u2014several chapters are designed,\nbut they are not at all to be regarded as real materials, they are\nmerely a track, roughly cleared, as it were, through the mass, in order\nby that means to ascertain the points of most importance. They have\nanswered this object, and I propose, on finishing the seventh book, to\nproceed at once to the working out of the eighth, where the two points\nof view above mentioned will be chiefly affirmed, by which everything\nwill be simplified, and at the same time have a spirit breathed into\nit. I hope in this book to iron out many creases in the heads of\nstrategists and statesmen, and at least to show the object of action,\nand the real point to be considered in War.\n\nNow, when I have brought my ideas clearly out by finishing this eighth\nbook, and have properly established the leading features of War, it\nwill be easier for me to carry the spirit of these ideas in to the\nfirst six books, and to make these same features show themselves\neverywhere. Therefore I shall defer till then the revision of the first\nsix books.\n\nShould the work be interrupted by my death, then what is found can only\nbe called a mass of conceptions not brought into form; but as these are\nopen to endless misconceptions, they will doubtless give rise to a\nnumber of crude criticisms: for in these things, every one thinks, when\nhe takes up his pen, that whatever comes into his head is worth saying\nand printing, and quite as incontrovertible as that twice two make\nfour. If such a one would take the pains, as I have done, to think over\nthe subject, for years, and to compare his ideas with military history,\nhe would certainly be a little more guarded in his criticism.\n\nStill, notwithstanding this imperfect form, I believe that an impartial\nreader thirsting for truth and conviction will rightly appreciate in\nthe first six books the fruits of several years\u2019 reflection and a\ndiligent study of War, and that, perhaps, he will find in them some\nleading ideas which may bring about a revolution in the theory of War.\n\n_Berlin_, 10_th July_, 1827.\n\n\nBesides this notice, amongst the papers left the following unfinished\nmemorandum was found, which appears of very recent date:\n\nThe manuscript on the conduct of the _Grande Guerre_, which will be\nfound after my death, in its present state can only be regarded as a\ncollection of materials from which it is intended to construct a theory\nof War. With the greater part I am not yet satisfied; and the sixth\nbook is to be looked at as a mere essay: I should have completely\nremodelled it, and have tried a different line.\n\nBut the ruling principles which pervade these materials I hold to be\nthe right ones: they are the result of a very varied reflection,\nkeeping always in view the reality, and always bearing in mind what I\nhave learnt by experience and by my intercourse with distinguished\nsoldiers.\n\nThe seventh book is to contain the attack, the subjects of which are\nthrown together in a hasty manner: the eighth, the plan for a War, in\nwhich I would have examined War more especially in its political and\nhuman aspects.\n\nThe first chapter of the first book is the only one which I consider as\ncompleted; it will at least serve to show the manner in which I\nproposed to treat the subject throughout.\n\nThe theory of the _Grande Guerre_, or Strategy, as it is called, is\nbeset with extraordinary difficulties, and we may affirm that very few\nmen have clear conceptions of the separate subjects, that is,\nconceptions carried up to their full logical conclusions. In real\naction most men are guided merely by the tact of judgment which hits\nthe object more or less accurately, according as they possess more or\nless genius.\n\nThis is the way in which all great Generals have acted, and therein\npartly lay their greatness and their genius, that they always hit upon\nwhat was right by this tact. Thus also it will always be in action, and\nso far this tact is amply sufficient. But when it is a question, not of\nacting oneself, but of convincing others in a consultation, then all\ndepends on clear conceptions and demonstration of the inherent\nrelations, and so little progress has been made in this respect that\nmost deliberations are merely a contention of words, resting on no firm\nbasis, and ending either in every one retaining his own opinion, or in\na compromise from mutual considerations of respect, a middle course\nreally without any value.(*)\n\n(*) Herr Clausewitz evidently had before his mind the endless\nconsultations at the Headquarters of the Bohemian Army in the Leipsic\nCampaign 1813.\n\n\nClear ideas on these matters are therefore not wholly useless; besides,\nthe human mind has a general tendency to clearness, and always wants to\nbe consistent with the necessary order of things.\n\nOwing to the great difficulties attending a philosophical construction\nof the Art of War, and the many attempts at it that have failed, most\npeople have come to the conclusion that such a theory is impossible,\nbecause it concerns things which no standing law can embrace. We should\nalso join in this opinion and give up any attempt at a theory, were it\nnot that a great number of propositions make themselves evident without\nany difficulty, as, for instance, that the defensive form, with a\nnegative object, is the stronger form, the attack, with the positive\nobject, the weaker\u2014that great results carry the little ones with\nthem\u2014that, therefore, strategic effects may be referred to certain\ncentres of gravity\u2014that a demonstration is a weaker application of\nforce than a real attack, that, therefore, there must be some special\nreason for resorting to the former\u2014that victory consists not merely in\nthe conquest on the field of battle, but in the destruction of armed\nforces, physically and morally, which can in general only be effected\nby a pursuit after the battle is gained\u2014that successes are always\ngreatest at the point where the victory has been gained, that,\ntherefore, the change from one line and object to another can only be\nregarded as a necessary evil\u2014that a turning movement is only justified\nby a superiority of numbers generally or by the advantage of our lines\nof communication and retreat over those of the enemy\u2014that flank\npositions are only justifiable on similar grounds\u2014that every attack\nbecomes weaker as it progresses.\n\n\n\nTHE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR\n\nThat the conception of the scientific does not consist alone, or\nchiefly, in system, and its finished theoretical constructions,\nrequires nowadays no exposition. System in this treatise is not to be\nfound on the surface, and instead of a finished building of theory,\nthere are only materials.\n\nThe scientific form lies here in the endeavour to explore the nature of\nmilitary phenomena to show their affinity with the nature of the things\nof which they are composed. Nowhere has the philosophical argument been\nevaded, but where it runs out into too thin a thread the Author has\npreferred to cut it short, and fall back upon the corresponding results\nof experience; for in the same way as many plants only bear fruit when\nthey do not shoot too high, so in the practical arts the theoretical\nleaves and flowers must not be made to sprout too far, but kept near to\nexperience, which is their proper soil.\n\nUnquestionably it would be a mistake to try to discover from the\nchemical ingredients of a grain of corn the form of the ear of corn\nwhich it bears, as we have only to go to the field to see the ears\nripe. Investigation and observation, philosophy and experience, must\nneither despise nor exclude one another; they mutually afford each\nother the rights of citizenship. Consequently, the propositions of this\nbook, with their arch of inherent necessity, are supported either by\nexperience or by the conception of War itself as external points, so\nthat they are not without abutments.(*)\n\n(*) That this is not the case in the works of many military writers\nespecially of those who have aimed at treating of War itself in a\nscientific manner, is shown in many instances, in which by their\nreasoning, the pro and contra swallow each other up so effectually that\nthere is no vestige of the tails even which were left in the case of\nthe two lions.\n\n\nIt is, perhaps, not impossible to write a systematic theory of War full\nof spirit and substance, but ours hitherto, have been very much the\nreverse. To say nothing of their unscientific spirit, in their striving\nafter coherence and completeness of system, they overflow with\ncommonplaces, truisms, and twaddle of every kind. If we want a striking\npicture of them we have only to read Lichtenberg\u2019s extract from a code\nof regulations in case of fire.\n\nIf a house takes fire, we must seek, above all things, to protect the\nright side of the house standing on the left, and, on the other hand,\nthe left side of the house on the right; for if we, for example, should\nprotect the left side of the house on the left, then the right side of\nthe house lies to the right of the left, and consequently as the fire\nlies to the right of this side, and of the right side (for we have\nassumed that the house is situated to the left of the fire), therefore\nthe right side is situated nearer to the fire than the left, and the\nright side of the house might catch fire if it was not protected before\nit came to the left, which is protected. Consequently, something might\nbe burnt that is not protected, and that sooner than something else\nwould be burnt, even if it was not protected; consequently we must let\nalone the latter and protect the former. In order to impress the thing\non one\u2019s mind, we have only to note if the house is situated to the\nright of the fire, then it is the left side, and if the house is to the\nleft it is the right side.\n\nIn order not to frighten the intelligent reader by such commonplaces,\nand to make the little good that there is distasteful by pouring water\nupon it, the Author has preferred to give in small ingots of fine metal\nhis impressions and convictions, the result of many years\u2019 reflection\non War, of his intercourse with men of ability, and of much personal\nexperience. Thus the seemingly weakly bound-together chapters of this\nbook have arisen, but it is hoped they will not be found wanting in\nlogical connection. Perhaps soon a greater head may appear, and instead\nof these single grains, give the whole in a casting of pure metal\nwithout dross.\n\n\n\nBRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ\n(BY TRANSLATOR)\n\nThe Author of the work here translated, General Carl Von Clausewitz,\nwas born at Burg, near Magdeburg, in 1780, and entered the Prussian\nArmy as Fahnenjunker (_i.e._, ensign) in 1792. He served in the\ncampaigns of 1793-94 on the Rhine, after which he seems to have devoted\nsome time to the study of the scientific branches of his profession. In\n1801 he entered the Military School at Berlin, and remained there till\n1803. During his residence there he attracted the notice of General\nScharnhorst, then at the head of the establishment; and the patronage\nof this distinguished officer had immense influence on his future\ncareer, and we may gather from his writings that he ever afterwards\ncontinued to entertain a high esteem for Scharnhorst. In the campaign\nof 1806 he served as Aide-de-camp to Prince Augustus of Prussia; and\nbeing wounded and taken prisoner, he was sent into France until the\nclose of that war. On his return, he was placed on General\nScharnhorst\u2019s Staff, and employed in the work then going on for the\nreorganisation of the Army. He was also at this time selected as\nmilitary instructor to the late King of Prussia, then Crown Prince. In\n1812 Clausewitz, with several other Prussian officers, having entered\nthe Russian service, his first appointment was as Aide-de-camp to\nGeneral Phul. Afterwards, while serving with Wittgenstein\u2019s army, he\nassisted in negotiating the famous convention of Tauroggen with York.\nOf the part he took in that affair he has left an interesting account\nin his work on the \u201cRussian Campaign.\u201d It is there stated that, in\norder to bring the correspondence which had been carried on with York\nto a termination in one way or another, the Author was despatched to\nYork\u2019s headquarters with two letters, one was from General d\u2019Auvray,\nthe Chief of the Staff of Wittgenstein\u2019s army, to General Diebitsch,\nshowing the arrangements made to cut off York\u2019s corps from Macdonald\n(this was necessary in order to give York a plausible excuse for\nseceding from the French); the other was an intercepted letter from\nMacdonald to the Duke of Bassano. With regard to the former of these,\nthe Author says, \u201cit would not have had weight with a man like York,\nbut for a military justification, if the Prussian Court should require\none as against the French, it was important.\u201d\n\nThe second letter was calculated at the least to call up in General\nYork\u2019s mind all the feelings of bitterness which perhaps for some days\npast had been diminished by the consciousness of his own behaviour\ntowards the writer.\n\nAs the Author entered General York\u2019s chamber, the latter called out to\nhim, \u201cKeep off from me; I will have nothing more to do with you; your\nd\u2014\u2014d Cossacks have let a letter of Macdonald\u2019s pass through them, which\nbrings me an order to march on Piktrepohnen, in order there to effect\nour junction. All doubt is now at an end; your troops do not come up;\nyou are too weak; march I must, and I must excuse myself from further\nnegotiation, which may cost me my head.\u201d The Author said that he would\nmake no opposition to all this, but begged for a candle, as he had\nletters to show the General, and, as the latter seemed still to\nhesitate, the Author added, \u201cYour Excellency will not surely place me\nin the embarrassment of departing without having executed my\ncommission.\u201d The General ordered candles, and called in Colonel von\nRoeder, the chief of his staff, from the ante-chamber. The letters were\nread. After a pause of an instant, the General said, \u201cClausewitz, you\nare a Prussian, do you believe that the letter of General d\u2019Auvray is\nsincere, and that Wittgenstein\u2019s troops will really be at the points he\nmentioned on the 31st?\u201d The Author replied, \u201cI pledge myself for the\nsincerity of this letter upon the knowledge I have of General d\u2019Auvray\nand the other men of Wittgenstein\u2019s headquarters; whether the\ndispositions he announces can be accomplished as he lays down I\ncertainly cannot pledge myself; for your Excellency knows that in war\nwe must often fall short of the line we have drawn for ourselves.\u201d The\nGeneral was silent for a few minutes of earnest reflection; then he\nheld out his hand to the Author, and said, \u201cYou have me. Tell General\nDiebitsch that we must confer early to-morrow at the mill of Poschenen,\nand that I am now firmly determined to separate myself from the French\nand their cause.\u201d The hour was fixed for 8 A.M. After this was settled,\nthe General added, \u201cBut I will not do the thing by halves, I will get\nyou Massenbach also.\u201d He called in an officer who was of Massenbach\u2019s\ncavalry, and who had just left them. Much like Schiller\u2019s Wallenstein,\nhe asked, walking up and down the room the while, \u201cWhat say your\nregiments?\u201d The officer broke out with enthusiasm at the idea of a\nriddance from the French alliance, and said that every man of the\ntroops in question felt the same.\n\n\u201cYou young ones may talk; but my older head is shaking on my\nshoulders,\u201d replied the General.(*)\n\n(*) \u201cCampaign in Russia in 1812\u201d; translated from the German of General\nVon Clausewitz (by Lord Ellesmere).\n\n\nAfter the close of the Russian campaign Clausewitz remained in the\nservice of that country, but was attached as a Russian staff officer to\nBl\u00fccher\u2019s headquarters till the Armistice in 1813.\n\nIn 1814, he became Chief of the Staff of General Walmoden\u2019s\nRusso-German Corps, which formed part of the Army of the North under\nBernadotte. His name is frequently mentioned with distinction in that\ncampaign, particularly in connection with the affair of Goehrde.\n\nClausewitz re-entered the Prussian service in 1815, and served as Chief\nof the Staff to Thielman\u2019s corps, which was engaged with Grouchy at\nWavre, on the 18th of June.\n\nAfter the Peace, he was employed in a command on the Rhine. In 1818, he\nbecame Major-General, and Director of the Military School at which he\nhad been previously educated.\n\nIn 1830, he was appointed Inspector of Artillery at Breslau, but soon\nafter nominated Chief of the Staff to the Army of Observation, under\nMarshal Gneisenau on the Polish frontier.\n\nThe latest notices of his life and services are probably to be found in\nthe memoirs of General Brandt, who, from being on the staff of\nGneisenau\u2019s army, was brought into daily intercourse with Clausewitz in\nmatters of duty, and also frequently met him at the table of Marshal\nGneisenau, at Posen.\n\nAmongst other anecdotes, General Brandt relates that, upon one\noccasion, the conversation at the Marshal\u2019s table turned upon a sermon\npreached by a priest, in which some great absurdities were introduced,\nand a discussion arose as to whether the Bishop should not be made\nresponsible for what the priest had said. This led to the topic of\ntheology in general, when General Brandt, speaking of himself, says, \u201cI\nexpressed an opinion that theology is only to be regarded as an\nhistorical process, as a _moment_ in the gradual development of the\nhuman race. This brought upon me an attack from all quarters, but more\nespecially from Clausewitz, who ought to have been on my side, he\nhaving been an adherent and pupil of Kiesewetter\u2019s, who had\nindoctrinated him in the philosophy of Kant, certainly diluted\u2014I might\neven say in hom\u0153opathic doses.\u201d This anecdote is only interesting as\nthe mention of Kiesewetter points to a circumstance in the life of\nClausewitz that may have had an influence in forming those habits of\nthought which distinguish his writings.\n\n\u201cThe way,\u201d says General Brandt, \u201cin which General Clausewitz judged of\nthings, drew conclusions from movements and marches, calculated the\ntimes of the marches, and the points where decisions would take place,\nwas extremely interesting. Fate has unfortunately denied him an\nopportunity of showing his talents in high command, but I have a firm\npersuasion that as a strategist he would have greatly distinguished\nhimself. As a leader on the field of battle, on the other hand, he\nwould not have been so much in his right place, from a _manque\nd\u2019habitude du commandement_, he wanted the art _d\u2019enlever les\ntroupes_.\u201d\n\nAfter the Prussian Army of Observation was dissolved, Clausewitz\nreturned to Breslau, and a few days after his arrival was seized with\ncholera, the seeds of which he must have brought with him from the army\non the Polish frontier. His death took place in November 1831.\n\nHis writings are contained in nine volumes, published after his death,\nbut his fame rests most upon the three volumes forming his treatise on\n\u201cWar.\u201d In the present attempt to render into English this portion of\nthe works of Clausewitz, the translator is sensible of many\ndeficiencies, but he hopes at all events to succeed in making this\ncelebrated treatise better known in England, believing, as he does,\nthat so far as the work concerns the interests of this country, it has\nlost none of the importance it possessed at the time of its first\npublication.\n\nJ. J. GRAHAM (_Col._)\n\n\n\nBOOK I. ON THE NATURE OF WAR\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. What is War?\n\n1. INTRODUCTION.\n\n\nWe propose to consider first the single elements of our subject, then\neach branch or part, and, last of all, the whole, in all its\nrelations\u2014therefore to advance from the simple to the complex. But it\nis necessary for us to commence with a glance at the nature of the\nwhole, because it is particularly necessary that in the consideration\nof any of the parts their relation to the whole should be kept\nconstantly in view.\n\n2. DEFINITION.\n\n\nWe shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions of War used by\npublicists. We shall keep to the element of the thing itself, to a\nduel. War is nothing but a duel on an extensive scale. If we would\nconceive as a unit the countless number of duels which make up a War,\nwe shall do so best by supposing to ourselves two wrestlers. Each\nstrives by physical force to compel the other to submit to his will:\neach endeavours to throw his adversary, and thus render him incapable\nof further resistance.\n\n_War therefore is an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to\nfulfil our will._\n\nViolence arms itself with the inventions of Art and Science in order to\ncontend against violence. Self-imposed restrictions, almost\nimperceptible and hardly worth mentioning, termed usages of\nInternational Law, accompany it without essentially impairing its\npower. Violence, that is to say, physical force (for there is no moral\nforce without the conception of States and Law), is therefore the\n_means;_ the compulsory submission of the enemy to our will is the\nultimate object. In order to attain this object fully, the enemy must\nbe disarmed, and disarmament becomes therefore the immediate _object_\nof hostilities in theory. It takes the place of the final object, and\nputs it aside as something we can eliminate from our calculations.\n\n3. UTMOST USE OF FORCE.\n\n\nNow, philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skilful method of\ndisarming and overcoming an enemy without great bloodshed, and that\nthis is the proper tendency of the Art of War. However plausible this\nmay appear, still it is an error which must be extirpated; for in such\ndangerous things as War, the errors which proceed from a spirit of\nbenevolence are the worst. As the use of physical power to the utmost\nextent by no means excludes the co-operation of the intelligence, it\nfollows that he who uses force unsparingly, without reference to the\nbloodshed involved, must obtain a superiority if his adversary uses\nless vigour in its application. The former then dictates the law to the\nlatter, and both proceed to extremities to which the only limitations\nare those imposed by the amount of counter-acting force on each side.\n\nThis is the way in which the matter must be viewed and it is to no\npurpose, it is even against one\u2019s own interest, to turn away from the\nconsideration of the real nature of the affair because the horror of\nits elements excites repugnance.\n\nIf the Wars of civilised people are less cruel and destructive than\nthose of savages, the difference arises from the social condition both\nof States in themselves and in their relations to each other. Out of\nthis social condition and its relations War arises, and by it War is\nsubjected to conditions, is controlled and modified. But these things\ndo not belong to War itself; they are only given conditions; and to\nintroduce into the philosophy of War itself a principle of moderation\nwould be an absurdity.\n\nTwo motives lead men to War: instinctive hostility and hostile\nintention. In our definition of War, we have chosen as its\ncharacteristic the latter of these elements, because it is the most\ngeneral. It is impossible to conceive the passion of hatred of the\nwildest description, bordering on mere instinct, without combining with\nit the idea of a hostile intention. On the other hand, hostile\nintentions may often exist without being accompanied by any, or at all\nevents by any extreme, hostility of feeling. Amongst savages views\nemanating from the feelings, amongst civilised nations those emanating\nfrom the understanding, have the predominance; but this difference\narises from attendant circumstances, existing institutions, &c., and,\ntherefore, is not to be found necessarily in all cases, although it\nprevails in the majority. In short, even the most civilised nations may\nburn with passionate hatred of each other.\n\nWe may see from this what a fallacy it would be to refer the War of a\ncivilised nation entirely to an intelligent act on the part of the\nGovernment, and to imagine it as continually freeing itself more and\nmore from all feeling of passion in such a way that at last the\nphysical masses of combatants would no longer be required; in reality,\ntheir mere relations would suffice\u2014a kind of algebraic action.\n\nTheory was beginning to drift in this direction until the facts of the\nlast War(*) taught it better. If War is an _act_ of force, it belongs\nnecessarily also to the feelings. If it does not originate in the\nfeelings, it _reacts_, more or less, upon them, and the extent of this\nreaction depends not on the degree of civilisation, but upon the\nimportance and duration of the interests involved.\n\n(*) Clausewitz alludes here to the \u201cWars of Liberation,\u201d 1813, 14, 15.\n\n\nTherefore, if we find civilised nations do not put their prisoners to\ndeath, do not devastate towns and countries, this is because their\nintelligence exercises greater influence on their mode of carrying on\nWar, and has taught them more effectual means of applying force than\nthese rude acts of mere instinct. The invention of gunpowder, the\nconstant progress of improvements in the construction of firearms, are\nsufficient proofs that the tendency to destroy the adversary which lies\nat the bottom of the conception of War is in no way changed or modified\nthrough the progress of civilisation.\n\nWe therefore repeat our proposition, that War is an act of violence\npushed to its utmost bounds; as one side dictates the law to the other,\nthere arises a sort of reciprocal action, which logically must lead to\nan extreme. This is the first reciprocal action, and the first extreme\nwith which we meet (_first reciprocal action_).\n\n4. THE AIM IS TO DISARM THE ENEMY.\n\n\nWe have already said that the aim of all action in War is to disarm the\nenemy, and we shall now show that this, theoretically at least, is\nindispensable.\n\nIf our opponent is to be made to comply with our will, we must place\nhim in a situation which is more oppressive to him than the sacrifice\nwhich we demand; but the disadvantages of this position must naturally\nnot be of a transitory nature, at least in appearance, otherwise the\nenemy, instead of yielding, will hold out, in the prospect of a change\nfor the better. Every change in this position which is produced by a\ncontinuation of the War should therefore be a change for the worse. The\nworst condition in which a belligerent can be placed is that of being\ncompletely disarmed. If, therefore, the enemy is to be reduced to\nsubmission by an act of War, he must either be positively disarmed or\nplaced in such a position that he is threatened with it. From this it\nfollows that the disarming or overthrow of the enemy, whichever we call\nit, must always be the aim of Warfare. Now War is always the shock of\ntwo hostile bodies in collision, not the action of a living power upon\nan inanimate mass, because an absolute state of endurance would not be\nmaking War; therefore, what we have just said as to the aim of action\nin War applies to both parties. Here, then, is another case of\nreciprocal action. As long as the enemy is not defeated, he may defeat\nme; then I shall be no longer my own master; he will dictate the law to\nme as I did to him. This is the second reciprocal action, and leads to\na second extreme (_second reciprocal action_).\n\n5. UTMOST EXERTION OF POWERS.\n\n\nIf we desire to defeat the enemy, we must proportion our efforts to his\npowers of resistance. This is expressed by the product of two factors\nwhich cannot be separated, namely, _the sum of available means_ and\n_the strength of the Will_. The sum of the available means may be\nestimated in a measure, as it depends (although not entirely) upon\nnumbers; but the strength of volition is more difficult to determine,\nand can only be estimated to a certain extent by the strength of the\nmotives. Granted we have obtained in this way an approximation to the\nstrength of the power to be contended with, we can then take of our own\nmeans, and either increase them so as to obtain a preponderance, or, in\ncase we have not the resources to effect this, then do our best by\nincreasing our means as far as possible. But the adversary does the\nsame; therefore, there is a new mutual enhancement, which, in pure\nconception, must create a fresh effort towards an extreme. This is the\nthird case of reciprocal action, and a third extreme with which we meet\n(_third reciprocal action_).\n\n6. MODIFICATION IN THE REALITY.\n\n\nThus reasoning in the abstract, the mind cannot stop short of an\nextreme, because it has to deal with an extreme, with a conflict of\nforces left to themselves, and obeying no other but their own inner\nlaws. If we should seek to deduce from the pure conception of War an\nabsolute point for the aim which we shall propose and for the means\nwhich we shall apply, this constant reciprocal action would involve us\nin extremes, which would be nothing but a play of ideas produced by an\nalmost invisible train of logical subtleties. If, adhering closely to\nthe absolute, we try to avoid all difficulties by a stroke of the pen,\nand insist with logical strictness that in every case the extreme must\nbe the object, and the utmost effort must be exerted in that direction,\nsuch a stroke of the pen would be a mere paper law, not by any means\nadapted to the real world.\n\nEven supposing this extreme tension of forces was an absolute which\ncould easily be ascertained, still we must admit that the human mind\nwould hardly submit itself to this kind of logical chimera. There would\nbe in many cases an unnecessary waste of power, which would be in\nopposition to other principles of statecraft; an effort of Will would\nbe required disproportioned to the proposed object, which therefore it\nwould be impossible to realise, for the human will does not derive its\nimpulse from logical subtleties.\n\nBut everything takes a different shape when we pass from abstractions\nto reality. In the former, everything must be subject to optimism, and\nwe must imagine the one side as well as the other striving after\nperfection and even attaining it. Will this ever take place in reality?\nIt will if,\n\n(1) War becomes a completely isolated act, which arises suddenly, and\nis in no way connected with the previous history of the combatant\nStates.\n\n(2) If it is limited to a single solution, or to several simultaneous\nsolutions.\n\n(3) If it contains within itself the solution perfect and complete,\nfree from any reaction upon it, through a calculation beforehand of the\npolitical situation which will follow from it.\n\n7. WAR IS NEVER AN ISOLATED ACT.\n\n\nWith regard to the first point, neither of the two opponents is an\nabstract person to the other, not even as regards that factor in the\nsum of resistance which does not depend on objective things, viz., the\nWill. This Will is not an entirely unknown quantity; it indicates what\nit will be to-morrow by what it is to-day. War does not spring up quite\nsuddenly, it does not spread to the full in a moment; each of the two\nopponents can, therefore, form an opinion of the other, in a great\nmeasure, from what he is and what he does, instead of judging of him\naccording to what he, strictly speaking, should be or should do. But,\nnow, man with his incomplete organisation is always below the line of\nabsolute perfection, and thus these deficiencies, having an influence\non both sides, become a modifying principle.\n\n8. WAR DOES NOT CONSIST OF A SINGLE INSTANTANEOUS BLOW.\n\n\nThe second point gives rise to the following considerations:\u2014\n\nIf War ended in a single solution, or a number of simultaneous ones,\nthen naturally all the preparations for the same would have a tendency\nto the extreme, for an omission could not in any way be repaired; the\nutmost, then, that the world of reality could furnish as a guide for us\nwould be the preparations of the enemy, as far as they are known to us;\nall the rest would fall into the domain of the abstract. But if the\nresult is made up from several successive acts, then naturally that\nwhich precedes with all its phases may be taken as a measure for that\nwhich will follow, and in this manner the world of reality again takes\nthe place of the abstract, and thus modifies the effort towards the\nextreme.\n\nYet every War would necessarily resolve itself into a single solution,\nor a sum of simultaneous results, if all the means required for the\nstruggle were raised at once, or could be at once raised; for as one\nadverse result necessarily diminishes the means, then if all the means\nhave been applied in the first, a second cannot properly be supposed.\nAll hostile acts which might follow would belong essentially to the\nfirst, and form, in reality only its duration.\n\nBut we have already seen that even in the preparation for War the real\nworld steps into the place of mere abstract conception\u2014a material\nstandard into the place of the hypotheses of an extreme: that therefore\nin that way both parties, by the influence of the mutual reaction,\nremain below the line of extreme effort, and therefore all forces are\nnot at once brought forward.\n\nIt lies also in the nature of these forces and their application that\nthey cannot all be brought into activity at the same time. These forces\nare _the armies actually on foot, the country_, with its superficial\nextent and its population, _and the allies_.\n\nIn point of fact, the country, with its superficial area and the\npopulation, besides being the source of all military force, constitutes\nin itself an integral part of the efficient quantities in War,\nproviding either the theatre of war or exercising a considerable\ninfluence on the same.\n\nNow, it is possible to bring all the movable military forces of a\ncountry into operation at once, but not all fortresses, rivers,\nmountains, people, &c.\u2014in short, not the whole country, unless it is so\nsmall that it may be completely embraced by the first act of the War.\nFurther, the co-operation of allies does not depend on the Will of the\nbelligerents; and from the nature of the political relations of states\nto each other, this co-operation is frequently not afforded until after\nthe War has commenced, or it may be increased to restore the balance of\npower.\n\nThat this part of the means of resistance, which cannot at once be\nbrought into activity, in many cases, is a much greater part of the\nwhole than might at first be supposed, and that it often restores the\nbalance of power, seriously affected by the great force of the first\ndecision, will be more fully shown hereafter. Here it is sufficient to\nshow that a complete concentration of all available means in a moment\nof time is contradictory to the nature of War.\n\nNow this, in itself, furnishes no ground for relaxing our efforts to\naccumulate strength to gain the first result, because an unfavourable\nissue is always a disadvantage to which no one would purposely expose\nhimself, and also because the first decision, although not the only\none, still will have the more influence on subsequent events, the\ngreater it is in itself.\n\nBut the possibility of gaining a later result causes men to take refuge\nin that expectation, owing to the repugnance in the human mind to\nmaking excessive efforts; and therefore forces are not concentrated and\nmeasures are not taken for the first decision with that energy which\nwould otherwise be used. Whatever one belligerent omits from weakness,\nbecomes to the other a real objective ground for limiting his own\nefforts, and thus again, through this reciprocal action, extreme\ntendencies are brought down to efforts on a limited scale.\n\n9. THE RESULT IN WAR IS NEVER ABSOLUTE.\n\n\nLastly, even the final decision of a whole War is not always to be\nregarded as absolute. The conquered State often sees in it only a\npassing evil, which may be repaired in after times by means of\npolitical combinations. How much this must modify the degree of\ntension, and the vigour of the efforts made, is evident in itself.\n\n10. THE PROBABILITIES OF REAL LIFE TAKE THE PLACE OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF\nTHE EXTREME AND THE ABSOLUTE.\n\n\nIn this manner, the whole act of War is removed from the rigorous law\nof forces exerted to the utmost. If the extreme is no longer to be\napprehended, and no longer to be sought for, it is left to the judgment\nto determine the limits for the efforts to be made in place of it, and\nthis can only be done on the data furnished by the facts of the real\nworld by the LAWS OF PROBABILITY. Once the belligerents are no longer\nmere conceptions, but individual States and Governments, once the War\nis no longer an ideal, but a definite substantial procedure, then the\nreality will furnish the data to compute the unknown quantities which\nare required to be found.\n\nFrom the character, the measures, the situation of the adversary, and\nthe relations with which he is surrounded, each side will draw\nconclusions by the law of probability as to the designs of the other,\nand act accordingly.\n\n11. THE POLITICAL OBJECT NOW REAPPEARS.\n\n\nHere the question which we had laid aside forces itself again into\nconsideration (see No. 2), viz., the political object of the War. The\nlaw of the extreme, the view to disarm the adversary, to overthrow him,\nhas hitherto to a certain extent usurped the place of this end or\nobject. Just as this law loses its force, the political must again come\nforward. If the whole consideration is a calculation of probability\nbased on definite persons and relations, then the political object,\nbeing the original motive, must be an essential factor in the product.\nThe smaller the sacrifice we demand from ours, the smaller, it may be\nexpected, will be the means of resistance which he will employ; but the\nsmaller his preparation, the smaller will ours require to be. Further,\nthe smaller our political object, the less value shall we set upon it,\nand the more easily shall we be induced to give it up altogether.\n\nThus, therefore, the political object, as the original motive of the\nWar, will be the standard for determining both the aim of the military\nforce and also the amount of effort to be made. This it cannot be in\nitself, but it is so in relation to both the belligerent States,\nbecause we are concerned with realities, not with mere abstractions.\nOne and the same political object may produce totally different effects\nupon different people, or even upon the same people at different times;\nwe can, therefore, only admit the political object as the measure, by\nconsidering it in its effects upon those masses which it is to move,\nand consequently the nature of those masses also comes into\nconsideration. It is easy to see that thus the result may be very\ndifferent according as these masses are animated with a spirit which\nwill infuse vigour into the action or otherwise. It is quite possible\nfor such a state of feeling to exist between two States that a very\ntrifling political motive for War may produce an effect quite\ndisproportionate\u2014in fact, a perfect explosion.\n\nThis applies to the efforts which the political object will call forth\nin the two States, and to the aim which the military action shall\nprescribe for itself. At times it may itself be that aim, as, for\nexample, the conquest of a province. At other times the political\nobject itself is not suitable for the aim of military action; then such\na one must be chosen as will be an equivalent for it, and stand in its\nplace as regards the conclusion of peace. But also, in this, due\nattention to the peculiar character of the States concerned is always\nsupposed. There are circumstances in which the equivalent must be much\ngreater than the political object, in order to secure the latter. The\npolitical object will be so much the more the standard of aim and\neffort, and have more influence in itself, the more the masses are\nindifferent, the less that any mutual feeling of hostility prevails in\nthe two States from other causes, and therefore there are cases where\nthe political object almost alone will be decisive.\n\nIf the aim of the military action is an equivalent for the political\nobject, that action will in general diminish as the political object\ndiminishes, and in a greater degree the more the political object\ndominates. Thus it is explained how, without any contradiction in\nitself, there may be Wars of all degrees of importance and energy, from\na War of extermination down to the mere use of an army of observation.\nThis, however, leads to a question of another kind which we have\nhereafter to develop and answer.\n\n12. A SUSPENSION IN THE ACTION OF WAR UNEXPLAINED BY ANYTHING SAID AS\nYET.\n\n\nHowever insignificant the political claims mutually advanced, however\nweak the means put forth, however small the aim to which military\naction is directed, can this action be suspended even for a moment?\nThis is a question which penetrates deeply into the nature of the\nsubject.\n\nEvery transaction requires for its accomplishment a certain time which\nwe call its duration. This may be longer or shorter, according as the\nperson acting throws more or less despatch into his movements.\n\nAbout this more or less we shall not trouble ourselves here. Each\nperson acts in his own fashion; but the slow person does not protract\nthe thing because he wishes to spend more time about it, but because by\nhis nature he requires more time, and if he made more haste would not\ndo the thing so well. This time, therefore, depends on subjective\ncauses, and belongs to the length, so called, of the action.\n\nIf we allow now to every action in War this, its length, then we must\nassume, at first sight at least, that any expenditure of time beyond\nthis length, that is, every suspension of hostile action, appears an\nabsurdity; with respect to this it must not be forgotten that we now\nspeak not of the progress of one or other of the two opponents, but of\nthe general progress of the whole action of the War.\n\n13. THERE IS ONLY ONE CAUSE WHICH CAN SUSPEND THE ACTION, AND THIS\nSEEMS TO BE ONLY POSSIBLE ON ONE SIDE IN ANY CASE.\n\n\nIf two parties have armed themselves for strife, then a feeling of\nanimosity must have moved them to it; as long now as they continue\narmed, that is, do not come to terms of peace, this feeling must exist;\nand it can only be brought to a standstill by either side by one single\nmotive alone, which is, THAT HE WAITS FOR A MORE FAVOURABLE MOMENT FOR\nACTION. Now, at first sight, it appears that this motive can never\nexist except on one side, because it, eo ipso, must be prejudicial to\nthe other. If the one has an interest in acting, then the other must\nhave an interest in waiting.\n\nA complete equilibrium of forces can never produce a suspension of\naction, for during this suspension he who has the positive object (that\nis, the assailant) must continue progressing; for if we should imagine\nan equilibrium in this way, that he who has the positive object,\ntherefore the strongest motive, can at the same time only command the\nlesser means, so that the equation is made up by the product of the\nmotive and the power, then we must say, if no alteration in this\ncondition of equilibrium is to be expected, the two parties must make\npeace; but if an alteration is to be expected, then it can only be\nfavourable to one side, and therefore the other has a manifest interest\nto act without delay. We see that the conception of an equilibrium\ncannot explain a suspension of arms, but that it ends in the question\nof the EXPECTATION OF A MORE FAVOURABLE MOMENT.\n\nLet us suppose, therefore, that one of two States has a positive\nobject, as, for instance, the conquest of one of the enemy\u2019s\nprovinces\u2014which is to be utilised in the settlement of peace. After\nthis conquest, his political object is accomplished, the necessity for\naction ceases, and for him a pause ensues. If the adversary is also\ncontented with this solution, he will make peace; if not, he must act.\nNow, if we suppose that in four weeks he will be in a better condition\nto act, then he has sufficient grounds for putting off the time of\naction.\n\nBut from that moment the logical course for the enemy appears to be to\nact that he may not give the conquered party THE DESIRED time. Of\ncourse, in this mode of reasoning a complete insight into the state of\ncircumstances on both sides is supposed.\n\n14. THUS A CONTINUANCE OF ACTION WILL ENSUE WHICH WILL ADVANCE TOWARDS\nA CLIMAX.\n\n\nIf this unbroken continuity of hostile operations really existed, the\neffect would be that everything would again be driven towards the\nextreme; for, irrespective of the effect of such incessant activity in\ninflaming the feelings, and infusing into the whole a greater degree of\npassion, a greater elementary force, there would also follow from this\ncontinuance of action a stricter continuity, a closer connection\nbetween cause and effect, and thus every single action would become of\nmore importance, and consequently more replete with danger.\n\nBut we know that the course of action in War has seldom or never this\nunbroken continuity, and that there have been many Wars in which action\noccupied by far the smallest portion of time employed, the whole of the\nrest being consumed in inaction. It is impossible that this should be\nalways an anomaly; suspension of action in War must therefore be\npossible, that is no contradiction in itself. We now proceed to show\nhow this is.\n\n15. HERE, THEREFORE, THE PRINCIPLE OF POLARITY IS BROUGHT INTO\nREQUISITION.\n\n\nAs we have supposed the interests of one Commander to be always\nantagonistic to those of the other, we have assumed a true _polarity_.\nWe reserve a fuller explanation of this for another chapter, merely\nmaking the following observation on it at present.\n\nThe principle of polarity is only valid when it can be conceived in one\nand the same thing, where the positive and its opposite the negative\ncompletely destroy each other. In a battle both sides strive to\nconquer; that is true polarity, for the victory of the one side\ndestroys that of the other. But when we speak of two different things\nwhich have a common relation external to themselves, then it is not the\nthings but their relations which have the polarity.\n\n16. ATTACK AND DEFENCE ARE THINGS DIFFERING IN KIND AND OF UNEQUAL\nFORCE. POLARITY IS, THEREFORE, NOT APPLICABLE TO THEM.\n\n\nIf there was only one form of War, to wit, the attack of the enemy,\ntherefore no defence; or, in other words, if the attack was\ndistinguished from the defence merely by the positive motive, which the\none has and the other has not, but the methods of each were precisely\none and the same: then in this sort of fight every advantage gained on\nthe one side would be a corresponding disadvantage on the other, and\ntrue polarity would exist.\n\nBut action in War is divided into two forms, attack and defence, which,\nas we shall hereafter explain more particularly, are very different and\nof unequal strength. Polarity therefore lies in that to which both bear\na relation, in the decision, but not in the attack or defence itself.\n\nIf the one Commander wishes the solution put off, the other must wish\nto hasten it, but only by the same form of action. If it is A\u2019s\ninterest not to attack his enemy at present, but four weeks hence, then\nit is B\u2019s interest to be attacked, not four weeks hence, but at the\npresent moment. This is the direct antagonism of interests, but it by\nno means follows that it would be for B\u2019s interest to attack A at once.\nThat is plainly something totally different.\n\n17. THE EFFECT OF POLARITY IS OFTEN DESTROYED BY THE SUPERIORITY OF THE\nDEFENCE OVER THE ATTACK, AND THUS THE SUSPENSION OF ACTION IN WAR IS\nEXPLAINED.\n\n\nIf the form of defence is stronger than that of offence, as we shall\nhereafter show, the question arises, Is the advantage of a deferred\ndecision as great on the one side as the advantage of the defensive\nform on the other? If it is not, then it cannot by its counter-weight\nover-balance the latter, and thus influence the progress of the action\nof the War. We see, therefore, that the impulsive force existing in the\npolarity of interests may be lost in the difference between the\nstrength of the offensive and the defensive, and thereby become\nineffectual.\n\nIf, therefore, that side for which the present is favourable, is too\nweak to be able to dispense with the advantage of the defensive, he\nmust put up with the unfavourable prospects which the future holds out;\nfor it may still be better to fight a defensive battle in the\nunpromising future than to assume the offensive or make peace at\npresent. Now, being convinced that the superiority of the defensive(*)\n(rightly understood) is very great, and much greater than may appear at\nfirst sight, we conceive that the greater number of those periods of\ninaction which occur in war are thus explained without involving any\ncontradiction. The weaker the motives to action are, the more will\nthose motives be absorbed and neutralised by this difference between\nattack and defence, the more frequently, therefore, will action in\nwarfare be stopped, as indeed experience teaches.\n\n(*) It must be remembered that all this antedates by some years the\nintroduction of long-range weapons.\n\n\n18 A SECOND GROUND CONSISTS IN THE IMPERFECT KNOWLEDGE OF\nCIRCUMSTANCES.\n\n\nBut there is still another cause which may stop action in War, viz., an\nincomplete view of the situation. Each Commander can only fully know\nhis own position; that of his opponent can only be known to him by\nreports, which are uncertain; he may, therefore, form a wrong judgment\nwith respect to it upon data of this description, and, in consequence\nof that error, he may suppose that the power of taking the initiative\nrests with his adversary when it lies really with himself. This want of\nperfect insight might certainly just as often occasion an untimely\naction as untimely inaction, and hence it would in itself no more\ncontribute to delay than to accelerate action in War. Still, it must\nalways be regarded as one of the natural causes which may bring action\nin War to a standstill without involving a contradiction. But if we\nreflect how much more we are inclined and induced to estimate the power\nof our opponents too high than too low, because it lies in human nature\nto do so, we shall admit that our imperfect insight into facts in\ngeneral must contribute very much to delay action in War, and to modify\nthe application of the principles pending our conduct.\n\nThe possibility of a standstill brings into the action of War a new\nmodification, inasmuch as it dilutes that action with the element of\ntime, checks the influence or sense of danger in its course, and\nincreases the means of reinstating a lost balance of force. The greater\nthe tension of feelings from which the War springs, the greater\ntherefore the energy with which it is carried on, so much the shorter\nwill be the periods of inaction; on the other hand, the weaker the\nprinciple of warlike activity, the longer will be these periods: for\npowerful motives increase the force of the will, and this, as we know,\nis always a factor in the product of force.\n\n19. FREQUENT PERIODS OF INACTION IN WAR REMOVE IT FURTHER FROM THE\nABSOLUTE, AND MAKE IT STILL MORE A CALCULATION OF PROBABILITIES.\n\n\nBut the slower the action proceeds in War, the more frequent and longer\nthe periods of inaction, so much the more easily can an error be\nrepaired; therefore, so much the bolder a General will be in his\ncalculations, so much the more readily will he keep them below the line\nof the absolute, and build everything upon probabilities and\nconjecture. Thus, according as the course of the War is more or less\nslow, more or less time will be allowed for that which the nature of a\nconcrete case particularly requires, calculation of probability based\non given circumstances.\n\n20. THEREFORE, THE ELEMENT OF CHANCE ONLY IS WANTING TO MAKE OF WAR A\nGAME, AND IN THAT ELEMENT IT IS LEAST OF ALL DEFICIENT.\n\n\nWe see from the foregoing how much the objective nature of War makes it\na calculation of probabilities; now there is only one single element\nstill wanting to make it a game, and that element it certainly is not\nwithout: it is chance. There is no human affair which stands so\nconstantly and so generally in close connection with chance as War. But\ntogether with chance, the accidental, and along with it good luck,\noccupy a great place in War.\n\n21. WAR IS A GAME BOTH OBJECTIVELY AND SUBJECTIVELY.\n\n\nIf we now take a look at the _subjective nature_ of War, that is to\nsay, at those conditions under which it is carried on, it will appear\nto us still more like a game. Primarily the element in which the\noperations of War are carried on is danger; but which of all the moral\nqualities is the first in danger? _Courage_. Now certainly courage is\nquite compatible with prudent calculation, but still they are things of\nquite a different kind, essentially different qualities of the mind; on\nthe other hand, daring reliance on good fortune, boldness, rashness,\nare only expressions of courage, and all these propensities of the mind\nlook for the fortuitous (or accidental), because it is their element.\n\nWe see, therefore, how, from the commencement, the absolute, the\nmathematical as it is called, nowhere finds any sure basis in the\ncalculations in the Art of War; and that from the outset there is a\nplay of possibilities, probabilities, good and bad luck, which spreads\nabout with all the coarse and fine threads of its web, and makes War of\nall branches of human activity the most like a gambling game.\n\n22. HOW THIS ACCORDS BEST WITH THE HUMAN MIND IN GENERAL.\n\n\nAlthough our intellect always feels itself urged towards clearness and\ncertainty, still our mind often feels itself attracted by uncertainty.\nInstead of threading its way with the understanding along the narrow\npath of philosophical investigations and logical conclusions, in order,\nalmost unconscious of itself, to arrive in spaces where it feels itself\na stranger, and where it seems to part from all well-known objects, it\nprefers to remain with the imagination in the realms of chance and\nluck. Instead of living yonder on poor necessity, it revels here in the\nwealth of possibilities; animated thereby, courage then takes wings to\nitself, and daring and danger make the element into which it launches\nitself as a fearless swimmer plunges into the stream.\n\nShall theory leave it here, and move on, self-satisfied with absolute\nconclusions and rules? Then it is of no practical use. Theory must also\ntake into account the human element; it must accord a place to courage,\nto boldness, even to rashness. The Art of War has to deal with living\nand with moral forces, the consequence of which is that it can never\nattain the absolute and positive. There is therefore everywhere a\nmargin for the accidental, and just as much in the greatest things as\nin the smallest. As there is room for this accidental on the one hand,\nso on the other there must be courage and self-reliance in proportion\nto the room available. If these qualities are forthcoming in a high\ndegree, the margin left may likewise be great. Courage and\nself-reliance are, therefore, principles quite essential to War;\nconsequently, theory must only set up such rules as allow ample scope\nfor all degrees and varieties of these necessary and noblest of\nmilitary virtues. In daring there may still be wisdom, and prudence as\nwell, only they are estimated by a different standard of value.\n\n23. WAR IS ALWAYS A SERIOUS MEANS FOR A SERIOUS OBJECT. ITS MORE\nPARTICULAR DEFINITION.\n\n\nSuch is War; such the Commander who conducts it; such the theory which\nrules it. But War is no pastime; no mere passion for venturing and\nwinning; no work of a free enthusiasm: it is a serious means for a\nserious object. All that appearance which it wears from the varying\nhues of fortune, all that it assimilates into itself of the\noscillations of passion, of courage, of imagination, of enthusiasm, are\nonly particular properties of this means.\n\nThe War of a community\u2014of whole Nations, and particularly of civilised\nNations\u2014always starts from a political condition, and is called forth\nby a political motive. It is, therefore, a political act. Now if it was\na perfect, unrestrained, and absolute expression of force, as we had to\ndeduct it from its mere conception, then the moment it is called forth\nby policy it would step into the place of policy, and as something\nquite independent of it would set it aside, and only follow its own\nlaws, just as a mine at the moment of explosion cannot be guided into\nany other direction than that which has been given to it by preparatory\narrangements. This is how the thing has really been viewed hitherto,\nwhenever a want of harmony between policy and the conduct of a War has\nled to theoretical distinctions of the kind. But it is not so, and the\nidea is radically false. War in the real world, as we have already\nseen, is not an extreme thing which expends itself at one single\ndischarge; it is the operation of powers which do not develop\nthemselves completely in the same manner and in the same measure, but\nwhich at one time expand sufficiently to overcome the resistance\nopposed by inertia or friction, while at another they are too weak to\nproduce an effect; it is therefore, in a certain measure, a pulsation\nof violent force more or less vehement, consequently making its\ndischarges and exhausting its powers more or less quickly\u2014in other\nwords, conducting more or less quickly to the aim, but always lasting\nlong enough to admit of influence being exerted on it in its course, so\nas to give it this or that direction, in short, to be subject to the\nwill of a guiding intelligence., if we reflect that War has its root in\na political object, then naturally this original motive which called it\ninto existence should also continue the first and highest consideration\nin its conduct. Still, the political object is no despotic lawgiver on\nthat account; it must accommodate itself to the nature of the means,\nand though changes in these means may involve modification in the\npolitical objective, the latter always retains a prior right to\nconsideration. Policy, therefore, is interwoven with the whole action\nof War, and must exercise a continuous influence upon it, as far as the\nnature of the forces liberated by it will permit.\n\n24. WAR IS A MERE CONTINUATION OF POLICY BY OTHER MEANS.\n\n\nWe see, therefore, that War is not merely a political act, but also a\nreal political instrument, a continuation of political commerce, a\ncarrying out of the same by other means. All beyond this which is\nstrictly peculiar to War relates merely to the peculiar nature of the\nmeans which it uses. That the tendencies and views of policy shall not\nbe incompatible with these means, the Art of War in general and the\nCommander in each particular case may demand, and this claim is truly\nnot a trifling one. But however powerfully this may react on political\nviews in particular cases, still it must always be regarded as only a\nmodification of them; for the political view is the object, War is the\nmeans, and the means must always include the object in our conception.\n\n25. DIVERSITY IN THE NATURE OF WARS.\n\n\nThe greater and the more powerful the motives of a War, the more it\naffects the whole existence of a people. The more violent the\nexcitement which precedes the War, by so much the nearer will the War\napproach to its abstract form, so much the more will it be directed to\nthe destruction of the enemy, so much the nearer will the military and\npolitical ends coincide, so much the more purely military and less\npolitical the War appears to be; but the weaker the motives and the\ntensions, so much the less will the natural direction of the military\nelement\u2014that is, force\u2014be coincident with the direction which the\npolitical element indicates; so much the more must, therefore, the War\nbecome diverted from its natural direction, the political object\ndiverge from the aim of an ideal War, and the War appear to become\npolitical.\n\nBut, that the reader may not form any false conceptions, we must here\nobserve that by this natural tendency of War we only mean the\nphilosophical, the strictly logical, and by no means the tendency of\nforces actually engaged in conflict, by which would be supposed to be\nincluded all the emotions and passions of the combatants. No doubt in\nsome cases these also might be excited to such a degree as to be with\ndifficulty restrained and confined to the political road; but in most\ncases such a contradiction will not arise, because by the existence of\nsuch strenuous exertions a great plan in harmony therewith would be\nimplied. If the plan is directed only upon a small object, then the\nimpulses of feeling amongst the masses will be also so weak that these\nmasses will require to be stimulated rather than repressed.\n\n26. THEY MAY ALL BE REGARDED AS POLITICAL ACTS.\n\n\nReturning now to the main subject, although it is true that in one kind\nof War the political element seems almost to disappear, whilst in\nanother kind it occupies a very prominent place, we may still affirm\nthat the one is as political as the other; for if we regard the State\npolicy as the intelligence of the personified State, then amongst all\nthe constellations in the political sky whose movements it has to\ncompute, those must be included which arise when the nature of its\nrelations imposes the necessity of a great War. It is only if we\nunderstand by policy not a true appreciation of affairs in general, but\nthe conventional conception of a cautious, subtle, also dishonest\ncraftiness, averse from violence, that the latter kind of War may\nbelong more to policy than the first.\n\n27. INFLUENCE OF THIS VIEW ON THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF MILITARY\nHISTORY, AND ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF THEORY.\n\n\nWe see, therefore, in the first place, that under all circumstances War\nis to be regarded not as an independent thing, but as a political\ninstrument; and it is only by taking this point of view that we can\navoid finding ourselves in opposition to all military history. This is\nthe only means of unlocking the great book and making it intelligible.\nSecondly, this view shows us how Wars must differ in character\naccording to the nature of the motives and circumstances from which\nthey proceed.\n\nNow, the first, the grandest, and most decisive act of judgment which\nthe Statesman and General exercises is rightly to understand in this\nrespect the War in which he engages, not to take it for something, or\nto wish to make of it something, which by the nature of its relations\nit is impossible for it to be. This is, therefore, the first, the most\ncomprehensive, of all strategical questions. We shall enter into this\nmore fully in treating of the plan of a War.\n\nFor the present we content ourselves with having brought the subject up\nto this point, and having thereby fixed the chief point of view from\nwhich War and its theory are to be studied.\n\n28. RESULT FOR THEORY.\n\n\nWar is, therefore, not only chameleon-like in character, because it\nchanges its colour in some degree in each particular case, but it is\nalso, as a whole, in relation to the predominant tendencies which are\nin it, a wonderful trinity, composed of the original violence of its\nelements, hatred and animosity, which may be looked upon as blind\ninstinct; of the play of probabilities and chance, which make it a free\nactivity of the soul; and of the subordinate nature of a political\ninstrument, by which it belongs purely to the reason.\n\nThe first of these three phases concerns more the people the second,\nmore the General and his Army; the third, more the Government. The\npassions which break forth in War must already have a latent existence\nin the peoples. The range which the display of courage and talents\nshall get in the realm of probabilities and of chance depends on the\nparticular characteristics of the General and his Army, but the\npolitical objects belong to the Government alone.\n\nThese three tendencies, which appear like so many different law-givers,\nare deeply rooted in the nature of the subject, and at the same time\nvariable in degree. A theory which would leave any one of them out of\naccount, or set up any arbitrary relation between them, would\nimmediately become involved in such a contradiction with the reality,\nthat it might be regarded as destroyed at once by that alone.\n\nThe problem is, therefore, that theory shall keep itself poised in a\nmanner between these three tendencies, as between three points of\nattraction.\n\nThe way in which alone this difficult problem can be solved we shall\nexamine in the book on the \u201cTheory of War.\u201d In every case the\nconception of War, as here defined, will be the first ray of light\nwhich shows us the true foundation of theory, and which first separates\nthe great masses and allows us to distinguish them from one another.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Ends and Means in War\n\nHaving in the foregoing chapter ascertained the complicated and\nvariable nature of War, we shall now occupy ourselves in examining into\nthe influence which this nature has upon the end and means in War.\n\nIf we ask, first of all, for the object upon which the whole effort of\nWar is to be directed, in order that it may suffice for the attainment\nof the political object, we shall find that it is just as variable as\nare the political object and the particular circumstances of the War.\n\nIf, in the next place, we keep once more to the pure conception of War,\nthen we must say that the political object properly lies out of its\nprovince, for if War is an act of violence to compel the enemy to\nfulfil our will, then in every case all depends on our overthrowing the\nenemy, that is, disarming him, and on that alone. This object,\ndeveloped from abstract conceptions, but which is also the one aimed at\nin a great many cases in reality, we shall, in the first place, examine\nin this reality.\n\nIn connection with the plan of a campaign we shall hereafter examine\nmore closely into the meaning of disarming a nation, but here we must\nat once draw a distinction between three things, which, as three\ngeneral objects, comprise everything else within them. They are the\n_military power, the country_, and _the will of the enemy_.\n\nThe military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced to such a state\nas not to be able to prosecute the War. This is the sense in which we\nwish to be understood hereafter, whenever we use the expression\n\u201cdestruction of the enemy\u2019s military power.\u201d\n\nThe _country_ must be conquered, for out of the country a new military\nforce may be formed.\n\nBut even when both these things are done, still the War, that is, the\nhostile feeling and action of hostile agencies, cannot be considered as\nat an end as long as the _will_ of the enemy is not subdued also; that\nis, its Government and its Allies must be forced into signing a peace,\nor the people into submission; for whilst we are in full occupation of\nthe country, the War may break out afresh, either in the interior or\nthrough assistance given by Allies. No doubt, this may also take place\nafter a peace, but that shows nothing more than that every War does not\ncarry in itself the elements for a complete decision and final\nsettlement.\n\nBut even if this is the case, still with the conclusion of peace a\nnumber of sparks are always extinguished which would have smouldered on\nquietly, and the excitement of the passions abates, because all those\nwhose minds are disposed to peace, of which in all nations and under\nall circumstances there is always a great number, turn themselves away\ncompletely from the road to resistance. Whatever may take place\nsubsequently, we must always look upon the object as attained, and the\nbusiness of War as ended, by a peace.\n\nAs protection of the country is the primary object for which the\nmilitary force exists, therefore the natural order is, that first of\nall this force should be destroyed, then the country subdued; and\nthrough the effect of these two results, as well as the position we\nthen hold, the enemy should be forced to make peace. Generally the\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s force is done by degrees, and in just the\nsame measure the conquest of the country follows immediately. The two\nlikewise usually react upon each other, because the loss of provinces\noccasions a diminution of military force. But this order is by no means\nnecessary, and on that account it also does not always take place. The\nenemy\u2019s Army, before it is sensibly weakened, may retreat to the\nopposite side of the country, or even quite outside of it. In this\ncase, therefore, the greater part or the whole of the country is\nconquered.\n\nBut this object of War in the abstract, this final means of attaining\nthe political object in which all others are combined, the _disarming\nthe enemy_, is rarely attained in practice and is not a condition\nnecessary to peace. Therefore it can in no wise be set up in theory as\na law. There are innumerable instances of treaties in which peace has\nbeen settled before either party could be looked upon as disarmed;\nindeed, even before the balance of power had undergone any sensible\nalteration. Nay, further, if we look at the case in the concrete, then\nwe must say that in a whole class of cases, the idea of a complete\ndefeat of the enemy would be a mere imaginative flight, especially when\nthe enemy is considerably superior.\n\nThe reason why the object deduced from the conception of War is not\nadapted in general to real War lies in the difference between the two,\nwhich is discussed in the preceding chapter. If it was as pure theory\ngives it, then a War between two States of very unequal military\nstrength would appear an absurdity; therefore impossible. At most, the\ninequality between the physical forces might be such that it could be\nbalanced by the moral forces, and that would not go far with our\npresent social condition in Europe. Therefore, if we have seen Wars\ntake place between States of very unequal power, that has been the case\nbecause there is a wide difference between War in reality and its\noriginal conception.\n\nThere are two considerations which as motives may practically take the\nplace of inability to continue the contest. The first is the\nimprobability, the second is the excessive price, of success.\n\nAccording to what we have seen in the foregoing chapter, War must\nalways set itself free from the strict law of logical necessity, and\nseek aid from the calculation of probabilities; and as this is so much\nthe more the case, the more the War has a bias that way, from the\ncircumstances out of which it has arisen\u2014the smaller its motives are,\nand the excitement it has raised\u2014so it is also conceivable how out of\nthis calculation of probabilities even motives to peace may arise. War\ndoes not, therefore, always require to be fought out until one party is\noverthrown; and we may suppose that, when the motives and passions are\nslight, a weak probability will suffice to move that side to which it\nis unfavourable to give way. Now, were the other side convinced of this\nbeforehand, it is natural that he would strive for this probability\nonly, instead of first wasting time and effort in the attempt to\nachieve the total destruction of the enemy\u2019s Army.\n\nStill more general in its influence on the resolution to peace is the\nconsideration of the expenditure of force already made, and further\nrequired. As War is no act of blind passion, but is dominated by the\npolitical object, therefore the value of that object determines the\nmeasure of the sacrifices by which it is to be purchased. This will be\nthe case, not only as regards extent, but also as regards duration. As\nsoon, therefore, as the required outlay becomes so great that the\npolitical object is no longer equal in value, the object must be given\nup, and peace will be the result.\n\nWe see, therefore, that in Wars where one side cannot completely disarm\nthe other, the motives to peace on both sides will rise or fall on each\nside according to the probability of future success and the required\noutlay. If these motives were equally strong on both sides, they would\nmeet in the centre of their political difference. Where they are strong\non one side, they might be weak on the other. If their amount is only\nsufficient, peace will follow, but naturally to the advantage of that\nside which has the weakest motive for its conclusion. We purposely pass\nover here the difference which the _positive_ and _negative_ character\nof the political end must necessarily produce practically; for although\nthat is, as we shall hereafter show, of the highest importance, still\nwe are obliged to keep here to a more general point of view, because\nthe original political views in the course of the War change very much,\nand at last may become totally different, _just because they are\ndetermined by results and probable events_.\n\nNow comes the question how to influence the probability of success. In\nthe first place, naturally by the same means which we use when the\nobject is the subjugation of the enemy, by the destruction of his\nmilitary force and the conquest of his provinces; but these two means\nare not exactly of the same import here as they would be in reference\nto that object. If we attack the enemy\u2019s Army, it is a very different\nthing whether we intend to follow up the first blow with a succession\nof others, until the whole force is destroyed, or whether we mean to\ncontent ourselves with a victory to shake the enemy\u2019s feeling of\nsecurity, to convince him of our superiority, and to instil into him a\nfeeling of apprehension about the future. If this is our object, we\nonly go so far in the destruction of his forces as is sufficient. In\nlike manner, the conquest, of the enemy\u2019s provinces is quite a\ndifferent measure if the object is not the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nArmy. In the latter case the destruction of the Army is the real\neffectual action, and the taking of the provinces only a consequence of\nit; to take them before the Army had been defeated would always be\nlooked upon only as a necessary evil. On the other hand, if our views\nare not directed upon the complete destruction of the enemy\u2019s force,\nand if we are sure that the enemy does not seek but fears to bring\nmatters to a bloody decision, the taking possession of a weak or\ndefenceless province is an advantage in itself, and if this advantage\nis of sufficient importance to make the enemy apprehensive about the\ngeneral result, then it may also be regarded as a shorter road to\npeace.\n\nBut now we come upon a peculiar means of influencing the probability of\nthe result without destroying the enemy\u2019s Army, namely, upon the\nexpeditions which have a direct connection with political views. If\nthere are any enterprises which are particularly likely to break up the\nenemy\u2019s alliances or make them inoperative, to gain new alliances for\nourselves, to raise political powers in our own favour, &c. &c., then\nit is easy to conceive how much these may increase the probability of\nsuccess, and become a shorter way towards our object than the routing\nof the enemy\u2019s forces.\n\nThe second question is how to act upon the enemy\u2019s expenditure in\nstrength, that is, to raise the price of success.\n\nThe enemy\u2019s outlay in strength lies in the _wear and tear_ of his\nforces, consequently in the _destruction_ of them on our part, and in\nthe _loss_ of _provinces_, consequently the _conquest_ of them by us.\n\nHere, again, on account of the various significations of these means,\nso likewise it will be found that neither of them will be identical in\nits signification in all cases if the objects are different. The\nsmallness in general of this difference must not cause us perplexity,\nfor in reality the weakest motives, the finest shades of difference,\noften decide in favour of this or that method of applying force. Our\nonly business here is to show that, certain conditions being supposed,\nthe possibility of attaining our purpose in different ways is no\ncontradiction, absurdity, nor even error.\n\nBesides these two means, there are three other peculiar ways of\ndirectly increasing the waste of the enemy\u2019s force. The first is\n_invasion_, that is _the occupation of the enemy\u2019s territory, not with\na view to keeping it_, but in order to levy contributions upon it, or\nto devastate it.\n\nThe immediate object here is neither the conquest of the enemy\u2019s\nterritory nor the defeat of his armed force, but merely to _do him\ndamage in a general way_. The second way is to select for the object of\nour enterprises those points at which we can do the enemy most harm.\nNothing is easier to conceive than two different directions in which\nour force may be employed, the first of which is to be preferred if our\nobject is to defeat the enemy\u2019s Army, while the other is more\nadvantageous if the defeat of the enemy is out of the question.\nAccording to the usual mode of speaking, we should say that the first\nis primarily military, the other more political. But if we take our\nview from the highest point, both are equally military, and neither the\none nor the other can be eligible unless it suits the circumstances of\nthe case. The third, by far the most important, from the great number\nof cases which it embraces, is the _wearing out_ of the enemy. We\nchoose this expression not only to explain our meaning in few words,\nbut because it represents the thing exactly, and is not so figurative\nas may at first appear. The idea of wearing out in a struggle amounts\nin practice to _a gradual exhaustion of the physical powers and of the\nwill by the long continuance of exertion_.\n\nNow, if we want to overcome the enemy by the duration of the contest,\nwe must content ourselves with as small objects as possible, for it is\nin the nature of the thing that a great end requires a greater\nexpenditure of force than a small one; but the smallest object that we\ncan propose to ourselves is simple passive resistance, that is a combat\nwithout any positive view. In this way, therefore, our means attain\ntheir greatest relative value, and therefore the result is best\nsecured. How far now can this negative mode of proceeding be carried?\nPlainly not to absolute passivity, for mere endurance would not be\nfighting; and the defensive is an activity by which so much of the\nenemy\u2019s power must be destroyed that he must give up his object. That\nalone is what we aim at in each single act, and therein consists the\nnegative nature of our object.\n\nNo doubt this negative object in its single act is not so effective as\nthe positive object in the same direction would be, supposing it\nsuccessful; but there is this difference in its favour, that it\nsucceeds more easily than the positive, and therefore it holds out\ngreater certainty of success; what is wanting in the efficacy of its\nsingle act must be gained through time, that is, through the duration\nof the contest, and therefore this negative intention, which\nconstitutes the principle of the pure defensive, is also the natural\nmeans of overcoming the enemy by the duration of the combat, that is of\nwearing him out.\n\nHere lies the origin of that difference of _Offensive_ and _Defensive_,\nthe influence of which prevails throughout the whole province of War.\nWe cannot at present pursue this subject further than to observe that\nfrom this negative intention are to be deduced all the advantages and\nall the stronger forms of combat which are on the side of the\n_Defensive_, and in which that philosophical-dynamic law which exists\nbetween the greatness and the certainty of success is realised. We\nshall resume the consideration of all this hereafter.\n\nIf then the negative purpose, that is the concentration of all the\nmeans into a state of pure resistance, affords a superiority in the\ncontest, and if this advantage is sufficient to _balance_ whatever\nsuperiority in numbers the adversary may have, then the mere _duration_\nof the contest will suffice gradually to bring the loss of force on the\npart of the adversary to a point at which the political object can no\nlonger be an equivalent, a point at which, therefore, he must give up\nthe contest. We see then that this class of means, the wearing out of\nthe enemy, includes the great number of cases in which the weaker\nresists the stronger.\n\nFrederick the Great, during the Seven Years\u2019 War, was never strong\nenough to overthrow the Austrian monarchy; and if he had tried to do so\nafter the fashion of Charles the Twelfth, he would inevitably have had\nto succumb himself. But after his skilful application of the system of\nhusbanding his resources had shown the powers allied against him,\nthrough a seven years\u2019 struggle, that the actual expenditure of\nstrength far exceeded what they had at first anticipated, they made\npeace.\n\nWe see then that there are many ways to one\u2019s object in War; that the\ncomplete subjugation of the enemy is not essential in every case; that\nthe destruction of the enemy\u2019s military force, the conquest of the\nenemy\u2019s provinces, the mere occupation of them, the mere invasion of\nthem\u2014enterprises which are aimed directly at political objects\u2014lastly,\na passive expectation of the enemy\u2019s blow, are all means which, each in\nitself, may be used to force the enemy\u2019s will according as the peculiar\ncircumstances of the case lead us to expect more from the one or the\nother. We could still add to these a whole category of shorter methods\nof gaining the end, which might be called arguments ad hominem. What\nbranch of human affairs is there in which these sparks of individual\nspirit have not made their appearance, surmounting all formal\nconsiderations? And least of all can they fail to appear in War, where\nthe personal character of the combatants plays such an important part,\nboth in the cabinet and in the field. We limit ourselves to pointing\nthis out, as it would be pedantry to attempt to reduce such influences\ninto classes. Including these, we may say that the number of possible\nways of reaching the object rises to infinity.\n\nTo avoid under-estimating these different short roads to one\u2019s purpose,\neither estimating them only as rare exceptions, or holding the\ndifference which they cause in the conduct of War as insignificant, we\nmust bear in mind the diversity of political objects which may cause a\nWar\u2014measure at a glance the distance which there is between a death\nstruggle for political existence and a War which a forced or tottering\nalliance makes a matter of disagreeable duty. Between the two\ninnumerable gradations occur in practice. If we reject one of these\ngradations in theory, we might with equal right reject the whole, which\nwould be tantamount to shutting the real world completely out of sight.\n\nThese are the circumstances in general connected with the aim which we\nhave to pursue in War; let us now turn to the means.\n\nThere is only one single means, it is the _Fight_. However diversified\nthis may be in form, however widely it may differ from a rough vent of\nhatred and animosity in a hand-to-hand encounter, whatever number of\nthings may introduce themselves which are not actual fighting, still it\nis always implied in the conception of War that all the effects\nmanifested have their roots in the combat.\n\nThat this must always be so in the greatest diversity and complication\nof the reality is proved in a very simple manner. All that takes place\nin War takes place through armed forces, but where the forces of War,\n_i.e._, armed men, are applied, there the idea of fighting must of\nnecessity be at the foundation.\n\nAll, therefore, that relates to forces of War\u2014all that is connected\nwith their creation, maintenance, and application\u2014belongs to military\nactivity.\n\nCreation and maintenance are obviously only the means, whilst\napplication is the object.\n\nThe contest in War is not a contest of individual against individual,\nbut an organised whole, consisting of manifold parts; in this great\nwhole we may distinguish units of two kinds, the one determined by the\nsubject, the other by the object. In an Army the mass of combatants\nranges itself always into an order of new units, which again form\nmembers of a higher order. The combat of each of these members forms,\ntherefore, also a more or less distinct unit. Further, the motive of\nthe fight; therefore its object forms its unit.\n\nNow, to each of these units which we distinguish in the contest we\nattach the name of combat.\n\nIf the idea of combat lies at the foundation of every application of\narmed power, then also the application of armed force in general is\nnothing more than the determining and arranging a certain number of\ncombats.\n\nEvery activity in War, therefore, necessarily relates to the combat\neither directly or indirectly. The soldier is levied, clothed, armed,\nexercised, he sleeps, eats, drinks, and marches, all _merely to fight\nat the right time and place_.\n\nIf, therefore, all the threads of military activity terminate in the\ncombat, we shall grasp them all when we settle the order of the\ncombats. Only from this order and its execution proceed the effects,\nnever directly from the conditions preceding them. Now, in the combat\nall the action is directed to the _destruction_ of the enemy, or rather\nof _his fighting powers_, for this lies in the conception of combat.\nThe destruction of the enemy\u2019s fighting power is, therefore, always the\nmeans to attain the object of the combat.\n\nThis object may likewise be the mere destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed\nforce; but that is not by any means necessary, and it may be something\nquite different. Whenever, for instance, as we have shown, the defeat\nof the enemy is not the only means to attain the political object,\nwhenever there are other objects which may be pursued as the aim in a\nWar, then it follows of itself that such other objects may become the\nobject of particular acts of Warfare, and therefore also the object of\ncombats.\n\nBut even those combats which, as subordinate acts, are in the strict\nsense devoted to the destruction of the enemy\u2019s fighting force need not\nhave that destruction itself as their first object.\n\nIf we think of the manifold parts of a great armed force, of the number\nof circumstances which come into activity when it is employed, then it\nis clear that the combat of such a force must also require a manifold\norganisation, a subordinating of parts and formation. There may and\nmust naturally arise for particular parts a number of objects which are\nnot themselves the destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed force, and which,\nwhile they certainly contribute to increase that destruction, do so\nonly in an indirect manner. If a battalion is ordered to drive the\nenemy from a rising ground, or a bridge, &c., then properly the\noccupation of any such locality is the real object, the destruction of\nthe enemy\u2019s armed force which takes place only the means or secondary\nmatter. If the enemy can be driven away merely by a demonstration, the\nobject is attained all the same; but this hill or bridge is, in point\nof fact, only required as a means of increasing the gross amount of\nloss inflicted on the enemy\u2019s armed force. It is the case on the field\nof battle, much more must it be so on the whole theatre of war, where\nnot only one Army is opposed to another, but one State, one Nation, one\nwhole country to another. Here the number of possible relations, and\nconsequently possible combinations, is much greater, the diversity of\nmeasures increased, and by the gradation of objects, each subordinate\nto another the first means employed is further apart from the ultimate\nobject.\n\nIt is therefore for many reasons possible that the object of a combat\nis not the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force, that is, of the force\nimmediately opposed to us, but that this only appears as a means. But\nin all such cases it is no longer a question of complete destruction,\nfor the combat is here nothing else but a measure of strength\u2014has in\nitself no value except only that of the present result, that is, of its\ndecision.\n\nBut a measuring of strength may be effected in cases where the opposing\nsides are very unequal by a mere comparative estimate. In such cases no\nfighting will take place, and the weaker will immediately give way.\n\nIf the object of a combat is not always the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforces therein engaged\u2014and if its object can often be attained as well\nwithout the combat taking place at all, by merely making a resolve to\nfight, and by the circumstances to which this resolution gives\nrise\u2014then that explains how a whole campaign may be carried on with\ngreat activity without the actual combat playing any notable part in\nit.\n\nThat this may be so military history proves by a hundred examples. How\nmany of those cases can be justified, that is, without involving a\ncontradiction and whether some of the celebrities who rose out of them\nwould stand criticism, we shall leave undecided, for all we have to do\nwith the matter is to show the possibility of such a course of events\nin War.\n\nWe have only one means in War\u2014the battle; but this means, by the\ninfinite variety of paths in which it may be applied, leads us into all\nthe different ways which the multiplicity of objects allows of, so that\nwe seem to have gained nothing; but that is not the case, for from this\nunity of means proceeds a thread which assists the study of the\nsubject, as it runs through the whole web of military activity and\nholds it together.\n\nBut we have considered the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force as one of\nthe objects which maybe pursued in War, and left undecided what\nrelative importance should be given to it amongst other objects. In\ncertain cases it will depend on circumstances, and as a general\nquestion we have left its value undetermined. We are once more brought\nback upon it, and we shall be able to get an insight into the value\nwhich must necessarily be accorded to it.\n\nThe combat is the single activity in War; in the combat the destruction\nof the enemy opposed to us is the means to the end; it is so even when\nthe combat does not actually take place, because in that case there\nlies at the root of the decision the supposition at all events that\nthis destruction is to be regarded as beyond doubt. It follows,\ntherefore, that the destruction of the enemy\u2019s military force is the\nfoundation-stone of all action in War, the great support of all\ncombinations, which rest upon it like the arch on its abutments. All\naction, therefore, takes place on the supposition that if the solution\nby force of arms which lies at its foundation should be realised, it\nwill be a favourable one. The decision by arms is, for all operations\nin War, great and small, what cash payment is in bill transactions.\nHowever remote from each other these relations, however seldom the\nrealisation may take place, still it can never entirely fail to occur.\n\nIf the decision by arms lies at the foundation of all combinations,\nthen it follows that the enemy can defeat each of them by gaining a\nvictory on the field, not merely in the one on which our combination\ndirectly depends, but also in any other encounter, if it is only\nimportant enough; for every important decision by arms\u2014that is,\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s forces\u2014reacts upon all preceding it,\nbecause, like a liquid element, they tend to bring themselves to a\nlevel.\n\nThus, the destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed force appears, therefore,\nalways as the superior and more effectual means, to which all others\nmust give way.\n\nIt is, however, only when there is a supposed equality in all other\nconditions that we can ascribe to the destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed\nforce the greater efficacy. It would, therefore, be a great mistake to\ndraw the conclusion that a blind dash must always gain the victory over\nskill and caution. An unskilful attack would lead to the destruction of\nour own and not of the enemy\u2019s force, and therefore is not what is here\nmeant. The superior efficacy belongs not to the _means_ but to the\n_end_, and we are only comparing the effect of one realised purpose\nwith the other.\n\nIf we speak of the destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed force, we must\nexpressly point out that nothing obliges us to confine this idea to the\nmere physical force; on the contrary, the moral is necessarily implied\nas well, because both in fact are interwoven with each other, even in\nthe most minute details, and therefore cannot be separated. But it is\njust in connection with the inevitable effect which has been referred\nto, of a great act of destruction (a great victory) upon all other\ndecisions by arms, that this moral element is most fluid, if we may use\nthat expression, and therefore distributes itself the most easily\nthrough all the parts.\n\nAgainst the far superior worth which the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\narmed force has over all other means stands the expense and risk of\nthis means, and it is only to avoid these that any other means are\ntaken. That these must be costly stands to reason, for the waste of our\nown military forces must, _ceteris paribus_, always be greater the more\nour aim is directed upon the destruction of the enemy\u2019s power.\n\nThe danger lies in this, that the greater efficacy which we seek\nrecoils on ourselves, and therefore has worse consequences in case we\nfail of success.\n\nOther methods are, therefore, less costly when they succeed, less\ndangerous when they fail; but in this is necessarily lodged the\ncondition that they are only opposed to similar ones, that is, that the\nenemy acts on the same principle; for if the enemy should choose the\nway of a great decision by arms, _our means must on that account be\nchanged against our will, in order to correspond with his_. Then all\ndepends on the issue of the act of destruction; but of course it is\nevident that, _ceteris paribus_, in this act we must be at a\ndisadvantage in all respects because our views and our means had been\ndirected in part upon other objects, which is not the case with the\nenemy. Two different objects of which one is not part, the other\nexclude each other, and therefore a force which may be applicable for\nthe one may not serve for the other. If, therefore, one of two\nbelligerents is determined to seek the great decision by arms, then he\nhas a high probability of success, as soon as he is certain his\nopponent will not take that way, but follows a different object; and\nevery one who sets before himself any such other aim only does so in a\nreasonable manner, provided he acts on the supposition that his\nadversary has as little intention as he has of resorting to the great\ndecision by arms.\n\nBut what we have here said of another direction of views and forces\nrelates only to other _positive objects_, which we may propose to\nourselves in War, besides the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force, not by\nany means to the pure defensive, which may be adopted with a view\nthereby to exhaust the enemy\u2019s forces. In the pure defensive the\npositive object is wanting, and therefore, while on the defensive, our\nforces cannot at the same time be directed on other objects; they can\nonly be employed to defeat the intentions of the enemy.\n\nWe have now to consider the opposite of the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\narmed force, that is to say, the preservation of our own. These two\nefforts always go together, as they mutually act and react on each\nother; they are integral parts of one and the same view, and we have\nonly to ascertain what effect is produced when one or the other has the\npredominance. The endeavour to destroy the enemy\u2019s force has a positive\nobject, and leads to positive results, of which the final aim is the\nconquest of the enemy. The preservation of our own forces has a\nnegative object, leads therefore to the defeat of the enemy\u2019s\nintentions, that is to pure resistance, of which the final aim can be\nnothing more than to prolong the duration of the contest, so that the\nenemy shall exhaust himself in it.\n\nThe effort with a positive object calls into existence the act of\ndestruction; the effort with the negative object awaits it.\n\nHow far this state of expectation should and may be carried we shall\nenter into more particularly in the theory of attack and defence, at\nthe origin of which we again find ourselves. Here we shall content\nourselves with saying that the awaiting must be no absolute endurance,\nand that in the action bound up with it the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\narmed force engaged in this conflict may be the aim just as well as\nanything else. It would therefore be a great error in the fundamental\nidea to suppose that the consequence of the negative course is that we\nare precluded from choosing the destruction of the enemy\u2019s military\nforce as our object, and must prefer a bloodless solution. The\nadvantage which the negative effort gives may certainly lead to that,\nbut only at the risk of its not being the most advisable method, as\nthat question is dependent on totally different conditions, resting not\nwith ourselves but with our opponents. This other bloodless way cannot,\ntherefore, be looked upon at all as the natural means of satisfying our\ngreat anxiety to spare our forces; on the contrary, when circumstances\nare not favourable, it would be the means of completely ruining them.\nVery many Generals have fallen into this error, and been ruined by it.\nThe only necessary effect resulting from the superiority of the\nnegative effort is the delay of the decision, so that the party acting\ntakes refuge in that way, as it were, in the expectation of the\ndecisive moment. The consequence of that is generally _the postponement\nof the action_ as much as possible in time, and also in space, in so\nfar as space is in connection with it. If the moment has arrived in\nwhich this can no longer be done without ruinous disadvantage, then the\nadvantage of the negative must be considered as exhausted, and then\ncomes forward unchanged the effort for the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforce, which was kept back by a counterpoise, but never discarded.\n\nWe have seen, therefore, in the foregoing reflections, that there are\nmany ways to the aim, that is, to the attainment of the political\nobject; but that the only means is the combat, and that consequently\neverything is subject to a supreme law: which is the _decision by\narms;_ that where this is really demanded by one, it is a redress which\ncannot be refused by the other; that, therefore, a belligerent who\ntakes any other way must make sure that his opponent will not take this\nmeans of redress, or his cause may be lost in that supreme court; hence\ntherefore the destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed force, amongst all the\nobjects which can be pursued in War, appears always as the one which\noverrules all others.\n\nWhat may be achieved by combinations of another kind in War we shall\nonly learn in the sequel, and naturally only by degrees. We content\nourselves here with acknowledging in general their possibility, as\nsomething pointing to the difference between the reality and the\nconception, and to the influence of particular circumstances. But we\ncould not avoid showing at once that the _bloody solution of the\ncrisis_, the effort for the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force, is the\nfirstborn son of War. If when political objects are unimportant,\nmotives weak, the excitement of forces small, a cautious commander\ntries in all kinds of ways, without great crises and bloody solutions,\nto twist himself skilfully into a peace through the characteristic\nweaknesses of his enemy in the field and in the Cabinet, we have no\nright to find fault with him, if the premises on which he acts are well\nfounded and justified by success; still we must require him to remember\nthat he only travels on forbidden tracks, where the God of War may\nsurprise him; that he ought always to keep his eye on the enemy, in\norder that he may not have to defend himself with a dress rapier if the\nenemy takes up a sharp sword.\n\nThe consequences of the nature of War, how ends and means act in it,\nhow in the modifications of reality it deviates sometimes more,\nsometimes less, from its strict original conception, fluctuating\nbackwards and forwards, yet always remaining under that strict\nconception as under a supreme law: all this we must retain before us,\nand bear constantly in mind in the consideration of each of the\nsucceeding subjects, if we would rightly comprehend their true\nrelations and proper importance, and not become involved incessantly in\nthe most glaring contradictions with the reality, and at last with our\nown selves.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. The Genius for War\n\nEvery special calling in life, if it is to be followed with success,\nrequires peculiar qualifications of understanding and soul. Where these\nare of a high order, and manifest themselves by extraordinary\nachievements, the mind to which they belong is termed GENIUS.\n\nWe know very well that this word is used in many significations which\nare very different both in extent and nature, and that with many of\nthese significations it is a very difficult task to define the essence\nof Genius; but as we neither profess to be philosopher nor grammarian,\nwe must be allowed to keep to the meaning usual in ordinary language,\nand to understand by \u201cgenius\u201d a very high mental capacity for certain\nemployments.\n\nWe wish to stop for a moment over this faculty and dignity of the mind,\nin order to vindicate its title, and to explain more fully the meaning\nof the conception. But we shall not dwell on that (genius) which has\nobtained its title through a very great talent, on genius properly so\ncalled, that is a conception which has no defined limits. What we have\nto do is to bring under consideration every common tendency of the\npowers of the mind and soul towards the business of War, the whole of\nwhich common tendencies we may look upon as the ESSENCE OF MILITARY\nGENIUS. We say \u201ccommon,\u201d for just therein consists military genius,\nthat it is not one single quality bearing upon War, as, for instance,\ncourage, while other qualities of mind and soul are wanting or have a\ndirection which is unserviceable for War, but that it is AN HARMONIOUS\nASSOCIATION OF POWERS, in which one or other may predominate, but none\nmust be in opposition.\n\nIf every combatant required to be more or less endowed with military\ngenius, then our armies would be very weak; for as it implies a\npeculiar bent of the intelligent powers, therefore it can only rarely\nbe found where the mental powers of a people are called into\nrequisition and trained in many different ways. The fewer the\nemployments followed by a Nation, the more that of arms predominates,\nso much the more prevalent will military genius also be found. But this\nmerely applies to its prevalence, by no means to its degree, for that\ndepends on the general state of intellectual culture in the country. If\nwe look at a wild, warlike race, then we find a warlike spirit in\nindividuals much more common than in a civilised people; for in the\nformer almost every warrior possesses it, whilst in the civilised\nwhole, masses are only carried away by it from necessity, never by\ninclination. But amongst uncivilised people we never find a really\ngreat General, and very seldom what we can properly call a military\ngenius, because that requires a development of the intelligent powers\nwhich cannot be found in an uncivilised state. That a civilised people\nmay also have a warlike tendency and development is a matter of course;\nand the more this is general, the more frequently also will military\nspirit be found in individuals in their armies. Now as this coincides\nin such case with the higher degree of civilisation, therefore from\nsuch nations have issued forth the most brilliant military exploits, as\nthe Romans and the French have exemplified. The greatest names in these\nand in all other nations that have been renowned in War belong strictly\nto epochs of higher culture.\n\nFrom this we may infer how great a share the intelligent powers have in\nsuperior military genius. We shall now look more closely into this\npoint.\n\nWar is the province of danger, and therefore courage above all things\nis the first quality of a warrior.\n\nCourage is of two kinds: first, physical courage, or courage in\npresence of danger to the person; and next, moral courage, or courage\nbefore responsibility, whether it be before the judgment-seat of\nexternal authority, or of the inner power, the conscience. We only\nspeak here of the first.\n\nCourage before danger to the person, again, is of two kinds. First, it\nmay be indifference to danger, whether proceeding from the organism of\nthe individual, contempt of death, or habit: in any of these cases it\nis to be regarded as a permanent condition.\n\nSecondly, courage may proceed from positive motives, such as personal\npride, patriotism, enthusiasm of any kind. In this case courage is not\nso much a normal condition as an impulse.\n\nWe may conceive that the two kinds act differently. The first kind is\nmore certain, because it has become a second nature, never forsakes the\nman; the second often leads him farther. In the first there is more of\nfirmness, in the second, of boldness. The first leaves the judgment\ncooler, the second raises its power at times, but often bewilders it.\nThe two combined make up the most perfect kind of courage.\n\nWar is the province of physical exertion and suffering. In order not to\nbe completely overcome by them, a certain strength of body and mind is\nrequired, which, either natural or acquired, produces indifference to\nthem. With these qualifications, under the guidance of simply a sound\nunderstanding, a man is at once a proper instrument for War; and these\nare the qualifications so generally to be met with amongst wild and\nhalf-civilised tribes. If we go further in the demands which War makes\non it, then we find the powers of the understanding predominating. War\nis the province of uncertainty: three-fourths of those things upon\nwhich action in War must be calculated, are hidden more or less in the\nclouds of great uncertainty. Here, then, above all a fine and\npenetrating mind is called for, to search out the truth by the tact of\nits judgment.\n\nAn average intellect may, at one time, perhaps hit upon this truth by\naccident; an extraordinary courage, at another, may compensate for the\nwant of this tact; but in the majority of cases the average result will\nalways bring to light the deficient understanding.\n\nWar is the province of chance. In no sphere of human activity is such a\nmargin to be left for this intruder, because none is so much in\nconstant contact with him on all sides. He increases the uncertainty of\nevery circumstance, and deranges the course of events.\n\nFrom this uncertainty of all intelligence and suppositions, this\ncontinual interposition of chance, the actor in War constantly finds\nthings different from his expectations; and this cannot fail to have an\ninfluence on his plans, or at least on the presumptions connected with\nthese plans. If this influence is so great as to render the\npre-determined plan completely nugatory, then, as a rule, a new one\nmust be substituted in its place; but at the moment the necessary data\nare often wanting for this, because in the course of action\ncircumstances press for immediate decision, and allow no time to look\nabout for fresh data, often not enough for mature consideration.\n\nBut it more often happens that the correction of one premise, and the\nknowledge of chance events which have arisen, are not sufficient to\noverthrow our plans completely, but only suffice to produce hesitation.\nOur knowledge of circumstances has increased, but our uncertainty,\ninstead of having diminished, has only increased. The reason of this\nis, that we do not gain all our experience at once, but by degrees;\nthus our determinations continue to be assailed incessantly by fresh\nexperience; and the mind, if we may use the expression, must always be\n\u201cunder arms.\u201d\n\nNow, if it is to get safely through this perpetual conflict with the\nunexpected, two qualities are indispensable: in the first place an\nintellect which, even in the midst of this intense obscurity, is not\nwithout some traces of inner light, which lead to the truth, and then\nthe courage to follow this faint light. The first is figuratively\nexpressed by the French phrase _coup d\u2019\u0153il_. The other is _resolution_.\nAs the battle is the feature in War to which attention was originally\nchiefly directed, and as time and space are important elements in it,\nmore particularly when cavalry with their rapid decisions were the\nchief arm, the idea of rapid and correct decision related in the first\ninstance to the estimation of these two elements, and to denote the\nidea an expression was adopted which actually only points to a correct\njudgment by eye. Many teachers of the Art of War then gave this limited\nsignification as the definition of _coup d\u2019\u0153il_. But it is undeniable\nthat all able decisions formed in the moment of action soon came to be\nunderstood by the expression, as, for instance, the hitting upon the\nright point of attack, &c. It is, therefore, not only the physical, but\nmore frequently the mental eye which is meant in _coup d\u2019\u0153il_.\nNaturally, the expression, like the thing, is always more in its place\nin the field of tactics: still, it must not be wanting in strategy,\ninasmuch as in it rapid decisions are often necessary. If we strip this\nconception of that which the expression has given it of the\nover-figurative and restricted, then it amounts simply to the rapid\ndiscovery of a truth which to the ordinary mind is either not visible\nat all or only becomes so after long examination and reflection.\n\nResolution is an act of courage in single instances, and if it becomes\na characteristic trait, it is a habit of the mind. But here we do not\nmean courage in face of bodily danger, but in face of responsibility,\ntherefore, to a certain extent against moral danger. This has been\noften called _courage d\u2019esprit_, on the ground that it springs from the\nunderstanding; nevertheless, it is no act of the understanding on that\naccount; it is an act of feeling. Mere intelligence is still not\ncourage, for we often see the cleverest people devoid of resolution.\nThe mind must, therefore, first awaken the feeling of courage, and then\nbe guided and supported by it, because in momentary emergencies the man\nis swayed more by his feelings than his thoughts.\n\nWe have assigned to resolution the office of removing the torments of\ndoubt, and the dangers of delay, when there are no sufficient motives\nfor guidance. Through the unscrupulous use of language which is\nprevalent, this term is often applied to the mere propensity to daring,\nto bravery, boldness, or temerity. But, when there are _sufficient\nmotives_ in the man, let them be objective or subjective, true or\nfalse, we have no right to speak of his resolution; for, when we do so,\nwe put ourselves in his place, and we throw into the scale doubts which\ndid not exist with him.\n\nHere there is no question of anything but of strength and weakness. We\nare not pedantic enough to dispute with the use of language about this\nlittle misapplication, our observation is only intended to remove wrong\nobjections.\n\nThis resolution now, which overcomes the state of doubting, can only be\ncalled forth by the intellect, and, in fact, by a peculiar tendency of\nthe same. We maintain that the mere union of a superior understanding\nand the necessary feelings are not sufficient to make up resolution.\nThere are persons who possess the keenest perception for the most\ndifficult problems, who are also not fearful of responsibility, and yet\nin cases of difficulty cannot come to a resolution. Their courage and\ntheir sagacity operate independently of each other, do not give each\nother a hand, and on that account do not produce resolution as a\nresult. The forerunner of resolution is an act of the mind making\nevident the necessity of venturing, and thus influencing the will. This\nquite peculiar direction of the mind, which conquers every other fear\nin man by the fear of wavering or doubting, is what makes up resolution\nin strong minds; therefore, in our opinion, men who have little\nintelligence can never be resolute. They may act without hesitation\nunder perplexing circumstances, but then they act without reflection.\nNow, of course, when a man acts without reflection he cannot be at\nvariance with himself by doubts, and such a mode of action may now and\nthen lead to the right point; but we say now as before, it is the\naverage result which indicates the existence of military genius. Should\nour assertion appear extraordinary to any one, because he knows many a\nresolute hussar officer who is no deep thinker, we must remind him that\nthe question here is about a peculiar direction of the mind, and not\nabout great thinking powers.\n\nWe believe, therefore, that resolution is indebted to a special\ndirection of the mind for its existence, a direction which belongs to a\nstrong head rather than to a brilliant one. In corroboration of this\ngenealogy of resolution we may add that there have been many instances\nof men who have shown the greatest resolution in an inferior rank, and\nhave lost it in a higher position. While, on the one hand, they are\nobliged to resolve, on the other they see the dangers of a wrong\ndecision, and as they are surrounded with things new to them, their\nunderstanding loses its original force, and they become only the more\ntimid the more they become aware of the danger of the irresolution into\nwhich they have fallen, and the more they have formerly been in the\nhabit of acting on the spur of the moment.\n\nFrom the _coup d\u2019\u0153il_ and resolution we are naturally to speak of its\nkindred quality, _presence of mind_, which in a region of the\nunexpected like War must act a great part, for it is indeed nothing but\na great conquest over the unexpected. As we admire presence of mind in\na pithy answer to anything said unexpectedly, so we admire it in a\nready expedient on sudden danger. Neither the answer nor the expedient\nneed be in themselves extraordinary, if they only hit the point; for\nthat which as the result of mature reflection would be nothing unusual,\ntherefore insignificant in its impression on us, may as an\ninstantaneous act of the mind produce a pleasing impression. The\nexpression \u201cpresence of mind\u201d certainly denotes very fitly the\nreadiness and rapidity of the help rendered by the mind.\n\nWhether this noble quality of a man is to be ascribed more to the\npeculiarity of his mind or to the equanimity of his feelings, depends\non the nature of the case, although neither of the two can be entirely\nwanting. A telling repartee bespeaks rather a ready wit, a ready\nexpedient on sudden danger implies more particularly a well-balanced\nmind.\n\nIf we take a general view of the four elements composing the atmosphere\nin which War moves, of _danger, physical effort, uncertainty_, and\n_chance_, it is easy to conceive that a great force of mind and\nunderstanding is requisite to be able to make way with safety and\nsuccess amongst such opposing elements, a force which, according to the\ndifferent modifications arising out of circumstances, we find termed by\nmilitary writers and annalists as _energy, firmness, staunchness,\nstrength of mind and character_. All these manifestations of the heroic\nnature might be regarded as one and the same power of volition,\nmodified according to circumstances; but nearly related as these things\nare to each other, still they are not one and the same, and it is\ndesirable for us to distinguish here a little more closely at least the\naction of the powers of the soul in relation to them.\n\nIn the first place, to make the conception clear, it is essential to\nobserve that the weight, burden, resistance, or whatever it may be\ncalled, by which that force of the soul in the General is brought to\nlight, is only in a very small measure the enemy\u2019s activity, the\nenemy\u2019s resistance, the enemy\u2019s action directly. The enemy\u2019s activity\nonly affects the General directly in the first place in relation to his\nperson, without disturbing his action as Commander. If the enemy,\ninstead of two hours, resists for four, the Commander instead of two\nhours is four hours in danger; this is a quantity which plainly\ndiminishes the higher the rank of the Commander. What is it for one in\nthe post of Commander-in-Chief? It is nothing.\n\nSecondly, although the opposition offered by the enemy has a direct\neffect on the Commander through the loss of means arising from\nprolonged resistance, and the responsibility connected with that loss,\nand his force of will is first tested and called forth by these anxious\nconsiderations, still we maintain that this is not the heaviest burden\nby far which he has to bear, because he has only himself to settle\nwith. All the other effects of the enemy\u2019s resistance act directly upon\nthe combatants under his command, and through them react upon him.\n\nAs long as his men full of good courage fight with zeal and spirit, it\nis seldom necessary for the Chief to show great energy of purpose in\nthe pursuit of his object. But as soon as difficulties arise\u2014and that\nmust always happen when great results are at stake\u2014then things no\nlonger move on of themselves like a well-oiled machine, the machine\nitself then begins to offer resistance, and to overcome this the\nCommander must have a great force of will. By this resistance we must\nnot exactly suppose disobedience and murmurs, although these are\nfrequent enough with particular individuals; it is the whole feeling of\nthe dissolution of all physical and moral power, it is the heartrending\nsight of the bloody sacrifice which the Commander has to contend with\nin himself, and then in all others who directly or indirectly transfer\nto him their impressions, feelings, anxieties, and desires. As the\nforces in one individual after another become prostrated, and can no\nlonger be excited and supported by an effort of his own will, the whole\ninertia of the mass gradually rests its weight on the Will of the\nCommander: by the spark in his breast, by the light of his spirit, the\nspark of purpose, the light of hope, must be kindled afresh in others:\nin so far only as he is equal to this, he stands above the masses and\ncontinues to be their master; whenever that influence ceases, and his\nown spirit is no longer strong enough to revive the spirit of all\nothers, the masses drawing him down with them sink into the lower\nregion of animal nature, which shrinks from danger and knows not shame.\nThese are the weights which the courage and intelligent faculties of\nthe military Commander have to overcome if he is to make his name\nillustrious. They increase with the masses, and therefore, if the\nforces in question are to continue equal to the burden, they must rise\nin proportion to the height of the station.\n\nEnergy in action expresses the strength of the motive through which the\naction is excited, let the motive have its origin in a conviction of\nthe understanding, or in an impulse. But the latter can hardly ever be\nwanting where great force is to show itself.\n\nOf all the noble feelings which fill the human heart in the exciting\ntumult of battle, none, we must admit, are so powerful and constant as\nthe soul\u2019s thirst for honour and renown, which the German language\ntreats so unfairly and tends to depreciate by the unworthy associations\nin the words _Ehrgeiz_ (greed of honour) and _Ruhmsucht_ (hankering\nafter glory). No doubt it is just in War that the abuse of these proud\naspirations of the soul must bring upon the human race the most\nshocking outrages, but by their origin they are certainly to be counted\namongst the noblest feelings which belong to human nature, and in War\nthey are the vivifying principle which gives the enormous body a\nspirit. Although other feelings may be more general in their influence,\nand many of them\u2014such as love of country, fanaticism, revenge,\nenthusiasm of every kind\u2014may seem to stand higher, the thirst for\nhonour and renown still remains indispensable. Those other feelings may\nrouse the great masses in general, and excite them more powerfully, but\nthey do not give the Leader a desire to will more than others, which is\nan essential requisite in his position if he is to make himself\ndistinguished in it. They do not, like a thirst for honour, make the\nmilitary act specially the property of the Leader, which he strives to\nturn to the best account; where he ploughs with toil, sows with care,\nthat he may reap plentifully. It is through these aspirations we have\nbeen speaking of in Commanders, from the highest to the lowest, this\nsort of energy, this spirit of emulation, these incentives, that the\naction of armies is chiefly animated and made successful. And now as to\nthat which specially concerns the head of all, we ask, Has there ever\nbeen a great Commander destitute of the love of honour, or is such a\ncharacter even conceivable?\n\n_Firmness_ denotes the resistance of the will in relation to the force\nof a single blow, _staunchness_ in relation to a continuance of blows.\nClose as is the analogy between the two, and often as the one is used\nin place of the other, still there is a notable difference between them\nwhich cannot be mistaken, inasmuch as firmness against a single\npowerful impression may have its root in the mere strength of a\nfeeling, but staunchness must be supported rather by the understanding,\nfor the greater the duration of an action the more systematic\ndeliberation is connected with it, and from this staunchness partly\nderives its power.\n\nIf we now turn to _strength of mind or soul_, then the first question\nis, What are we to understand thereby?\n\nPlainly it is not vehement expressions of feeling, nor easily excited\npassions, for that would be contrary to all the usage of language, but\nthe power of listening to reason in the midst of the most intense\nexcitement, in the storm of the most violent passions. Should this\npower depend on strength of understanding alone? We doubt it. The fact\nthat there are men of the greatest intellect who cannot command\nthemselves certainly proves nothing to the contrary, for we might say\nthat it perhaps requires an understanding of a powerful rather than of\na comprehensive nature; but we believe we shall be nearer the truth if\nwe assume that the power of submitting oneself to the control of the\nunderstanding, even in moments of the most violent excitement of the\nfeelings, that power which we call _self-command_, has its root in the\nheart itself. It is, in point of fact, another feeling, which in strong\nminds balances the excited passions without destroying them; and it is\nonly through this equilibrium that the mastery of the understanding is\nsecured. This counterpoise is nothing but a sense of the dignity of\nman, that noblest pride, that deeply-seated desire of the soul always\nto act as a being endued with understanding and reason. We may\ntherefore say that a strong mind is one which does not lose its balance\neven under the most violent excitement.\n\nIf we cast a glance at the variety to be observed in the human\ncharacter in respect to feeling, we find, first, some people who have\nvery little excitability, who are called phlegmatic or indolent.\n\nSecondly, some very excitable, but whose feelings still never overstep\ncertain limits, and who are therefore known as men full of feeling, but\nsober-minded.\n\nThirdly, those who are very easily roused, whose feelings blaze up\nquickly and violently like gunpowder, but do not last.\n\nFourthly, and lastly, those who cannot be moved by slight causes, and\nwho generally are not to be roused suddenly, but only gradually; but\nwhose feelings become very powerful and are much more lasting. These\nare men with strong passions, lying deep and latent.\n\nThis difference of character lies probably close on the confines of the\nphysical powers which move the human organism, and belongs to that\namphibious organisation which we call the nervous system, which appears\nto be partly material, partly spiritual. With our weak philosophy, we\nshall not proceed further in this mysterious field. But it is important\nfor us to spend a moment over the effects which these different natures\nhave on, action in War, and to see how far a great strength of mind is\nto be expected from them.\n\nIndolent men cannot easily be thrown out of their equanimity, but we\ncannot certainly say there is strength of mind where there is a want of\nall manifestation of power.\n\nAt the same time, it is not to be denied that such men have a certain\npeculiar aptitude for War, on account of their constant equanimity.\nThey often want the positive motive to action, impulse, and\nconsequently activity, but they are not apt to throw things into\ndisorder.\n\nThe peculiarity of the second class is that they are easily excited to\nact on trifling grounds, but in great matters they are easily\noverwhelmed. Men of this kind show great activity in helping an\nunfortunate individual, but by the distress of a whole Nation they are\nonly inclined to despond, not roused to action.\n\nSuch people are not deficient in either activity or equanimity in War;\nbut they will never accomplish anything great unless a great\nintellectual force furnishes the motive, and it is very seldom that a\nstrong, independent mind is combined with such a character.\n\nExcitable, inflammable feelings are in themselves little suited for\npractical life, and therefore they are not very fit for War. They have\ncertainly the advantage of strong impulses, but that cannot long\nsustain them. At the same time, if the excitability in such men takes\nthe direction of courage, or a sense of honour, they may often be very\nuseful in inferior positions in War, because the action in War over\nwhich commanders in inferior positions have control is generally of\nshorter duration. Here one courageous resolution, one effervescence of\nthe forces of the soul, will often suffice. A brave attack, a\nsoul-stirring hurrah, is the work of a few moments, whilst a brave\ncontest on the battle-field is the work of a day, and a campaign the\nwork of a year.\n\nOwing to the rapid movement of their feelings, it is doubly difficult\nfor men of this description to preserve equilibrium of the mind;\ntherefore they frequently lose head, and that is the worst phase in\ntheir nature as respects the conduct of War. But it would be contrary\nto experience to maintain that very excitable spirits can never\npreserve a steady equilibrium\u2014that is to say, that they cannot do so\neven under the strongest excitement. Why should they not have the\nsentiment of self-respect, for, as a rule, they are men of a noble\nnature? This feeling is seldom wanting in them, but it has not time to\nproduce an effect. After an outburst they suffer most from a feeling of\ninward humiliation. If through education, self-observance, and\nexperience of life, they have learned, sooner or later, the means of\nbeing on their guard, so that at the moment of powerful excitement they\nare conscious betimes of the counteracting force within their own\nbreasts, then even such men may have great strength of mind.\n\nLastly, those who are difficult to move, but on that account\nsusceptible of very deep feelings, men who stand in the same relation\nto the preceding as red heat to a flame, are the best adapted by means\nof their Titanic strength to roll away the enormous masses by which we\nmay figuratively represent the difficulties which beset command in War.\nThe effect of their feelings is like the movement of a great body,\nslower, but more irresistible.\n\nAlthough such men are not so likely to be suddenly surprised by their\nfeelings and carried away so as to be afterwards ashamed of themselves,\nlike the preceding, still it would be contrary to experience to believe\nthat they can never lose their equanimity, or be overcome by blind\npassion; on the contrary, this must always happen whenever the noble\npride of self-control is wanting, or as often as it has not sufficient\nweight. We see examples of this most frequently in men of noble minds\nbelonging to savage nations, where the low degree of mental cultivation\nfavours always the dominance of the passions. But even amongst the most\ncivilised classes in civilised States, life is full of examples of this\nkind\u2014of men carried away by the violence of their passions, like the\npoacher of old chained to the stag in the forest.\n\nWe therefore say once more a strong mind is not one that is merely\nsusceptible of strong excitement, but one which can maintain its\nserenity under the most powerful excitement, so that, in spite of the\nstorm in the breast, the perception and judgment can act with perfect\nfreedom, like the needle of the compass in the storm-tossed ship.\n\nBy the term _strength of character_, or simply _character_, is denoted\ntenacity of conviction, let it be the result of our own or of others\u2019\nviews, and whether they are principles, opinions, momentary\ninspirations, or any kind of emanations of the understanding; but this\nkind of firmness certainly cannot manifest itself if the views\nthemselves are subject to frequent change. This frequent change need\nnot be the consequence of external influences; it may proceed from the\ncontinuous activity of our own mind, in which case it indicates a\ncharacteristic unsteadiness of mind. Evidently we should not say of a\nman who changes his views every moment, however much the motives of\nchange may originate with himself, that he has character. Only those\nmen, therefore, can be said to have this quality whose conviction is\nvery constant, either because it is deeply rooted and clear in itself,\nlittle liable to alteration, or because, as in the case of indolent\nmen, there is a want of mental activity, and therefore a want of\nmotives to change; or lastly, because an explicit act of the will,\nderived from an imperative maxim of the understanding, refuses any\nchange of opinion up to a certain point.\n\nNow in War, owing to the many and powerful impressions to which the\nmind is exposed, and in the uncertainty of all knowledge and of all\nscience, more things occur to distract a man from the road he has\nentered upon, to make him doubt himself and others, than in any other\nhuman activity.\n\nThe harrowing sight of danger and suffering easily leads to the\nfeelings gaining ascendency over the conviction of the understanding;\nand in the twilight which surrounds everything a deep clear view is so\ndifficult that a change of opinion is more conceivable and more\npardonable. It is, at all times, only conjecture or guesses at truth\nwhich we have to act upon. This is why differences of opinion are\nnowhere so great as in War, and the stream of impressions acting\ncounter to one\u2019s own convictions never ceases to flow. Even the\ngreatest impassibility of mind is hardly proof against them, because\nthe impressions are powerful in their nature, and always act at the\nsame time upon the feelings.\n\nWhen the discernment is clear and deep, none but general principles and\nviews of action from a high standpoint can be the result; and on these\nprinciples the opinion in each particular case immediately under\nconsideration lies, as it were, at anchor. But to keep to these results\nof bygone reflection, in opposition to the stream of opinions and\nphenomena which the present brings with it, is just the difficulty.\nBetween the particular case and the principle there is often a wide\nspace which cannot always be traversed on a visible chain of\nconclusions, and where a certain faith in self is necessary and a\ncertain amount of scepticism is serviceable. Here often nothing else\nwill help us but an imperative maxim which, independent of reflection,\nat once controls it: that maxim is, in all doubtful cases to adhere to\nthe first opinion, and not to give it up until a clear conviction\nforces us to do so. We must firmly believe in the superior authority of\nwell-tried maxims, and under the dazzling influence of momentary events\nnot forget that their value is of an inferior stamp. By this preference\nwhich in doubtful cases we give to first convictions, by adherence to\nthe same our actions acquire that stability and consistency which make\nup what is called character.\n\nIt is easy to see how essential a well-balanced mind is to strength of\ncharacter; therefore men of strong minds generally have a great deal of\ncharacter.\n\nForce of character leads us to a spurious variety of it\u2014OBSTINACY.\n\nIt is often very difficult in concrete cases to say where the one ends\nand the other begins; on the other hand, it does not seem difficult to\ndetermine the difference in idea.\n\nObstinacy is no fault of the understanding; we use the term as denoting\na resistance against our better judgment, and it would be inconsistent\nto charge that to the understanding, as the understanding is the power\nof judgment. Obstinacy is A FAULT OF THE FEELINGS or heart. This\ninflexibility of will, this impatience of contradiction, have their\norigin only in a particular kind of egotism, which sets above every\nother pleasure that of governing both self and others by its own mind\nalone. We should call it a kind of vanity, were it not decidedly\nsomething better. Vanity is satisfied with mere show, but obstinacy\nrests upon the enjoyment of the thing.\n\nWe say, therefore, force of character degenerates into obstinacy\nwhenever the resistance to opposing judgments proceeds not from better\nconvictions or a reliance upon a trustworthy maxim, but from a feeling\nof opposition. If this definition, as we have already admitted, is of\nlittle assistance practically, still it will prevent obstinacy from\nbeing considered merely force of character intensified, whilst it is\nsomething essentially different\u2014something which certainly lies close to\nit and is cognate to it, but is at the same time so little an\nintensification of it that there are very obstinate men who from want\nof understanding have very little force of character.\n\nHaving in these high attributes of a great military Commander made\nourselves acquainted with those qualities in which heart and head\nco-operate, we now come to a speciality of military activity which\nperhaps may be looked upon as the most marked if it is not the most\nimportant, and which only makes a demand on the power of the mind\nwithout regard to the forces of feelings. It is the connection which\nexists between War and country or ground.\n\nThis connection is, in the first place, a permanent condition of War,\nfor it is impossible to imagine our organised Armies effecting any\noperation otherwise than in some given space; it is, secondly, of the\nmost decisive importance, because it modifies, at times completely\nalters, the action of all forces; thirdly, while on the one hand it\noften concerns the most minute features of locality, on the other it\nmay apply to immense tracts of country.\n\nIn this manner a great peculiarity is given to the effect of this\nconnection of War with country and ground. If we think of other\noccupations of man which have a relation to these objects, on\nhorticulture, agriculture, on building houses and hydraulic works, on\nmining, on the chase, and forestry, they are all confined within very\nlimited spaces which may be soon explored with sufficient exactness.\nBut the Commander in War must commit the business he has in hand to a\ncorresponding space which his eye cannot survey, which the keenest zeal\ncannot always explore, and with which, owing to the constant changes\ntaking place, he can also seldom become properly acquainted. Certainly\nthe enemy generally is in the same situation; still, in the first\nplace, the difficulty, although common to both, is not the less a\ndifficulty, and he who by talent and practice overcomes it will have a\ngreat advantage on his side; secondly, this equality of the difficulty\non both sides is merely an abstract supposition which is rarely\nrealised in the particular case, as one of the two opponents (the\ndefensive) usually knows much more of the locality than his adversary.\n\nThis very peculiar difficulty must be overcome by a natural mental gift\nof a special kind which is known by the\u2014too restricted\u2014term of\n_Ortsinn_ sense of locality. It is the power of quickly forming a\ncorrect geometrical idea of any portion of country, and consequently of\nbeing able to find one\u2019s place in it exactly at any time. This is\nplainly an act of the imagination. The perception no doubt is formed\npartly by means of the physical eye, partly by the mind, which fills up\nwhat is wanting with ideas derived from knowledge and experience, and\nout of the fragments visible to the physical eye forms a whole; but\nthat this whole should present itself vividly to the reason, should\nbecome a picture, a mentally drawn map, that this picture should be\nfixed, that the details should never again separate themselves\u2014all that\ncan only be effected by the mental faculty which we call imagination.\nIf some great poet or painter should feel hurt that we require from his\ngoddess such an office; if he shrugs his shoulders at the notion that a\nsharp gamekeeper must necessarily excel in imagination, we readily\ngrant that we only speak here of imagination in a limited sense, of its\nservice in a really menial capacity. But, however slight this service,\nstill it must be the work of that natural gift, for if that gift is\nwanting, it would be difficult to imagine things plainly in all the\ncompleteness of the visible. That a good memory is a great assistance\nwe freely allow, but whether memory is to be considered as an\nindependent faculty of the mind in this case, or whether it is just\nthat power of imagination which here fixes these things better on the\nmemory, we leave undecided, as in many respects it seems difficult upon\nthe whole to conceive these two mental powers apart from each other.\n\nThat practice and mental acuteness have much to do with it is not to be\ndenied. Puysegur, the celebrated Quartermaster-General of the famous\nLuxemburg, used to say that he had very little confidence in himself in\nthis respect at first, because if he had to fetch the _parole_ from a\ndistance he always lost his way.\n\nIt is natural that scope for the exercise of this talent should\nincrease along with rank. If the hussar and rifleman in command of a\npatrol must know well all the highways and byways, and if for that a\nfew marks, a few limited powers of observation, are sufficient, the\nChief of an Army must make himself familiar with the general\ngeographical features of a province and of a country; must always have\nvividly before his eyes the direction of the roads, rivers, and hills,\nwithout at the same time being able to dispense with the narrower\n\u201csense of locality\u201d (_Ortsinn_). No doubt, information of various kinds\nas to objects in general, maps, books, memoirs, and for details the\nassistance of his Staff, are a great help to him; but it is\nnevertheless certain that if he has himself a talent for forming an\nideal picture of a country quickly and distinctly, it lends to his\naction an easier and firmer step, saves him from a certain mental\nhelplessness, and makes him less dependent on others.\n\nIf this talent then is to be ascribed to imagination, it is also almost\nthe only service which military activity requires from that erratic\ngoddess, whose influence is more hurtful than useful in other respects.\n\nWe think we have now passed in review those manifestations of the\npowers of mind and soul which military activity requires from human\nnature. Everywhere intellect appears as an essential co-operative\nforce; and thus we can understand how the work of War, although so\nplain and simple in its effects, can never be conducted with\ndistinguished success by people without distinguished powers of the\nunderstanding.\n\nWhen we have reached this view, then we need no longer look upon such a\nnatural idea as the turning an enemy\u2019s position, which has been done a\nthousand times, and a hundred other similar conceptions, as the result\nof a great effort of genius.\n\nCertainly one is accustomed to regard the plain honest soldier as the\nvery opposite of the man of reflection, full of inventions and ideas,\nor of the brilliant spirit shining in the ornaments of refined\neducation of every kind. This antithesis is also by no means devoid of\ntruth; but it does not show that the efficiency of the soldier consists\nonly in his courage, and that there is no particular energy and\ncapacity of the brain required in addition to make a man merely what is\ncalled a true soldier. We must again repeat that there is nothing more\ncommon than to hear of men losing their energy on being raised to a\nhigher position, to which they do not feel themselves equal; but we\nmust also remind our readers that we are speaking of pre-eminent\nservices, of such as give renown in the branch of activity to which\nthey belong. Each grade of command in War therefore forms its own\nstratum of requisite capacity of fame and honour.\n\nAn immense space lies between a General\u2014that is, one at the head of a\nwhole War, or of a theatre of War\u2014and his Second in Command, for the\nsimple reason that the latter is in more immediate subordination to a\nsuperior authority and supervision, consequently is restricted to a\nmore limited sphere of independent thought. This is why common opinion\nsees no room for the exercise of high talent except in high places, and\nlooks upon an ordinary capacity as sufficient for all beneath: this is\nwhy people are rather inclined to look upon a subordinate General grown\ngrey in the service, and in whom constant discharge of routine duties\nhas produced a decided poverty of mind, as a man of failing intellect,\nand, with all respect for his bravery, to laugh at his simplicity. It\nis not our object to gain for these brave men a better lot\u2014that would\ncontribute nothing to their efficiency, and little to their happiness;\nwe only wish to represent things as they are, and to expose the error\nof believing that a mere bravo without intellect can make himself\ndistinguished in War.\n\nAs we consider distinguished talents requisite for those who are to\nattain distinction, even in inferior positions, it naturally follows\nthat we think highly of those who fill with renown the place of Second\nin Command of an Army; and their seeming simplicity of character as\ncompared with a polyhistor, with ready men of business, or with\ncouncillors of state, must not lead us astray as to the superior nature\nof their intellectual activity. It happens sometimes that men import\nthe fame gained in an inferior position into a higher one, without in\nreality deserving it in the new position; and then if they are not much\nemployed, and therefore not much exposed to the risk of showing their\nweak points, the judgment does not distinguish very exactly what degree\nof fame is really due to them; and thus such men are often the occasion\nof too low an estimate being formed of the characteristics required to\nshine in certain situations.\n\nFor each station, from the lowest upwards, to render distinguished\nservices in War, there must be a particular genius. But the title of\ngenius, history and the judgment of posterity only confer, in general,\non those minds which have shone in the highest rank, that of\nCommanders-in-Chief. The reason is that here, in point of fact, the\ndemand on the reasoning and intellectual powers generally is much\ngreater.\n\nTo conduct a whole War, or its great acts, which we call campaigns, to\na successful termination, there must be an intimate knowledge of State\npolicy in its higher relations. The conduct of the War and the policy\nof the State here coincide, and the General becomes at the same time\nthe Statesman.\n\nWe do not give Charles XII. the name of a great genius, because he\ncould not make the power of his sword subservient to a higher judgment\nand philosophy\u2014could not attain by it to a glorious object. We do not\ngive that title to Henry IV. (of France), because he did not live long\nenough to set at rest the relations of different States by his military\nactivity, and to occupy himself in that higher field where noble\nfeelings and a chivalrous disposition have less to do in mastering the\nenemy than in overcoming internal dissension.\n\nIn order that the reader may appreciate all that must be comprehended\nand judged of correctly at a glance by a General, we refer to the first\nchapter. We say the General becomes a Statesman, but he must not cease\nto be the General. He takes into view all the relations of the State on\nthe one hand; on the other, he must know exactly what he can do with\nthe means at his disposal.\n\nAs the diversity, and undefined limits, of all the circumstances bring\na great number of factors into consideration in War, as the most of\nthese factors can only be estimated according to probability,\ntherefore, if the Chief of an Army does not bring to bear upon them a\nmind with an intuitive perception of the truth, a confusion of ideas\nand views must take place, in the midst of which the judgment will\nbecome bewildered. In this sense, Buonaparte was right when he said\nthat many of the questions which come before a General for decision\nwould make problems for a mathematical calculation not unworthy of the\npowers of Newton or Euler.\n\nWhat is here required from the higher powers of the mind is a sense of\nunity, and a judgment raised to such a compass as to give the mind an\nextraordinary faculty of vision which in its range allays and sets\naside a thousand dim notions which an ordinary understanding could only\nbring to light with great effort, and over which it would exhaust\nitself. But this higher activity of the mind, this glance of genius,\nwould still not become matter of history if the qualities of\ntemperament and character of which we have treated did not give it\ntheir support.\n\nTruth alone is but a weak motive of action with men, and hence there is\nalways a great difference between knowing and action, between science\nand art. The man receives the strongest impulse to action through the\nfeelings, and the most powerful succour, if we may use the expression,\nthrough those faculties of heart and mind which we have considered\nunder the terms of resolution, firmness, perseverance, and force of\ncharacter.\n\nIf, however, this elevated condition of heart and mind in the General\ndid not manifest itself in the general effects resulting from it, and\ncould only be accepted on trust and faith, then it would rarely become\nmatter of history.\n\nAll that becomes known of the course of events in War is usually very\nsimple, and has a great sameness in appearance; no one on the mere\nrelation of such events perceives the difficulties connected with them\nwhich had to be overcome. It is only now and again, in the memoirs of\nGenerals or of those in their confidence, or by reason of some special\nhistorical inquiry directed to a particular circumstance, that a\nportion of the many threads composing the whole web is brought to\nlight. The reflections, mental doubts, and conflicts which precede the\nexecution of great acts are purposely concealed because they affect\npolitical interests, or the recollection of them is accidentally lost\nbecause they have been looked upon as mere scaffolding which had to be\nremoved on the completion of the building.\n\nIf, now, in conclusion, without venturing upon a closer definition of\nthe higher powers of the soul, we should admit a distinction in the\nintelligent faculties themselves according to the common ideas\nestablished by language, and ask ourselves what kind of mind comes\nclosest to military genius, then a look at the subject as well as at\nexperience will tell us that searching rather than inventive minds,\ncomprehensive minds rather than such as have a special bent, cool\nrather than fiery heads, are those to which in time of War we should\nprefer to trust the welfare of our women and children, the honour and\nthe safety of our fatherland.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Of Danger in War\n\nUsually before we have learnt what danger really is, we form an idea of\nit which is rather attractive than repulsive. In the intoxication of\nenthusiasm, to fall upon the enemy at the charge\u2014who cares then about\nbullets and men falling? To throw oneself, blinded by excitement for a\nmoment, against cold death, uncertain whether we or another shall\nescape him, and all this close to the golden gate of victory, close to\nthe rich fruit which ambition thirsts for\u2014can this be difficult? It\nwill not be difficult, and still less will it appear so. But such\nmoments, which, however, are not the work of a single pulse-beat, as is\nsupposed, but rather like doctors\u2019 draughts, must be taken diluted and\nspoilt by mixture with time\u2014such moments, we say, are but few.\n\nLet us accompany the novice to the battle-field. As we approach, the\nthunder of the cannon becoming plainer and plainer is soon followed by\nthe howling of shot, which attracts the attention of the inexperienced.\nBalls begin to strike the ground close to us, before and behind. We\nhasten to the hill where stands the General and his numerous Staff.\nHere the close striking of the cannon balls and the bursting of shells\nis so frequent that the seriousness of life makes itself visible\nthrough the youthful picture of imagination. Suddenly some one known to\nus falls\u2014a shell strikes amongst the crowd and causes some involuntary\nmovements\u2014we begin to feel that we are no longer perfectly at ease and\ncollected; even the bravest is at least to some degree confused. Now, a\nstep farther into the battle which is raging before us like a scene in\na theatre, we get to the nearest General of Division; here ball follows\nball, and the noise of our own guns increases the confusion. From the\nGeneral of Division to the Brigadier. He, a man of acknowledged\nbravery, keeps carefully behind a rising ground, a house, or a tree\u2014a\nsure sign of increasing danger. Grape rattles on the roofs of the\nhouses and in the fields; cannon balls howl over us, and plough the air\nin all directions, and soon there is a frequent whistling of musket\nballs. A step farther towards the troops, to that sturdy infantry which\nfor hours has maintained its firmness under this heavy fire; here the\nair is filled with the hissing of balls which announce their proximity\nby a short sharp noise as they pass within an inch of the ear, the\nhead, or the breast.\n\nTo add to all this, compassion strikes the beating heart with pity at\nthe sight of the maimed and fallen. The young soldier cannot reach any\nof these different strata of danger without feeling that the light of\nreason does not move here in the same medium, that it is not refracted\nin the same manner as in speculative contemplation. Indeed, he must be\na very extraordinary man who, under these impressions for the first\ntime, does not lose the power of making any instantaneous decisions. It\nis true that habit soon blunts such impressions; in half in hour we\nbegin to be more or less indifferent to all that is going on around us:\nbut an ordinary character never attains to complete coolness and the\nnatural elasticity of mind; and so we perceive that here again ordinary\nqualities will not suffice\u2014a thing which gains truth, the wider the\nsphere of activity which is to be filled. Enthusiastic, stoical,\nnatural bravery, great ambition, or also long familiarity with\ndanger\u2014much of all this there must be if all the effects produced in\nthis resistant medium are not to fall far short of that which in the\nstudent\u2019s chamber may appear only the ordinary standard.\n\nDanger in War belongs to its friction; a correct idea of its influence\nis necessary for truth of perception, and therefore it is brought under\nnotice here.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Of Bodily Exertion in War\n\nIf no one were allowed to pass an opinion on the events of War, except\nat a moment when he is benumbed by frost, sinking from heat and thirst,\nor dying with hunger and fatigue, we should certainly have fewer\njudgments correct _objectively;_ but they would be so, _subjectively_,\nat least; that is, they would contain in themselves the exact relation\nbetween the person giving the judgment and the object. We can perceive\nthis by observing how modestly subdued, even spiritless and desponding,\nis the opinion passed upon the results of untoward events by those who\nhave been eye-witnesses, but especially if they have been parties\nconcerned. This is, according to our view, a criterion of the influence\nwhich bodily fatigue exercises, and of the allowance to be made for it\nin matters of opinion.\n\nAmongst the many things in War for which no tariff can be fixed, bodily\neffort may be specially reckoned. Provided there is no waste, it is a\ncoefficient of all the forces, and no one can tell exactly to what\nextent it may be carried. But what is remarkable is, that just as only\na strong arm enables the archer to stretch the bowstring to the utmost\nextent, so also in War it is only by means of a great directing spirit\nthat we can expect the full power latent in the troops to be developed.\nFor it is one thing if an Army, in consequence of great misfortunes,\nsurrounded with danger, falls all to pieces like a wall that has been\nthrown down, and can only find safety in the utmost exertion of its\nbodily strength; it is another thing entirely when a victorious Army,\ndrawn on by proud feelings only, is conducted at the will of its Chief.\nThe same effort which in the one case might at most excite our pity\nmust in the other call forth our admiration, because it is much more\ndifficult to sustain.\n\nBy this comes to light for the inexperienced eye one of those things\nwhich put fetters in the dark, as it were, on the action of the mind,\nand wear out in secret the powers of the soul.\n\nAlthough here the question is strictly only respecting the extreme\neffort required by a Commander from his Army, by a leader from his\nfollowers, therefore of the spirit to demand it and of the art of\ngetting it, still the personal physical exertion of Generals and of the\nChief Commander must not be overlooked. Having brought the analysis of\nWar conscientiously up to this point, we could not but take account\nalso of the weight of this small remaining residue.\n\nWe have spoken here of bodily effort, chiefly because, like danger, it\nbelongs to the fundamental causes of friction, and because its\nindefinite quantity makes it like an elastic body, the friction of\nwhich is well known to be difficult to calculate.\n\nTo check the abuse of these considerations, of such a survey of things\nwhich aggravate the difficulties of War, nature has given our judgment\na guide in our sensibilities, just as an individual cannot with\nadvantage refer to his personal deficiencies if he is insulted and\nill-treated, but may well do so if he has successfully repelled the\naffront, or has fully revenged it, so no Commander or Army will lessen\nthe impression of a disgraceful defeat by depicting the danger, the\ndistress, the exertions, things which would immensely enhance the glory\nof a victory. Thus our feeling, which after all is only a higher kind\nof judgment, forbids us to do what seems an act of justice to which our\njudgment would be inclined.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Information in War\n\nBy the word \u201cinformation\u201d we denote all the knowledge which we have of\nthe enemy and his country; therefore, in fact, the foundation of all\nour ideas and actions. Let us just consider the nature of this\nfoundation, its want of trustworthiness, its changefulness, and we\nshall soon feel what a dangerous edifice War is, how easily it may fall\nto pieces and bury us in its ruins. For although it is a maxim in all\nbooks that we should trust only certain information, that we must be\nalways suspicious, that is only a miserable book comfort, belonging to\nthat description of knowledge in which writers of systems and\ncompendiums take refuge for want of anything better to say.\n\nGreat part of the information obtained in War is contradictory, a still\ngreater part is false, and by far the greatest part is of a doubtful\ncharacter. What is required of an officer is a certain power of\ndiscrimination, which only knowledge of men and things and good\njudgment can give. The law of probability must be his guide. This is\nnot a trifling difficulty even in respect of the first plans, which can\nbe formed in the chamber outside the real sphere of War, but it is\nenormously increased when in the thick of War itself one report follows\nhard upon the heels of another; it is then fortunate if these reports\nin contradicting each other show a certain balance of probability, and\nthus themselves call forth a scrutiny. It is much worse for the\ninexperienced when accident does not render him this service, but one\nreport supports another, confirms it, magnifies it, finishes off the\npicture with fresh touches of colour, until necessity in urgent haste\nforces from us a resolution which will soon be discovered to be folly,\nall those reports having been lies, exaggerations, errors, &c. &c. In a\nfew words, most reports are false, and the timidity of men acts as a\nmultiplier of lies and untruths. As a general rule, every one is more\ninclined to lend credence to the bad than the good. Every one is\ninclined to magnify the bad in some measure, and although the alarms\nwhich are thus propagated like the waves of the sea subside into\nthemselves, still, like them, without any apparent cause they rise\nagain. Firm in reliance on his own better convictions, the Chief must\nstand like a rock against which the sea breaks its fury in vain. The\n_r\u00f4le_ is not easy; he who is not by nature of a buoyant disposition,\nor trained by experience in War, and matured in judgment, may let it be\nhis rule to do violence to his own natural conviction by inclining from\nthe side of fear to that of hope; only by that means will he be able to\npreserve his balance. This difficulty of seeing things correctly, which\nis one of the greatest sources of friction in War, makes things appear\nquite different from what was expected. The impression of the senses is\nstronger than the force of the ideas resulting from methodical\nreflection, and this goes so far that no important undertaking was ever\nyet carried out without the Commander having to subdue new doubts in\nhimself at the time of commencing the execution of his work. Ordinary\nmen who follow the suggestions of others become, therefore, generally\nundecided on the spot; they think that they have found circumstances\ndifferent from what they had expected, and this view gains strength by\ntheir again yielding to the suggestions of others. But even the man who\nhas made his own plans, when he comes to see things with his own eyes\nwill often think he has done wrong. Firm reliance on self must make him\nproof against the seeming pressure of the moment; his first conviction\nwill in the end prove true, when the foreground scenery which fate has\npushed on to the stage of War, with its accompaniments of terrific\nobjects, is drawn aside and the horizon extended. This is one of the\ngreat chasms which separate _conception_ from _execution_.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Friction in War\n\nAs long as we have no personal knowledge of War, we cannot conceive\nwhere those difficulties lie of which so much is said, and what that\ngenius and those extraordinary mental powers required in a General have\nreally to do. All appears so simple, all the requisite branches of\nknowledge appear so plain, all the combinations so unimportant, that in\ncomparison with them the easiest problem in higher mathematics\nimpresses us with a certain scientific dignity. But if we have seen\nWar, all becomes intelligible; and still, after all, it is extremely\ndifficult to describe what it is which brings about this change, to\nspecify this invisible and completely efficient factor.\n\nEverything is very simple in War, but the simplest thing is difficult.\nThese difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can\nimagine exactly who has not seen War, Suppose now a traveller, who\ntowards evening expects to accomplish the two stages at the end of his\nday\u2019s journey, four or five leagues, with post-horses, on the high\nroad\u2014it is nothing. He arrives now at the last station but one, finds\nno horses, or very bad ones; then a hilly country, bad roads; it is a\ndark night, and he is glad when, after a great deal of trouble, he\nreaches the next station, and finds there some miserable accommodation.\nSo in War, through the influence of an infinity of petty circumstances,\nwhich cannot properly be described on paper, things disappoint us, and\nwe fall short of the mark. A powerful iron will overcomes this\nfriction; it crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine along\nwith them. We shall often meet with this result. Like an obelisk\ntowards which the principal streets of a town converge, the strong will\nof a proud spirit stands prominent and commanding in the middle of the\nArt of War.\n\nFriction is the only conception which in a general way corresponds to\nthat which distinguishes real War from War on paper. The military\nmachine, the Army and all belonging to it, is in fact simple, and\nappears on this account easy to manage. But let us reflect that no part\nof it is in one piece, that it is composed entirely of individuals,\neach of which keeps up its own friction in all directions.\nTheoretically all sounds very well: the commander of a battalion is\nresponsible for the execution of the order given; and as the battalion\nby its discipline is glued together into one piece, and the chief must\nbe a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an iron pin with\nlittle friction. But it is not so in reality, and all that is\nexaggerated and false in such a conception manifests itself at once in\nWar. The battalion always remains composed of a number of men, of whom,\nif chance so wills, the most insignificant is able to occasion delay\nand even irregularity. The danger which War brings with it, the bodily\nexertions which it requires, augment this evil so much that they may be\nregarded as the greatest causes of it.\n\nThis enormous friction, which is not concentrated, as in mechanics, at\na few points, is therefore everywhere brought into contact with chance,\nand thus incidents take place upon which it was impossible to\ncalculate, their chief origin being chance. As an instance of one such\nchance: the weather. Here the fog prevents the enemy from being\ndiscovered in time, a battery from firing at the right moment, a report\nfrom reaching the General; there the rain prevents a battalion from\narriving at the right time, because instead of for three it had to\nmarch perhaps eight hours; the cavalry from charging effectively\nbecause it is stuck fast in heavy ground.\n\nThese are only a few incidents of detail by way of elucidation, that\nthe reader may be able to follow the author, for whole volumes might be\nwritten on these difficulties. To avoid this, and still to give a clear\nconception of the host of small difficulties to be contended with in\nWar, we might go on heaping up illustrations, if we were not afraid of\nbeing tiresome. But those who have already comprehended us will permit\nus to add a few more.\n\nActivity in War is movement in a resistant medium. Just as a man\nimmersed in water is unable to perform with ease and regularity the\nmost natural and simplest movement, that of walking, so in War, with\nordinary powers, one cannot keep even the line of mediocrity. This is\nthe reason that the correct theorist is like a swimming master, who\nteaches on dry land movements which are required in the water, which\nmust appear grotesque and ludicrous to those who forget about the\nwater. This is also why theorists, who have never plunged in\nthemselves, or who cannot deduce any generalities from their\nexperience, are unpractical and even absurd, because they only teach\nwhat every one knows\u2014how to walk.\n\nFurther, every War is rich in particular facts, while at the same time\neach is an unexplored sea, full of rocks which the General may have a\nsuspicion of, but which he has never seen with his eye, and round\nwhich, moreover, he must steer in the night. If a contrary wind also\nsprings up, that is, if any great accidental event declares itself\nadverse to him, then the most consummate skill, presence of mind, and\nenergy are required, whilst to those who only look on from a distance\nall seems to proceed with the utmost ease. The knowledge of this\nfriction is a chief part of that so often talked of, experience in War,\nwhich is required in a good General. Certainly he is not the best\nGeneral in whose mind it assumes the greatest dimensions, who is the\nmost over-awed by it (this includes that class of over-anxious\nGenerals, of whom there are so many amongst the experienced); but a\nGeneral must be aware of it that he may overcome it, where that is\npossible, and that he may not expect a degree of precision in results\nwhich is impossible on account of this very friction. Besides, it can\nnever be learnt theoretically; and if it could, there would still be\nwanting that experience of judgment which is called tact, and which is\nalways more necessary in a field full of innumerable small and\ndiversified objects than in great and decisive cases, when one\u2019s own\njudgment may be aided by consultation with others. Just as the man of\nthe world, through tact of judgment which has become habit, speaks,\nacts, and moves only as suits the occasion, so the officer experienced\nin War will always, in great and small matters, at every pulsation of\nWar as we may say, decide and determine suitably to the occasion.\nThrough this experience and practice the idea comes to his mind of\nitself that so and so will not suit. And thus he will not easily place\nhimself in a position by which he is compromised, which, if it often\noccurs in War, shakes all the foundations of confidence and becomes\nextremely dangerous.\n\nIt is therefore this friction, or what is so termed here, which makes\nthat which appears easy in War difficult in reality. As we proceed, we\nshall often meet with this subject again, and it will hereafter become\nplain that besides experience and a strong will, there are still many\nother rare qualities of the mind required to make a man a consummate\nGeneral.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Concluding Remarks, Book I\n\nThose things which as elements meet together in the atmosphere of War\nand make it a resistant medium for every activity we have designated\nunder the terms danger, bodily effort (exertion), information, and\nfriction. In their impedient effects they may therefore be comprehended\nagain in the collective notion of a general friction. Now is there,\nthen, no kind of oil which is capable of diminishing this friction?\nOnly one, and that one is not always available at the will of the\nCommander or his Army. It is the habituation of an Army to War.\n\nHabit gives strength to the body in great exertion, to the mind in\ngreat danger, to the judgment against first impressions. By it a\nvaluable circumspection is generally gained throughout every rank, from\nthe hussar and rifleman up to the General of Division, which\nfacilitates the work of the Chief Commander.\n\nAs the human eye in a dark room dilates its pupil, draws in the little\nlight that there is, partially distinguishes objects by degrees, and at\nlast knows them quite well, so it is in War with the experienced\nsoldier, whilst the novice is only met by pitch dark night.\n\nHabituation to War no General can give his Army at once, and the camps\nof man\u0153uvre (peace exercises) furnish but a weak substitute for it,\nweak in comparison with real experience in War, but not weak in\nrelation to other Armies in which the training is limited to mere\nmechanical exercises of routine. So to regulate the exercises in peace\ntime as to include some of these causes of friction, that the judgment,\ncircumspection, even resolution of the separate leaders may be brought\ninto exercise, is of much greater consequence than those believe who do\nnot know the thing by experience. It is of immense importance that the\nsoldier, high or low, whatever rank he has, should not have to\nencounter in War those things which, when seen for the first time, set\nhim in astonishment and perplexity; if he has only met with them one\nsingle time before, even by that he is half acquainted with them. This\nrelates even to bodily fatigues. They should be practised less to\naccustom the body to them than the mind. In War the young soldier is\nvery apt to regard unusual fatigues as the consequence of faults,\nmistakes, and embarrassment in the conduct of the whole, and to become\ndistressed and despondent as a consequence. This would not happen if he\nhad been prepared for this beforehand by exercises in peace.\n\nAnother less comprehensive but still very important means of gaining\nhabituation to War in time of peace is to invite into the service\nofficers of foreign armies who have had experience in War. Peace seldom\nreigns over all Europe, and never in all quarters of the world. A State\nwhich has been long at peace should, therefore, always seek to procure\nsome officers who have done good service at the different scenes of\nWarfare, or to send there some of its own, that they may get a lesson\nin War.\n\nHowever small the number of officers of this description may appear in\nproportion to the mass, still their influence is very sensibly felt.(*)\nTheir experience, the bent of their genius, the stamp of their\ncharacter, influence their subordinates and comrades; and besides that,\nif they cannot be placed in positions of superior command, they may\nalways be regarded as men acquainted with the country, who may be\nquestioned on many special occasions.\n\n(*) The War of 1870 furnishes a marked illustration. Von Moltke and von\nGoeben, not to mention many others, had both seen service in this\nmanner, the former in Turkey and Syria, the latter in Spain\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\n\nBOOK II. ON THE THEORY OF WAR\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Branches of the Art of War\n\nWar in its literal meaning is fighting, for fighting alone is the\nefficient principle in the manifold activity which in a wide sense is\ncalled War. But fighting is a trial of strength of the moral and\nphysical forces by means of the latter. That the moral cannot be\nomitted is evident of itself, for the condition of the mind has always\nthe most decisive influence on the forces employed in War.\n\nThe necessity of fighting very soon led men to special inventions to\nturn the advantage in it in their own favour: in consequence of these\nthe mode of fighting has undergone great alterations; but in whatever\nway it is conducted its conception remains unaltered, and fighting is\nthat which constitutes War.\n\nThe inventions have been from the first weapons and equipments for the\nindividual combatants. These have to be provided and the use of them\nlearnt before the War begins. They are made suitable to the nature of\nthe fighting, consequently are ruled by it; but plainly the activity\nengaged in these appliances is a different thing from the fight itself;\nit is only the preparation for the combat, not the conduct of the same.\nThat arming and equipping are not essential to the conception of\nfighting is plain, because mere wrestling is also fighting.\n\nFighting has determined everything appertaining to arms and equipment,\nand these in turn modify the mode of fighting; there is, therefore, a\nreciprocity of action between the two.\n\nNevertheless, the fight itself remains still an entirely special\nactivity, more particularly because it moves in an entirely special\nelement, namely, in the element of danger.\n\nIf, then, there is anywhere a necessity for drawing a line between two\ndifferent activities, it is here; and in order to see clearly the\nimportance of this idea, we need only just to call to mind how often\neminent personal fitness in one field has turned out nothing but the\nmost useless pedantry in the other.\n\nIt is also in no way difficult to separate in idea the one activity\nfrom the other, if we look at the combatant forces fully armed and\nequipped as a given means, the profitable use of which requires nothing\nmore than a knowledge of their general results.\n\nThe Art of War is therefore, in its proper sense, the art of making use\nof the given means in fighting, and we cannot give it a better name\nthan the \u201c_Conduct of War_.\u201d On the other hand, in a wider sense all\nactivities which have their existence on account of War, therefore the\nwhole creation of troops, that is levying them, arming, equipping, and\nexercising them, belong to the Art of War.\n\nTo make a sound theory it is most essential to separate these two\nactivities, for it is easy to see that if every act of War is to begin\nwith the preparation of military forces, and to presuppose forces so\norganised as a primary condition for conducting War, that theory will\nonly be applicable in the few cases to which the force available\nhappens to be exactly suited. If, on the other hand, we wish to have a\ntheory which shall suit most cases, and will not be wholly useless in\nany case, it must be founded on those means which are in most general\nuse, and in respect to these only on the actual results springing from\nthem.\n\nThe conduct of War is, therefore, the formation and conduct of the\nfighting. If this fighting was a single act, there would be no\nnecessity for any further subdivision, but the fight is composed of a\ngreater or less number of single acts, complete in themselves, which we\ncall combats, as we have shown in the first chapter of the first book,\nand which form new units. From this arises the totally different\nactivities, that of the _formation_ and _conduct_ of these single\ncombats in themselves, and the _combination_ of them with one another,\nwith a view to the ultimate object of the War. The first is called\n_tactics_, the other _strategy_.\n\nThis division into tactics and strategy is now in almost general use,\nand every one knows tolerably well under which head to place any single\nfact, without knowing very distinctly the grounds on which the\nclassification is founded. But when such divisions are blindly adhered\nto in practice, they must have some deep root. We have searched for\nthis root, and we might say that it is just the usage of the majority\nwhich has brought us to it. On the other hand, we look upon the\narbitrary, unnatural definitions of these conceptions sought to be\nestablished by some writers as not in accordance with the general usage\nof the terms.\n\nAccording to our classification, therefore, tactics _is the theory of\nthe use of military forces in combat_. Strategy _is the theory of the\nuse of combats for the object of the War_.\n\nThe way in which the conception of a single, or independent combat, is\nmore closely determined, the conditions to which this unit is attached,\nwe shall only be able to explain clearly when we consider the combat;\nwe must content ourselves for the present with saying that in relation\nto space, therefore in combats taking place at the same time, the unit\nreaches just as far as _personal command_ reaches; but in regard to\ntime, and therefore in relation to combats which follow each other in\nclose succession, it reaches to the moment when the crisis which takes\nplace in every combat is entirely passed.\n\nThat doubtful cases may occur, cases, for instance, in which several\ncombats may perhaps be regarded also as a single one, will not\noverthrow the ground of distinction we have adopted, for the same is\nthe case with all grounds of distinction of real things which are\ndifferentiated by a gradually diminishing scale. There may, therefore,\ncertainly be acts of activity in War which, without any alteration in\nthe point of view, may just as well be counted strategic as tactical;\nfor example, very extended positions resembling a chain of posts, the\npreparations for the passage of a river at several points, &c.\n\nOur classification reaches and covers only the _use of the military\nforce_. But now there are in War a number of activities which are\nsubservient to it, and still are quite different from it; sometimes\nclosely allied, sometimes less near in their affinity. All these\nactivities relate to the _maintenance of the military force_. In the\nsame way as its creation and training precede its use, so its\nmaintenance is always a necessary condition. But, strictly viewed, all\nactivities thus connected with it are always to be regarded only as\npreparations for fighting; they are certainly nothing more than\nactivities which are very close to the action, so that they run through\nthe hostile act alternate in importance with the use of the forces. We\nhave therefore a right to exclude them as well as the other preparatory\nactivities from the Art of War in its restricted sense, from the\nconduct of War properly so called; and we are obliged to do so if we\nwould comply with the first principle of all theory, the elimination of\nall heterogeneous elements. Who would include in the real \u201cconduct of\nWar\u201d the whole litany of subsistence and administration, because it is\nadmitted to stand in constant reciprocal action with the use of the\ntroops, but is something essentially different from it?\n\nWe have said, in the third chapter of our first book, that as the fight\nor combat is the only directly effective activity, therefore the\nthreads of all others, as they end in it, are included in it. By this\nwe meant to say that to all others an object was thereby appointed\nwhich, in accordance with the laws peculiar to themselves, they must\nseek to attain. Here we must go a little closer into this subject.\n\nThe subjects which constitute the activities outside of the combat are\nof various kinds.\n\nThe one part belongs, in one respect, to the combat itself, is\nidentical with it, whilst it serves in another respect for the\nmaintenance of the military force. The other part belongs purely to the\nsubsistence, and has only, in consequence of the reciprocal action, a\nlimited influence on the combats by its results. The subjects which in\none respect belong to the fighting itself are _marches, camps_, and\n_cantonments_, for they suppose so many different situations of troops,\nand where troops are supposed there the idea of the combat must always\nbe present.\n\nThe other subjects, which only belong to the maintenance, are\n_subsistence, care of the sick_, the _supply and repair of arms and\nequipment_.\n\nMarches are quite identical with the use of the troops. The act of\nmarching in the combat, generally called manoeuvring, certainly does\nnot necessarily include the use of weapons, but it is so completely and\nnecessarily combined with it that it forms an integral part of that\nwhich we call a combat. But the march outside the combat is nothing but\nthe execution of a strategic measure. By the strategic plan is settled\n_when, where, and with what forces_ a battle is to be delivered\u2014and to\ncarry that into execution the march is the only means.\n\nThe march outside of the combat is therefore an instrument of strategy,\nbut not on that account exclusively a subject of strategy, for as the\narmed force which executes it may be involved in a possible combat at\nany moment, therefore its execution stands also under tactical as well\nas strategic rules. If we prescribe to a column its route on a\nparticular side of a river or of a branch of a mountain, then that is a\nstrategic measure, for it contains the intention of fighting on that\nparticular side of the hill or river in preference to the other, in\ncase a combat should be necessary during the march.\n\nBut if a column, instead of following the road through a valley,\nmarches along the parallel ridge of heights, or for the convenience of\nmarching divides itself into several columns, then these are tactical\narrangements, for they relate to the manner in which we shall use the\ntroops in the anticipated combat.\n\nThe particular order of march is in constant relation with readiness\nfor combat, is therefore tactical in its nature, for it is nothing more\nthan the first or preliminary disposition for the battle which may\npossibly take place.\n\nAs the march is the instrument by which strategy apportions its active\nelements, the combats, but these last often only appear by their\nresults and not in the details of their real course, it could not fail\nto happen that in theory the instrument has often been substituted for\nthe efficient principle. Thus we hear of a decisive skilful march,\nallusion being thereby made to those combat-combinations to which these\nmarches led. This substitution of ideas is too natural and conciseness\nof expression too desirable to call for alteration, but still it is\nonly a condensed chain of ideas in regard to which we must never omit\nto bear in mind the full meaning, if we would avoid falling into error.\n\nWe fall into an error of this description if we attribute to\nstrategical combinations a power independent of tactical results. We\nread of marches and man\u0153uvres combined, the object attained, and at the\nsame time not a word about combat, from which the conclusion is drawn\nthat there are means in War of conquering an enemy without fighting.\nThe prolific nature of this error we cannot show until hereafter.\n\nBut although a march can be regarded absolutely as an integral part of\nthe combat, still there are in it certain relations which do not belong\nto the combat, and therefore are neither tactical nor strategic. To\nthese belong all arrangements which concern only the accommodation of\nthe troops, the construction of bridges, roads, &c. These are only\nconditions; under many circumstances they are in very close connection,\nand may almost identify themselves with the troops, as in building a\nbridge in presence of the enemy; but in themselves they are always\nactivities, the theory of which does not form part of the theory of the\nconduct of War.\n\nCamps, by which we mean every disposition of troops in concentrated,\ntherefore in battle order, in contradistinction to cantonments or\nquarters, are a state of rest, therefore of restoration; but they are\nat the same time also the strategic appointment of a battle on the\nspot, chosen; and by the manner in which they are taken up they contain\nthe fundamental lines of the battle, a condition from which every\ndefensive battle starts; they are therefore essential parts of both\nstrategy and tactics.\n\nCantonments take the place of camps for the better refreshment of the\ntroops. They are therefore, like camps, strategic subjects as regards\nposition and extent; tactical subjects as regards internal\norganisation, with a view to readiness to fight.\n\nThe occupation of camps and cantonments no doubt usually combines with\nthe recuperation of the troops another object also, for example, the\ncovering a district of country, the holding a position; but it can very\nwell be only the first. We remind our readers that strategy may follow\na great diversity of objects, for everything which appears an advantage\nmay be the object of a combat, and the preservation of the instrument\nwith which War is made must necessarily very often become the object of\nits partial combinations.\n\nIf, therefore, in such a case strategy ministers only to the\nmaintenance of the troops, we are not on that account out of the field\nof strategy, for we are still engaged with the use of the military\nforce, because every disposition of that force upon any point Whatever\nof the theatre of War is such a use.\n\nBut if the maintenance of the troops in camp or quarters calls forth\nactivities which are no employment of the armed force, such as the\nconstruction of huts, pitching of tents, subsistence and sanitary\nservices in camps or quarters, then such belong neither to strategy nor\ntactics.\n\nEven entrenchments, the site and preparation of which are plainly part\nof the order of battle, therefore tactical subjects, do not belong to\nthe theory of the conduct of War so far as respects the _execution of\ntheir construction_ the knowledge and skill required for such work\nbeing, in point of fact, qualities inherent in the nature of an\norganised Army; the theory of the combat takes them for granted.\n\nAmongst the subjects which belong to the mere keeping up of an armed\nforce, because none of the parts are identified with the combat, the\nvictualling of the troops themselves comes first, as it must be done\nalmost daily and for each individual. Thus it is that it completely\npermeates military action in the parts constituting strategy\u2014we say\nparts constituting strategy, because during a battle the subsistence of\ntroops will rarely have any influence in modifying the plan, although\nthe thing is conceivable enough. The care for the subsistence of the\ntroops comes therefore into reciprocal action chiefly with strategy,\nand there is nothing more common than for the leading strategic\nfeatures of a campaign and War to be traced out in connection with a\nview to this supply. But however frequent and however important these\nviews of supply may be, the subsistence of the troops always remains a\ncompletely different activity from the use of the troops, and the\nformer has only an influence on the latter by its results.\n\nThe other branches of administrative activity which we have mentioned\nstand much farther apart from the use of the troops. The care of sick\nand wounded, highly important as it is for the good of an Army,\ndirectly affects it only in a small portion of the individuals\ncomposing it, and therefore has only a weak and indirect influence upon\nthe use of the rest. The completing and replacing articles of arms and\nequipment, except so far as by the organism of the forces it\nconstitutes a continuous activity inherent in them\u2014takes place only\nperiodically, and therefore seldom affects strategic plans.\n\nWe must, however, here guard ourselves against a mistake. In certain\ncases these subjects may be really of decisive importance. The distance\nof hospitals and dep\u00f4ts of munitions may very easily be imagined as the\nsole cause of very important strategic decisions. We do not wish either\nto contest that point or to throw it into the shade. But we are at\npresent occupied not with the particular facts of a concrete case, but\nwith abstract theory; and our assertion therefore is that such an\ninfluence is too rare to give the theory of sanitary measures and the\nsupply of munitions and arms an importance in theory of the conduct of\nWar such as to make it worth while to include in the theory of the\nconduct of War the consideration of the different ways and systems\nwhich the above theories may furnish, in the same way as is certainly\nnecessary in regard to victualling troops.\n\nIf we have clearly understood the results of our reflections, then the\nactivities belonging to War divide themselves into two principal\nclasses, into such as are only \u201c_preparations for War_\u201d and into the\n\u201c_War itself._\u201d This division must therefore also be made in theory.\n\nThe knowledge and applications of skill in the preparations for War are\nengaged in the creation, discipline, and maintenance of all the\nmilitary forces; what general names should be given to them we do not\nenter into, but we see that artillery, fortification, elementary\ntactics, as they are called, the whole organisation and administration\nof the various armed forces, and all such things are included. But the\ntheory of War itself occupies itself with the use of these prepared\nmeans for the object of the war. It needs of the first only the\nresults, that is, the knowledge of the principal properties of the\nmeans taken in hand for use. This we call \u201cThe Art of War\u201d in a limited\nsense, or \u201cTheory of the Conduct of War,\u201d or \u201cTheory of the Employment\nof Armed Forces,\u201d all of them denoting for us the same thing.\n\nThe present theory will therefore treat the combat as the real contest,\nmarches, camps, and cantonments as circumstances which are more or less\nidentical with it. The subsistence of the troops will only come into\nconsideration like _other given circumstances_ in respect of its\nresults, not as an activity belonging to the combat.\n\nThe Art of War thus viewed in its limited sense divides itself again\ninto tactics and strategy. The former occupies itself with the form of\nthe separate combat, the latter with its use. Both connect themselves\nwith the circumstances of marches, camps, cantonments only through the\ncombat, and these circumstances are tactical or strategic according as\nthey relate to the form or to the signification of the battle.\n\nNo doubt there will be many readers who will consider superfluous this\ncareful separation of two things lying so close together as tactics and\nstrategy, because it has no direct effect on the conduct itself of War.\nWe admit, certainly that it would be pedantry to look for direct\neffects on the field of battle from a theoretical distinction.\n\nBut the first business of every theory is to clear up conceptions and\nideas which have been jumbled together, and, we may say, entangled and\nconfused; and only when a right understanding is established, as to\nnames and conceptions, can we hope to progress with clearness and\nfacility, and be certain that author and reader will always see things\nfrom the same point of view. Tactics and strategy are two activities\nmutually permeating each other in time and space, at the same time\nessentially different activities, the inner laws and mutual relations\nof which cannot be intelligible at all to the mind until a clear\nconception of the nature of each activity is established.\n\nHe to whom all this is nothing, must either repudiate all theoretical\nconsideration, _or his understanding has not as yet been pained_ by the\nconfused and perplexing ideas resting on no fixed point of view,\nleading to no satisfactory result, sometimes dull, sometimes fantastic,\nsometimes floating in vague generalities, which we are often obliged to\nhear and read on the conduct of War, owing to the spirit of scientific\ninvestigation having hitherto been little directed to these subjects.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. On the Theory of War\n\n1. THE FIRST CONCEPTION OF THE \u201cART OF WAR\u201d WAS MERELY THE PREPARATION\nOF THE ARMED FORCES.\n\n\nFormerly by the term \u201cArt of War,\u201d or \u201cScience of War,\u201d nothing was\nunderstood but the totality of those branches of knowledge and those\nappliances of skill occupied with material things. The pattern and\npreparation and the mode of using arms, the construction of\nfortifications and entrenchments, the organism of an army and the\nmechanism of its movements, were the subject; these branches of\nknowledge and skill above referred to, and the end and aim of them all\nwas the establishment of an armed force fit for use in War. All this\nconcerned merely things belonging to the material world and a one-sided\nactivity only, and it was in fact nothing but an activity advancing by\ngradations from the lower occupations to a finer kind of mechanical\nart. The relation of all this to War itself was very much the same as\nthe relation of the art of the sword cutler to the art of using the\nsword. The employment in the moment of danger and in a state of\nconstant reciprocal action of the particular energies of mind and\nspirit in the direction proposed to them was not yet even mooted.\n\n2. TRUE WAR FIRST APPEARS IN THE ART OF SIEGES.\n\n\nIn the art of sieges we first perceive a certain degree of guidance of\nthe combat, something of the action of the intellectual faculties upon\nthe material forces placed under their control, but generally only so\nfar that it very soon embodied itself again in new material forms, such\nas approaches, trenches, counter-approaches, batteries, &c., and every\nstep which this action of the higher faculties took was marked by some\nsuch result; it was only the thread that was required on which to\nstring these material inventions in order. As the intellect can hardly\nmanifest itself in this kind of War, except in such things, so\ntherefore nearly all that was necessary was done in that way.\n\n3. THEN TACTICS TRIED TO FIND ITS WAY IN THE SAME DIRECTION.\n\n\nAfterwards tactics attempted to give to the mechanism of its joints the\ncharacter of a general disposition, built upon the peculiar properties\nof the instrument, which character leads indeed to the battle-field,\nbut instead of leading to the free activity of mind, leads to an Army\nmade like an automaton by its rigid formations and orders of battle,\nwhich, movable only by the word of command, is intended to unwind its\nactivities like a piece of clockwork.\n\n4. THE REAL CONDUCT OF WAR ONLY MADE ITS APPEARANCE INCIDENTALLY AND\nINCOGNITO.\n\n\nThe conduct of War properly so called, that is, a use of the prepared\nmeans adapted to the most special requirements, was not considered as\nany suitable subject for theory, but one which should be left to\nnatural talents alone. By degrees, as War passed from the hand-to-hand\nencounters of the middle ages into a more regular and systematic form,\nstray reflections on this point also forced themselves into men\u2019s\nminds, but they mostly appeared only incidentally in memoirs and\nnarratives, and in a certain measure incognito.\n\n5. REFLECTIONS ON MILITARY EVENTS BROUGHT ABOUT THE WANT OF A THEORY.\n\n\nAs contemplation on War continually increased, and its history every\nday assumed more of a critical character, the urgent want appeared of\nthe support of fixed maxims and rules, in order that in the\ncontroversies naturally arising about military events the war of\nopinions might be brought to some one point. This whirl of opinions,\nwhich neither revolved on any central pivot nor according to any\nappreciable laws, could not but be very distasteful to people\u2019s minds.\n\n6. ENDEAVOURS TO ESTABLISH A POSITIVE THEORY.\n\n\nThere arose, therefore, an endeavour to establish maxims, rules, and\neven systems for the conduct of War. By this the attainment of a\npositive object was proposed, without taking into view the endless\ndifficulties which the conduct of War presents in that respect. The\nconduct of War, as we have shown, has no definite limits in any\ndirection, while every system has the circumscribing nature of a\nsynthesis, from which results an irreconcileable opposition between\nsuch a theory and practice.\n\n7. LIMITATION TO MATERIAL OBJECTS.\n\n\nWriters on theory felt the difficulty of the subject soon enough, and\nthought themselves entitled to get rid of it by directing their maxims\nand systems only upon material things and a one-sided activity. Their\naim was to reach results, as in the science for the preparation for\nWar, entirely certain and positive, and therefore only to take into\nconsideration that which could be made matter of calculation.\n\n8. SUPERIORITY OF NUMBERS.\n\n\nThe superiority in numbers being a material condition, it was chosen\nfrom amongst all the factors required to produce victory, because it\ncould be brought under mathematical laws through combinations of time\nand space. It was thought possible to leave out of sight all other\ncircumstances, by supposing them to be equal on each side, and\ntherefore to neutralise one another. This would have been very well if\nit had been done to gain a preliminary knowledge of this one factor,\naccording to its relations, but to make it a rule for ever to consider\nsuperiority of numbers as the sole law; to see the whole secret of the\nArt of War in the formula, _in a certain time, at a certain point, to\nbring up superior masses_\u2014was a restriction overruled by the force of\nrealities.\n\n9. VICTUALLING OF TROOPS.\n\n\nBy one theoretical school an attempt was made to systematise another\nmaterial element also, by making the subsistence of troops, according\nto a previously established organism of the Army, the supreme\nlegislator in the higher conduct of War. In this way certainly they\narrived at definite figures, but at figures which rested on a number of\narbitrary calculations, and which therefore could not stand the test of\npractical application.\n\n10. BASE.\n\n\nAn ingenious author tried to concentrate in a single conception, that\nof a BASE, a whole host of objects amongst which sundry relations even\nwith immaterial forces found their way in as well. The list comprised\nthe subsistence of the troops, the keeping them complete in numbers and\nequipment, the security of communications with the home country,\nlastly, the security of retreat in case it became necessary; and, first\nof all, he proposed to substitute this conception of a base for all\nthese things; then for the base itself to substitute its own length\n(extent); and, last of all, to substitute the angle formed by the army\nwith this base: all this was done to obtain a pure geometrical result\nutterly useless. This last is, in fact, unavoidable, if we reflect that\nnone of these substitutions could be made without violating truth and\nleaving out some of the things contained in the original conception.\nThe idea of a base is a real necessity for strategy, and to have\nconceived it is meritorious; but to make such a use of it as we have\ndepicted is completely inadmissible, and could not but lead to partial\nconclusions which have forced these theorists into a direction opposed\nto common sense, namely, to a belief in the decisive effect of the\nenveloping form of attack.\n\n11. INTERIOR LINES.\n\n\nAs a reaction against this false direction, another geometrical\nprinciple, that of the so-called interior lines, was then elevated to\nthe throne. Although this principle rests on a sound foundation, on the\ntruth that the combat is the only effectual means in War, still it is,\njust on account of its purely geometrical nature, nothing but another\ncase of one-sided theory which can never gain ascendency in the real\nworld.\n\n12. ALL THESE ATTEMPTS ARE OPEN TO OBJECTION.\n\n\nAll these attempts at theory are only to be considered in their\nanalytical part as progress in the province of truth, but in their\nsynthetical part, in their precepts and rules, they are quite\nunserviceable.\n\nThey strive after determinate quantities, whilst in War all is\nundetermined, and the calculation has always to be made with varying\nquantities.\n\nThey direct the attention only upon material forces, while the whole\nmilitary action is penetrated throughout by intelligent forces and\ntheir effects.\n\nThey only pay regard to activity on one side, whilst War is a constant\nstate of reciprocal action, the effects of which are mutual.\n\n13. AS A RULE THEY EXCLUDE GENIUS.\n\n\nAll that was not attainable by such miserable philosophy, the offspring\nof partial views, lay outside the precincts of science\u2014and was the\nfield of genius, which RAISES ITSELF ABOVE RULES.\n\nPity the warrior who is contented to crawl about in this beggardom of\nrules, which are too bad for genius, over which it can set itself\nsuperior, over which it can perchance make merry! What genius does must\nbe the best of all rules, and theory cannot do better than to show how\nand why it is so.\n\nPity the theory which sets itself in opposition to the mind! It cannot\nrepair this contradiction by any humility, and the humbler it is so\nmuch the sooner will ridicule and contempt drive it out of real life.\n\n14. THE DIFFICULTY OF THEORY AS SOON AS MORAL QUANTITIES COME INTO\nCONSIDERATION.\n\n\nEvery theory becomes infinitely more difficult from the moment that it\ntouches on the province of moral quantities. Architecture and painting\nknow quite well what they are about as long as they have only to do\nwith matter; there is no dispute about mechanical or optical\nconstruction. But as soon as the moral activities begin their work, as\nsoon as moral impressions and feelings are produced, the whole set of\nrules dissolves into vague ideas.\n\nThe science of medicine is chiefly engaged with bodily phenomena only;\nits business is with the animal organism, which, liable to perpetual\nchange, is never exactly the same for two moments. This makes its\npractice very difficult, and places the judgment of the physician above\nhis science; but how much more difficult is the case if a moral effect\nis added, and how much higher must we place the physician of the mind?\n\n15. THE MORAL QUANTITIES MUST NOT BE EXCLUDED IN WAR.\n\n\nBut now the activity in War is never directed solely against matter; it\nis always at the same time directed against the intelligent force which\ngives life to this matter, and to separate the two from each other is\nimpossible.\n\nBut the intelligent forces are only visible to the inner eye, and this\nis different in each person, and often different in the same person at\ndifferent times.\n\nAs danger is the general element in which everything moves in War, it\nis also chiefly by courage, the feeling of one\u2019s own power, that the\njudgment is differently influenced. It is to a certain extent the\ncrystalline lens through which all appearances pass before reaching the\nunderstanding.\n\nAnd yet we cannot doubt that these things acquire a certain objective\nvalue simply through experience.\n\nEvery one knows the moral effect of a surprise, of an attack in flank\nor rear. Every one thinks less of the enemy\u2019s courage as soon as he\nturns his back, and ventures much more in pursuit than when pursued.\nEvery one judges of the enemy\u2019s General by his reputed talents, by his\nage and experience, and shapes his course accordingly. Every one casts\na scrutinising glance at the spirit and feeling of his own and the\nenemy\u2019s troops. All these and similar effects in the province of the\nmoral nature of man have established themselves by experience, are\nperpetually recurring, and therefore warrant our reckoning them as real\nquantities of their kind. What could we do with any theory which should\nleave them out of consideration?\n\nCertainly experience is an indispensable title for these truths. With\npsychological and philosophical sophistries no theory, no General,\nshould meddle.\n\n16. PRINCIPAL DIFFICULTY OF A THEORY FOR THE CONDUCT OF WAR.\n\n\nIn order to comprehend clearly the difficulty of the proposition which\nis contained in a theory for the conduct of War, and thence to deduce\nthe necessary characteristics of such a theory, we must take a closer\nview of the chief particulars which make up the nature of activity in\nWar.\n\n17. FIRST SPECIALITY.\u2014MORAL FORCES AND THEIR EFFECTS. (HOSTILE\nFEELING.)\n\n\nThe first of these specialities consists in the moral forces and\neffects.\n\nThe combat is, in its origin, the expression of _hostile feeling_, but\nin our great combats, which we call Wars, the hostile feeling\nfrequently resolves itself into merely a hostile _view_, and there is\nusually no innate hostile feeling residing in individual against\nindividual. Nevertheless, the combat never passes off without such\nfeelings being brought into activity. National hatred, which is seldom\nwanting in our Wars, is a substitute for personal hostility in the\nbreast of individual opposed to individual. But where this also is\nwanting, and at first no animosity of feeling subsists, a hostile\nfeeling is kindled by the combat itself; for an act of violence which\nany one commits upon us by order of his superior, will excite in us a\ndesire to retaliate and be revenged on him, sooner than on the superior\npower at whose command the act was done. This is human, or animal if we\nwill; still it is so. We are very apt to regard the combat in theory as\nan abstract trial of strength, without any participation on the part of\nthe feelings, and that is one of the thousand errors which theorists\ndeliberately commit, because they do not see its consequences.\n\nBesides that excitation of feelings naturally arising from the combat\nitself, there are others also which do not essentially belong to it,\nbut which, on account of their relationship, easily unite with\nit\u2014ambition, love of power, enthusiasm of every kind, &c. &c.\n\n18. THE IMPRESSIONS OF DANGER. (COURAGE.)\n\n\nFinally, the combat begets the element of danger, in which all the\nactivities of War must live and move, like the bird in the air or the\nfish in the water. But the influences of danger all pass into the\nfeelings, either directly\u2014that is, instinctively\u2014or through the medium\nof the understanding. The effect in the first case would be a desire to\nescape from the danger, and, if that cannot be done, fright and\nanxiety. If this effect does not take place, then it is _courage_,\nwhich is a counterpoise to that instinct. Courage is, however, by no\nmeans an act of the understanding, but likewise a feeling, like fear;\nthe latter looks to the physical preservation, courage to the moral\npreservation. Courage, then, is a nobler instinct. But because it is\nso, it will not allow itself to be used as a lifeless instrument, which\nproduces its effects exactly according to prescribed measure. Courage\nis therefore no mere counterpoise to danger in order to neutralise the\nlatter in its effects, but a peculiar power in itself.\n\n19. EXTENT OF THE INFLUENCE OF DANGER.\n\n\nBut to estimate exactly the influence of danger upon the principal\nactors in War, we must not limit its sphere to the physical danger of\nthe moment. It dominates over the actor, not only by threatening him,\nbut also by threatening all entrusted to him, not only at the moment in\nwhich it is actually present, but also through the imagination at all\nother moments, which have a connection with the present; lastly, not\nonly directly by itself, but also indirectly by the responsibility\nwhich makes it bear with tenfold weight on the mind of the chief actor.\nWho could advise, or resolve upon a great battle, without feeling his\nmind more or less wrought up, or perplexed by, the danger and\nresponsibility which such a great act of decision carries in itself? We\nmay say that action in War, in so far as it is real action, not a mere\ncondition, is never out of the sphere of danger.\n\n20. OTHER POWERS OF FEELING.\n\n\nIf we look upon these affections which are excited by hostility and\ndanger as peculiarly belonging to War, we do not, therefore, exclude\nfrom it all others accompanying man in his life\u2019s journey. They will\nalso find room here frequently enough. Certainly we may say that many a\npetty action of the passions is silenced in this serious business of\nlife; but that holds good only in respect to those acting in a lower\nsphere, who, hurried on from one state of danger and exertion to\nanother, lose sight of the rest of the things of life, _become unused\nto deceit_, because it is of no avail with death, and so attain to that\nsoldierly simplicity of character which has always been the best\nrepresentative of the military profession. In higher regions it is\notherwise, for the higher a man\u2019s rank, the more he must look around\nhim; then arise interests on every side, and a manifold activity of the\npassions of good and bad. Envy and generosity, pride and humility,\nfierceness and tenderness, all may appear as active powers in this\ngreat drama.\n\n21. PECULIARITY OF MIND.\n\n\nThe peculiar characteristics of mind in the chief actor have, as well\nas those of the feelings, a high importance. From an imaginative,\nflighty, inexperienced head, and from a calm, sagacious understanding,\ndifferent things are to be expected.\n\n22. FROM THE DIVERSITY IN MENTAL INDIVIDUALITIES ARISES THE DIVERSITY\nOF WAYS LEADING TO THE END.\n\n\nIt is this great diversity in mental individuality, the influence of\nwhich is to be supposed as chiefly felt in the higher ranks, because it\nincreases as we progress upwards, which chiefly produces the diversity\nof ways leading to the end noticed by us in the first book, and which\ngives, to the play of probabilities and chance, such an unequal share\nin determining the course of events.\n\n23. SECOND PECULIARITY.\u2014LIVING REACTION.\n\n\nThe second peculiarity in War is the living reaction, and the\nreciprocal action resulting therefrom. We do not here speak of the\ndifficulty of estimating that reaction, for that is included in the\ndifficulty before mentioned, of treating the moral powers as\nquantities; but of this, that reciprocal action, by its nature, opposes\nanything like a regular plan. The effect which any measure produces\nupon the enemy is the most distinct of all the data which action\naffords; but every theory must keep to classes (or groups) of\nphenomena, and can never take up the really individual case in itself:\nthat must everywhere be left to judgment and talent. It is therefore\nnatural that in a business such as War, which in its plan\u2014built upon\ngeneral circumstances\u2014is so often thwarted by unexpected and singular\naccidents, more must generally be left to talent; and less use can be\nmade of a _theoretical guide_ than in any other.\n\n24. THIRD PECULIARITY.\u2014UNCERTAINTY OF ALL DATA.\n\n\nLastly, the great uncertainty of all data in War is a peculiar\ndifficulty, because all action must, to a certain extent, be planned in\na mere twilight, which in addition not unfrequently\u2014like the effect of\na fog or moonshine\u2014gives to things exaggerated dimensions and an\nunnatural appearance.\n\nWhat this feeble light leaves indistinct to the sight talent must\ndiscover, or must be left to chance. It is therefore again talent, or\nthe favour of fortune, on which reliance must be placed, for want of\nobjective knowledge.\n\n25. POSITIVE THEORY IS IMPOSSIBLE.\n\n\nWith materials of this kind we can only say to ourselves that it is a\nsheer impossibility to construct for the Art of War a theory which,\nlike a scaffolding, shall ensure to the chief actor an external support\non all sides. In all those cases in which he is thrown upon his talent\nhe would find himself away from this scaffolding of theory and in\nopposition to it, and, however many-sided it might be framed, the same\nresult would ensue of which we spoke when we said that talent and\ngenius act beyond the law, and theory is in opposition to reality.\n\n26. MEANS LEFT BY WHICH A THEORY IS POSSIBLE (THE DIFFICULTIES ARE NOT\nEVERYWHERE EQUALLY GREAT).\n\n\nTwo means present themselves of getting out of this difficulty. In the\nfirst place, what we have said of the nature of military action in\ngeneral does not apply in the same manner to the action of every one,\nwhatever may be his standing. In the lower ranks the spirit of\nself-sacrifice is called more into request, but the difficulties which\nthe understanding and judgment meet with are infinitely less. The field\nof occurrences is more confined. Ends and means are fewer in number.\nData more distinct; mostly also contained in the actually visible. But\nthe higher we ascend the more the difficulties increase, until in the\nCommander-in-Chief they reach their climax, so that with him almost\neverything must be left to genius.\n\nFurther, according to a division of the subject in _agreement with its\nnature_, the difficulties are not everywhere the same, but diminish the\nmore results manifest themselves in the material world, and increase\nthe more they pass into the moral, and become motives which influence\nthe will. Therefore it is easier to determine, by theoretical rules,\nthe order and conduct of a battle, than the use to be made of the\nbattle itself. Yonder physical weapons clash with each other, and\nalthough mind is not wanting therein, matter must have its rights. But\nin the effects to be produced by battles when the material results\nbecome motives, we have only to do with the moral nature. In a word, it\nis easier to make a theory for _tactics_ than for _strategy_.\n\n27. THEORY MUST BE OF THE NATURE OF OBSERVATIONS NOT OF DOCTRINE.\n\n\nThe second opening for the possibility of a theory lies in the point of\nview that it does not necessarily require to be a _direction_ for\naction. As a general rule, whenever an _activity_ is for the most part\noccupied with the same objects over and over again, with the same ends\nand means, although there may be trifling alterations and a\ncorresponding number of varieties of combination, such things are\ncapable of becoming a subject of study for the reasoning faculties. But\nsuch study is just the most essential part of every _theory_, and has a\npeculiar title to that name. It is an analytical investigation of the\nsubject that leads to an exact knowledge; and if brought to bear on the\nresults of experience, which in our case would be military history, to\na thorough familiarity with it. The nearer theory attains the latter\nobject, so much the more it passes over from the objective form of\nknowledge into the subjective one of skill in action; and so much the\nmore, therefore, it will prove itself effective when circumstances\nallow of no other decision but that of personal talents; it will show\nits effects in that talent itself. If theory investigates the subjects\nwhich constitute War; if it separates more distinctly that which at\nfirst sight seems amalgamated; if it explains fully the properties of\nthe means; if it shows their probable effects; if it makes evident the\nnature of objects; if it brings to bear all over the field of War the\nlight of essentially critical investigation\u2014then it has fulfilled the\nchief duties of its province. It becomes then a guide to him who wishes\nto make himself acquainted with War from books; it lights up the whole\nroad for him, facilitates his progress, educates his judgment, and\nshields him from error.\n\nIf a man of expertness spends half his life in the endeavour to clear\nup an obscure subject thoroughly, he will probably know more about it\nthan a person who seeks to master it in a short time. Theory is\ninstituted that each person in succession may not have to go through\nthe same labour of clearing the ground and toiling through his subject,\nbut may find the thing in order, and light admitted on it. It should\neducate the mind of the future leader in War, or rather guide him in\nhis self-instruction, but not accompany him to the field of battle;\njust as a sensible tutor forms and enlightens the opening mind of a\nyouth without, therefore, keeping him in leading strings all through\nhis life.\n\nIf maxims and rules result of themselves from the considerations which\ntheory institutes, if the truth accretes itself into that form of\ncrystal, then theory will not oppose this natural law of the mind; it\nwill rather, if the arch ends in such a keystone, bring it prominently\nout; but so does this, only in order to satisfy the philosophical law\nof reason, in order to show distinctly the point to which the lines all\nconverge, not in order to form out of it an algebraical formula for use\nupon the battle-field; for even these maxims and rules serve more to\ndetermine in the reflecting mind the leading outline of its habitual\nmovements than as landmarks indicating to it the way in the act of\nexecution.\n\n28. BY THIS POINT OF VIEW THEORY BECOMES POSSIBLE, AND CEASES TO BE IN\nCONTRADICTION TO PRACTICE.\n\n\nTaking this point of view, there is a possibility afforded of a\nsatisfactory, that is, of a useful, theory of the conduct of War, never\ncoming into opposition with the reality, and it will only depend on\nrational treatment to bring it so far into harmony with action that\nbetween theory and practice there shall no longer be that absurd\ndifference which an unreasonable theory, in defiance of common sense,\nhas often produced, but which, just as often, narrow-mindedness and\nignorance have used as a pretext for giving way to their natural\nincapacity.\n\n29. THEORY THEREFORE CONSIDERS THE NATURE OF ENDS AND MEANS\u2014ENDS AND\nMEANS IN TACTICS.\n\n\nTheory has therefore to consider the nature of the means and ends.\n\nIn tactics the means are the disciplined armed forces which are to\ncarry on the contest. The object is victory. The precise definition of\nthis conception can be better explained hereafter in the consideration\nof the combat. Here we content ourselves by denoting the retirement of\nthe enemy from the field of battle as the sign of victory. By means of\nthis victory strategy gains the object for which it appointed the\ncombat, and which constitutes its special signification. This\nsignification has certainly some influence on the nature of the\nvictory. A victory which is intended to weaken the enemy\u2019s armed forces\nis a different thing from one which is designed only to put us in\npossession of a position. The signification of a combat may therefore\nhave a sensible influence on the preparation and conduct of it,\nconsequently will be also a subject of consideration in tactics.\n\n30. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ALWAYS ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS.\n\n\nAs there are certain circumstances which attend the combat throughout,\nand have more or less influence upon its result, therefore these must\nbe taken into consideration in the application of the armed forces.\n\nThese circumstances are the locality of the combat (ground), the time\nof day, and the weather.\n\n31. LOCALITY.\n\n\nThe locality, which we prefer leaving for solution, under the head of\n\u201cCountry and Ground,\u201d might, strictly speaking, be without any\ninfluence at all if the combat took place on a completely level and\nuncultivated plain.\n\nIn a country of steppes such a case may occur, but in the cultivated\ncountries of Europe it is almost an imaginary idea. Therefore a combat\nbetween civilised nations, in which country and ground have no\ninfluence, is hardly conceivable.\n\n32. TIME OF DAY.\n\n\nThe time of day influences the combat by the difference between day and\nnight; but the influence naturally extends further than merely to the\nlimits of these divisions, as every combat has a certain duration, and\ngreat battles last for several hours. In the preparations for a great\nbattle, it makes an essential difference whether it begins in the\nmorning or the evening. At the same time, certainly many battles may be\nfought in which the question of the time of day is quite immaterial,\nand in the generality of cases its influence is only trifling.\n\n33. WEATHER.\n\n\nStill more rarely has the weather any decisive influence, and it is\nmostly only by fogs that it plays a part.\n\n34. END AND MEANS IN STRATEGY.\n\n\nStrategy has in the first instance only the victory, that is, the\ntactical result, as a means to its object, and ultimately those things\nwhich lead directly to peace. The application of its means to this\nobject is at the same time attended by circumstances which have an\ninfluence thereon more or less.\n\n35. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS OF\nSTRATEGY.\n\n\nThese circumstances are country and ground, the former including the\nterritory and inhabitants of the whole theatre of war; next the time of\nthe day, and the time of the year as well; lastly, the weather,\nparticularly any unusual state of the same, severe frost, &c.\n\n36. THESE FORM NEW MEANS.\n\n\nBy bringing these things into combination with the results of a combat,\nstrategy gives this result\u2014and therefore the combat\u2014a special\nsignification, places before it a particular object. But when this\nobject is not that which leads directly to peace, therefore a\nsubordinate one, it is only to be looked upon as a means; and therefore\nin strategy we may look upon the results of combats or victories, in\nall their different significations, as means. The conquest of a\nposition is such a result of a combat applied to ground. But not only\nare the different combats with special objects to be considered as\nmeans, but also every higher aim which we may have in view in the\ncombination of battles directed on a common object is to be regarded as\na means. A winter campaign is a combination of this kind applied to the\nseason.\n\nThere remain, therefore, as objects, only those things which may be\nsupposed as leading _directly_ to peace, Theory investigates all these\nends and means according to the nature of their effects and their\nmutual relations.\n\n37. STRATEGY DEDUCES ONLY FROM EXPERIENCE THE ENDS AND MEANS TO BE\nEXAMINED.\n\n\nThe first question is, How does strategy arrive at a complete list of\nthese things? If there is to be a philosophical inquiry leading to an\nabsolute result, it would become entangled in all those difficulties\nwhich the logical necessity of the conduct of War and its theory\nexclude. It therefore turns to experience, and directs its attention on\nthose combinations which military history can furnish. In this manner,\nno doubt, nothing more than a limited theory can be obtained, which\nonly suits circumstances such as are presented in history. But this\nincompleteness is unavoidable, because in any case theory must either\nhave deduced from, or have compared with, history what it advances with\nrespect to things. Besides, this incompleteness in every case is more\ntheoretical than real.\n\nOne great advantage of this method is that theory cannot lose itself in\nabstruse disquisitions, subtleties, and chimeras, but must always\nremain practical.\n\n38. HOW FAR THE ANALYSIS OF THE MEANS SHOULD BE CARRIED.\n\n\nAnother question is, How far should theory go in its analysis of the\nmeans? Evidently only so far as the elements in a separate form present\nthemselves for consideration in practice. The range and effect of\ndifferent weapons is very important to tactics; their construction,\nalthough these effects result from it, is a matter of indifference; for\nthe conduct of War is not making powder and cannon out of a given\nquantity of charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre, of copper and tin: the\ngiven quantities for the conduct of War are arms in a finished state\nand their effects. Strategy makes use of maps without troubling itself\nabout triangulations; it does not inquire how the country is subdivided\ninto departments and provinces, and how the people are educated and\ngoverned, in order to attain the best military results; but it takes\nthings as it finds them in the community of European States, and\nobserves where very different conditions have a notable influence on\nWar.\n\n39. GREAT SIMPLIFICATION OF THE KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED.\n\n\nThat in this manner the number of subjects for theory is much\nsimplified, and the knowledge requisite for the conduct of War much\nreduced, is easy to perceive. The very great mass of knowledge and\nappliances of skill which minister to the action of War in general, and\nwhich are necessary before an army fully equipped can take the field,\nunite in a few great results before they are able to reach, in actual\nWar, the final goal of their activity; just as the streams of a country\nunite themselves in rivers before they fall into the sea. Only those\nactivities emptying themselves directly into the sea of War have to be\nstudied by him who is to conduct its operations.\n\n40. THIS EXPLAINS THE RAPID GROWTH OF GREAT GENERALS, AND WHY A GENERAL\nIS NOT A MAN OF LEARNING.\n\n\nThis result of our considerations is in fact so necessary, any other\nwould have made us distrustful of their accuracy. Only thus is\nexplained how so often men have made their appearance with great\nsuccess in War, and indeed in the higher ranks even in supreme Command,\nwhose pursuits had been previously of a totally different nature;\nindeed how, as a rule, the most distinguished Generals have never risen\nfrom the very learned or really erudite class of officers, but have\nbeen mostly men who, from the circumstances of their position, could\nnot have attained to any great amount of knowledge. On that account\nthose who have considered it necessary or even beneficial to commence\nthe education of a future General by instruction in all details have\nalways been ridiculed as absurd pedants. It would be easy to show the\ninjurious tendency of such a course, because the human mind is trained\nby the knowledge imparted to it and the direction given to its ideas.\nOnly what is great can make it great; the little can only make it\nlittle, if the mind itself does not reject it as something repugnant.\n\n41. FORMER CONTRADICTIONS.\n\n\nBecause this simplicity of knowledge requisite in War was not attended\nto, but that knowledge was always jumbled up with the whole impedimenta\nof subordinate sciences and arts, therefore the palpable opposition to\nthe events of real life which resulted could not be solved otherwise\nthan by ascribing it all to genius, which requires no theory and for\nwhich no theory could be prescribed.\n\n42. ON THIS ACCOUNT ALL USE OF KNOWLEDGE WAS DENIED, AND EVERYTHING\nASCRIBED TO NATURAL TALENTS.\n\n\nPeople with whom common sense had the upper hand felt sensible of the\nimmense distance remaining to be filled up between a genius of the\nhighest order and a learned pedant; and they became in a manner\nfree-thinkers, rejected all belief in theory, and affirmed the conduct\nof War to be a natural function of man, which he performs more or less\nwell according as he has brought with him into the world more or less\ntalent in that direction. It cannot be denied that these were nearer to\nthe truth than those who placed a value on false knowledge: at the same\ntime it may easily be seen that such a view is itself but an\nexaggeration. No activity of the human understanding is possible\nwithout a certain stock of ideas; but these are, for the greater part\nat least, not innate but acquired, and constitute his knowledge. The\nonly question therefore is, of what kind should these ideas be; and we\nthink we have answered it if we say that they should be directed on\nthose things which man has directly to deal with in War.\n\n43. THE KNOWLEDGE MUST BE MADE SUITABLE TO THE POSITION.\n\n\nInside this field itself of military activity, the knowledge required\nmust be different according to the station of the Commander. It will be\ndirected on smaller and more circumscribed objects if he holds an\ninferior, upon greater and more comprehensive ones if he holds a higher\nsituation. There are Field Marshals who would not have shone at the\nhead of a cavalry regiment, and _vice versa_.\n\n44. THE KNOWLEDGE IN WAR IS VERY SIMPLE, BUT NOT, AT THE SAME TIME,\nVERY EASY.\n\n\nBut although the knowledge in War is simple, that is to say directed to\nso few subjects, and taking up those only in their final results, the\nart of execution is not, on that account, easy. Of the difficulties to\nwhich activity in War is subject generally, we have already spoken in\nthe first book; we here omit those things which can only be overcome by\ncourage, and maintain also that the activity of mind, is only simple,\nand easy in inferior stations, but increases in difficulty with\nincrease of rank, and in the highest position, in that of\nCommander-in-Chief, is to be reckoned among the most difficult which\nthere is for the human mind.\n\n45. OF THE NATURE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE.\n\n\nThe Commander of an Army neither requires to be a learned explorer of\nhistory nor a publicist, but he must be well versed in the higher\naffairs of State; he must know, and be able to judge correctly of\ntraditional tendencies, interests at stake, the immediate questions at\nissue, and the characters of leading persons; he need not be a close\nobserver of men, a sharp dissector of human character, but he must know\nthe character, the feelings, the habits, the peculiar faults and\ninclinations of those whom he is to command. He need not understand\nanything about the make of a carriage, or the harness of a battery\nhorse, but he must know how to calculate exactly the march of a column,\nunder different circumstances, according to the time it requires. These\nare matters the knowledge of which cannot be forced out by an apparatus\nof scientific formula and machinery: they are only to be gained by the\nexercise of an accurate judgment in the observation of things and of\nmen, aided by a special talent for the apprehension of both.\n\nThe necessary knowledge for a high position in military action is\ntherefore distinguished by this, that by observation, therefore by\nstudy and reflection, it is only to be attained through a special\ntalent which as an intellectual instinct understands how to extract\nfrom the phenomena of life only the essence or spirit, as bees do the\nhoney from the flowers; and that it is also to be gained by experience\nof life as well as by study and reflection. Life will never bring forth\na Newton or an Euler by its rich teachings, but it may bring forth\ngreat calculators in War, such as Cond\u00e9 or Frederick.\n\nIt is therefore not necessary that, in order to vindicate the\nintellectual dignity of military activity, we should resort to untruth\nand silly pedantry. There never has been a great and distinguished\nCommander of contracted mind, but very numerous are the instances of\nmen who, after serving with the greatest distinction in inferior\npositions, remained below mediocrity in the highest, from insufficiency\nof intellectual capacity. That even amongst those holding the post of\nCommander-in-Chief there may be a difference according to the degree of\ntheir plenitude of power is a matter of course.\n\n46. SCIENCE MUST BECOME ART.\n\n\nNow we have yet to consider one condition which is more necessary for\nthe knowledge of the conduct of War than for any other, which is, that\nit must pass completely into the mind and almost completely cease to be\nsomething objective. In almost all other arts and occupations of life\nthe active agent can make use of truths which he has only learnt once,\nand in the spirit and sense of which he no longer lives, and which he\nextracts from dusty books. Even truths which he has in hand and uses\ndaily may continue something external to himself, If the architect\ntakes up a pen to settle the strength of a pier by a complicated\ncalculation, the truth found as a result is no emanation from his own\nmind. He had first to find the data with labour, and then to submit\nthese to an operation of the mind, the rule for which he did not\ndiscover, the necessity of which he is perhaps at the moment only\npartly conscious of, but which he applies, for the most part, as if by\nmechanical dexterity. But it is never so in War. The moral reaction,\nthe ever-changeful form of things, makes it necessary for the chief\nactor to carry in himself the whole mental apparatus of his knowledge,\nthat anywhere and at every pulse-beat he may be capable of giving the\nrequisite decision from himself. Knowledge must, by this complete\nassimilation with his own mind and life, be converted into real power.\nThis is the reason why everything seems so easy with men distinguished\nin War, and why everything is ascribed to natural talent. We say\nnatural talent, in order thereby to distinguish it from that which is\nformed and matured by observation and study.\n\nWe think that by these reflections we have explained the problem of a\ntheory of the conduct of War; and pointed out the way to its solution.\n\nOf the two fields into which we have divided the conduct of War,\ntactics and strategy, the theory of the latter contains unquestionably,\nas before observed, the greatest difficulties, because the first is\nalmost limited to a circumscribed field of objects, but the latter, in\nthe direction of objects leading directly to peace, opens to itself an\nunlimited field of possibilities. Since for the most part the\nCommander-in-Chief has only to keep these objects steadily in view,\ntherefore the part of strategy in which he moves is also that which is\nparticularly subject to this difficulty.\n\nTheory, therefore, especially where it comprehends the highest\nservices, will stop much sooner in strategy than in tactics at the\nsimple consideration of things, and content itself to assist the\nCommander to that insight into things which, blended with his whole\nthought, makes his course easier and surer, never forces him into\nopposition with himself in order to obey an objective truth.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. Art or Science of War\n\n1.\u2014USAGE STILL UNSETTLED\n(POWER AND KNOWLEDGE. SCIENCE WHEN MERE KNOWING; ART, WHEN DOING, IS\nTHE OBJECT.)\n\n\nThe choice between these terms seems to be still unsettled, and no one\nseems to know rightly on what grounds it should be decided, and yet the\nthing is simple. We have already said elsewhere that \u201cknowing\u201d is\nsomething different from \u201cdoing.\u201d The two are so different that they\nshould not easily be mistaken the one for the other. The \u201cdoing\u201d cannot\nproperly stand in any book, and therefore also Art should never be the\ntitle of a book. But because we have once accustomed ourselves to\ncombine in conception, under the name of theory of Art, or simply Art,\nthe branches of knowledge (which may be separately pure sciences)\nnecessary for the practice of an Art, therefore it is consistent to\ncontinue this ground of distinction, and to call everything Art when\nthe object is to carry out the \u201cdoing\u201d (being able), as for example,\nArt of building; Science, when merely knowledge is the object; as\nScience of mathematics, of astronomy. That in every Art certain\ncomplete sciences may be included is intelligible of itself, and should\nnot perplex us. But still it is worth observing that there is also no\nscience without a mixture of Art. In mathematics, for instance, the use\nof figures and of algebra is an Art, but that is only one amongst many\ninstances. The reason is, that however plain and palpable the\ndifference is between knowledge and power in the composite results of\nhuman knowledge, yet it is difficult to trace out their line of\nseparation in man himself.\n\n2. DIFFICULTY OF SEPARATING PERCEPTION FROM JUDGMENT.\n(ART OF WAR.)\n\n\nAll thinking is indeed Art. Where the logician draws the line, where\nthe premises stop which are the result of cognition\u2014where judgment\nbegins, there Art begins. But more than this even the perception of the\nmind is judgment again, and consequently Art; and at last, even the\nperception by the senses as well. In a word, if it is impossible to\nimagine a human being possessing merely the faculty of cognition,\ndevoid of judgment or the reverse, so also Art and Science can never be\ncompletely separated from each other. The more these subtle elements of\nlight embody themselves in the outward forms of the world, so much the\nmore separate appear their domains; and now once more, where the object\nis creation and production, there is the province of Art; where the\nobject is investigation and knowledge Science holds sway.\u2014After all\nthis it results of itself that it is more fitting to say Art of War\nthan Science of War.\n\nSo much for this, because we cannot do without these conceptions. But\nnow we come forward with the assertion that War is neither an Art nor a\nScience in the real signification, and that it is just the setting out\nfrom that starting-point of ideas which has led to a wrong direction\nbeing taken, which has caused War to be put on a par with other arts\nand sciences, and has led to a number of erroneous analogies.\n\nThis has indeed been felt before now, and on that it was maintained\nthat War is a handicraft; but there was more lost than gained by that,\nfor a handicraft is only an inferior art, and as such is also subject\nto definite and rigid laws. In reality the Art of War did go on for\nsome time in the spirit of a handicraft\u2014we allude to the times of the\nCondottieri\u2014but then it received that direction, not from intrinsic but\nfrom external causes; and military history shows how little it was at\nthat time in accordance with the nature of the thing.\n\n3. WAR IS PART OF THE INTERCOURSE OF THE HUMAN RACE.\n\n\nWe say therefore War belongs not to the province of Arts and Sciences,\nbut to the province of social life. It is a conflict of great interests\nwhich is settled by bloodshed, and only in that is it different from\nothers. It would be better, instead of comparing it with any Art, to\nliken it to business competition, which is also a conflict of human\ninterests and activities; and it is still more like State policy, which\nagain, on its part, may be looked upon as a kind of business\ncompetition on a great scale. Besides, State policy is the womb in\nwhich War is developed, in which its outlines lie hidden in a\nrudimentary state, like the qualities of living creatures in their\ngerms.(*)\n\n(*) The analogy has become much closer since Clausewitz\u2019s time. Now\nthat the first business of the State is regarded as the development of\nfacilities for trade, War between great nations is only a question of\ntime. No Hague Conferences can avert it\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\n4. DIFFERENCE.\n\n\nThe essential difference consists in this, that War is no activity of\nthe will, which exerts itself upon inanimate matter like the mechanical\nArts; or upon a living but still passive and yielding subject, like the\nhuman mind and the human feelings in the ideal Arts, but against a\nliving and reacting force. How little the categories of Arts and\nSciences are applicable to such an activity strikes us at once; and we\ncan understand at the same time how that constant seeking and striving\nafter laws like those which may be developed out of the dead material\nworld could not but lead to constant errors. And yet it is just the\nmechanical Arts that some people would imitate in the Art of War. The\nimitation of the ideal Arts was quite out of the question, because\nthese themselves dispense too much with laws and rules, and those\nhitherto tried, always acknowledged as insufficient and one-sided, are\nperpetually undermined and washed away by the current of opinions,\nfeelings, and customs.\n\nWhether such a conflict of the living, as takes place and is settled in\nWar, is subject to general laws, and whether these are capable of\nindicating a useful line of action, will be partly investigated in this\nbook; but so much is evident in itself, that this, like every other\nsubject which does not surpass our powers of understanding, may be\nlighted up, and be made more or less plain in its inner relations by an\ninquiring mind, and that alone is sufficient to realise the idea of a\nTHEORY.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Methodicism\n\nIn order to explain ourselves clearly as to the conception of method,\nand method of action, which play such an important part in War, we must\nbe allowed to cast a hasty glance at the logical hierarchy through\nwhich, as through regularly constituted official functionaries, the\nworld of action is governed.\n\n_Law_, in the widest sense strictly applying to perception as well as\naction, has plainly something subjective and arbitrary in its literal\nmeaning, and expresses just that on which we and those things external\nto us are dependent. As a subject of cognition, _Law_ is the relation\nof things and their effects to one another; as a subject of the will,\nit is a motive of action, and is then equivalent to _command_ or\n_prohibition_.\n\n_Principle_ is likewise such a law for action, except that it has not\nthe formal definite meaning, but is only the spirit and sense of law in\norder to leave the judgment more freedom of application when the\ndiversity of the real world cannot be laid hold of under the definite\nform of a law. As the judgment must of itself suggest the cases in\nwhich the principle is not applicable, the latter therefore becomes in\nthat way a real aid or guiding star for the person acting.\n\nPrinciple is _objective_ when it is the result of objective truth, and\nconsequently of equal value for all men; it is _subjective_, and then\ngenerally called _maxim_ if there are subjective relations in it, and\nif it therefore has a certain value only for the person himself who\nmakes it.\n\n_Rule_ is frequently taken in the sense of _Law_, and then means the\nsame as _Principle_, for we say \u201cno rule without exceptions,\u201d but we do\nnot say \u201cno law without exceptions,\u201d a sign that with _Rule_ we retain\nto ourselves more freedom of application.\n\nIn another meaning _Rule_ is the means used of discerning a recondite\ntruth in a particular sign lying close at hand, in order to attach to\nthis particular sign the law of action directed upon the whole truth.\nOf this kind are all the rules of games of play, all abridged processes\nin mathematics, &c.\n\n_Directions_ and _instructions_ are determinations of action which have\nan influence upon a number of minor circumstances too numerous and\nunimportant for general laws.\n\nLastly, _Method, mode of acting_, is an always recurring proceeding\nselected out of several possible ones; and _Methodicism_ (METHODISMUS)\nis that which is determined by methods instead of by general principles\nor particular prescriptions. By this the cases which are placed under\nsuch methods must necessarily be supposed alike in their essential\nparts. As they cannot all be this, then the point is that at least as\nmany as possible should be; in other words, that Method should be\ncalculated on the most probable cases. Methodicism is therefore not\nfounded on determined particular premises, but on the average\nprobability of cases one with another; and its ultimate tendency is to\nset up an average truth, the constant and uniform, application of which\nsoon acquires something of the nature of a mechanical appliance, which\nin the end does that which is right almost unwittingly.\n\nThe conception of law in relation to perception is not necessary for\nthe conduct of War, because the complex phenomena of War are not so\nregular, and the regular are not so complex, that we should gain\nanything more by this conception than by the simple truth. And where a\nsimple conception and language is sufficient, to resort to the complex\nbecomes affected and pedantic. The conception of law in relation to\naction cannot be used in the theory of the conduct of War, because\nowing to the variableness and diversity of the phenomena there is in it\nno determination of such a general nature as to deserve the name of\nlaw.\n\nBut principles, rules, prescriptions, and methods are conceptions\nindispensable to a theory of the conduct of War, in so far as that\ntheory leads to positive doctrines, because in doctrines the truth can\nonly crystallise itself in such forms.\n\nAs tactics is the branch of the conduct of War in which theory can\nattain the nearest to positive doctrine, therefore these conceptions\nwill appear in it most frequently.\n\nNot to use cavalry against unbroken infantry except in some case of\nspecial emergency, only to use firearms within effective range in the\ncombat, to spare the forces as much as possible for the final\nstruggle\u2014these are tactical principles. None of them can be applied\nabsolutely in every case, but they must always be present to the mind\nof the Chief, in order that the benefit of the truth contained in them\nmay not be lost in cases where that truth can be of advantage.\n\nIf from the unusual cooking by an enemy\u2019s camp his movement is\ninferred, if the intentional exposure of troops in a combat indicates a\nfalse attack, then this way of discerning the truth is called rule,\nbecause from a single visible circumstance that conclusion is drawn\nwhich corresponds with the same.\n\nIf it is a rule to attack the enemy with renewed vigour, as soon as he\nbegins to limber up his artillery in the combat, then on this\nparticular fact depends a course of action which is aimed at the\ngeneral situation of the enemy as inferred from the above fact, namely,\nthat he is about to give up the fight, that he is commencing to draw\noff his troops, and is neither capable of making a serious stand while\nthus drawing off nor of making his retreat gradually in good order.\n\n_Regulations_ and _methods_ bring preparatory theories into the conduct\nof War, in so far as disciplined troops are inoculated with them as\nactive principles. The whole body of instructions for formations,\ndrill, and field service are regulations and methods: in the drill\ninstructions the first predominate, in the field service instructions\nthe latter. To these things the real conduct of War attaches itself; it\ntakes them over, therefore, as given modes of proceeding, and as such\nthey must appear in the theory of the conduct of War.\n\nBut for those activities retaining freedom in the employment of these\nforces there cannot be regulations, that is, definite instructions,\nbecause they would do away with freedom of action. Methods, on the\nother hand, as a general way of executing duties as they arise,\ncalculated, as we have said, on an average of probability, or as a\ndominating influence of principles and rules carried through to\napplication, may certainly appear in the theory of the conduct of War,\nprovided only they are not represented as something different from what\nthey are, not as the absolute and necessary modes of action (systems),\nbut as the best of general forms which may be used as shorter ways in\nplace of a particular disposition for the occasion, at discretion.\n\nBut the frequent application of methods will be seen to be most\nessential and unavoidable in the conduct of War, if we reflect how much\naction proceeds on mere conjecture, or in complete uncertainty, because\none side is prevented from learning all the circumstances which\ninfluence the dispositions of the other, or because, even if these\ncircumstances which influence the decisions of the one were really\nknown, there is not, owing to their extent and the dispositions they\nwould entail, sufficient time for the other to carry out all necessary\ncounteracting measures\u2014that therefore measures in War must always be\ncalculated on a certain number of possibilities; if we reflect how\nnumberless are the trifling things belonging to any single event, and\nwhich therefore should be taken into account along with it, and that\ntherefore there is no other means to suppose the one counteracted by\nthe other, and to base our arrangements only upon what is of a general\nnature and probable; if we reflect lastly that, owing to the increasing\nnumber of officers as we descend the scale of rank, less must be left\nto the true discernment and ripe judgment of individuals the lower the\nsphere of action, and that when we reach those ranks where we can look\nfor no other notions but those which the regulations of the service and\nexperience afford, we must help them with the methodic forms bordering\non those regulations. This will serve both as a support to their\njudgment and a barrier against those extravagant and erroneous views\nwhich are so especially to be dreaded in a sphere where experience is\nso costly.\n\nBesides this absolute need of method in action, we must also\nacknowledge that it has a positive advantage, which is that, through\nthe constant repetition of a formal exercise, a readiness, precision,\nand firmness is attained in the movement of troops which diminishes the\nnatural friction, and makes the machine move easier.\n\nMethod will therefore be the more generally used, become the more\nindispensable, the farther down the scale of rank the position of the\nactive agent; and on the other hand, its use will diminish upwards,\nuntil in the highest position it quite disappears. For this reason it\nis more in its place in tactics than in strategy.\n\nWar in its highest aspects consists not of an infinite number of little\nevents, the diversities in which compensate each other, and which\ntherefore by a better or worse method are better or worse governed, but\nof separate great decisive events which must be dealt with separately.\nIt is not like a field of stalks, which, without any regard to the\nparticular form of each stalk, will be mowed better or worse, according\nas the mowing instrument is good or bad, but rather as a group of large\ntrees, to which the axe must be laid with judgment, according to the\nparticular form and inclination of each separate trunk.\n\nHow high up in military activity the admissibility of method in action\nreaches naturally determines itself, not according to actual rank, but\naccording to things; and it affects the highest positions in a less\ndegree, only because these positions have the most comprehensive\nsubjects of activity. A constant order of battle, a constant formation\nof advance guards and outposts, are methods by which a General ties not\nonly his subordinates\u2019 hands, but also his own in certain cases.\nCertainly they may have been devised by himself, and may be applied by\nhim according to circumstances, but they may also be a subject of\ntheory, in so far as they are based on the general properties of troops\nand weapons. On the other hand, any method by which definite plans for\nwars or campaigns are to be given out all ready made as if from a\nmachine are absolutely worthless.\n\nAs long as there exists no theory which can be sustained, that is, no\nenlightened treatise on the conduct of War, method in action cannot but\nencroach beyond its proper limits in high places, for men employed in\nthese spheres of activity have not always had the opportunity of\neducating themselves, through study and through contact with the higher\ninterests. In the impracticable and inconsistent disquisitions of\ntheorists and critics they cannot find their way, their sound common\nsense rejects them, and as they bring with them no knowledge but that\nderived from experience, therefore in those cases which admit of, and\nrequire, a free individual treatment they readily make use of the means\nwhich experience gives them\u2014that is, an imitation of the particular\nmethods practised by great Generals, by which a method of action then\narises of itself. If we see Frederick the Great\u2019s Generals always\nmaking their appearance in the so-called oblique order of battle, the\nGenerals of the French Revolution always using turning movements with a\nlong, extended line of battle, and Buonaparte\u2019s lieutenants rushing to\nthe attack with the bloody energy of concentrated masses, then we\nrecognise in the recurrence of the mode of proceeding evidently an\nadopted method, and see therefore that method of action can reach up to\nregions bordering on the highest. Should an improved theory facilitate\nthe study of the conduct of War, form the mind and judgment of men who\nare rising to the highest commands, then also method in action will no\nlonger reach so far, and so much of it as is to be considered\nindispensable will then at least be formed from theory itself, and not\ntake place out of mere imitation. However pre-eminently a great\nCommander does things, there is always something subjective in the way\nhe does them; and if he has a certain manner, a large share of his\nindividuality is contained in it which does not always accord with the\nindividuality of the person who copies his manner.\n\nAt the same time, it would neither be possible nor right to banish\nsubjective methodicism or manner completely from the conduct of War: it\nis rather to be regarded as a manifestation of that influence which the\ngeneral character of a War has upon its separate events, and to which\nsatisfaction can only be done in that way if theory is not able to\nforesee this general character and include it in its considerations.\nWhat is more natural than that the War of the French Revolution had its\nown way of doing things? and what theory could ever have included that\npeculiar method? The evil is only that such a manner originating in a\nspecial case easily outlives itself, because it continues whilst\ncircumstances imperceptibly change. This is what theory should prevent\nby lucid and rational criticism. When in the year 1806 the Prussian\nGenerals, Prince Louis at Saalfeld, Tauentzien on the Dornberg near\nJena, Grawert before and Ruechel behind Kappellendorf, all threw\nthemselves into the open jaws of destruction in the oblique order of\nFrederick the Great, and managed to ruin Hohenlohe\u2019s Army in a way that\nno Army was ever ruined, even on the field of battle, all this was done\nthrough a manner which had outlived its day, together with the most\ndownright stupidity to which methodicism ever led.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Criticism\n\nThe influence of theoretical principles upon real life is produced more\nthrough criticism than through doctrine, for as criticism is an\napplication of abstract truth to real events, therefore it not only\nbrings truth of this description nearer to life, but also accustoms the\nunderstanding more to such truths by the constant repetition of their\napplication. We therefore think it necessary to fix the point of view\nfor criticism next to that for theory.\n\nFrom the simple narration of an historical occurrence which places\nevents in chronological order, or at most only touches on their more\nimmediate causes, we separate the CRITICAL.\n\nIn this CRITICAL three different operations of the mind may be\nobserved.\n\nFirst, the historical investigation and determining of doubtful facts.\nThis is properly historical research, and has nothing in common with\ntheory.\n\nSecondly, the tracing of effects to causes. This is the REAL CRITICAL\nINQUIRY; it is indispensable to theory, for everything which in theory\nis to be established, supported, or even merely explained, by\nexperience can only be settled in this way.\n\nThirdly, the testing of the means employed. This is criticism, properly\nspeaking, in which praise and censure is contained. This is where\ntheory helps history, or rather, the teaching to be derived from it.\n\nIn these two last strictly critical parts of historical study, all\ndepends on tracing things to their primary elements, that is to say, up\nto undoubted truths, and not, as is so often done, resting half-way,\nthat is, on some arbitrary assumption or supposition.\n\nAs respects the tracing of effect to cause, that is often attended with\nthe insuperable difficulty that the real causes are not known. In none\nof the relations of life does this so frequently happen as in War,\nwhere events are seldom fully known, and still less motives, as the\nlatter have been, perhaps purposely, concealed by the chief actor, or\nhave been of such a transient and accidental character that they have\nbeen lost for history. For this reason critical narration must\ngenerally proceed hand in hand with historical investigation, and still\nsuch a want of connection between cause and effect will often present\nitself, that it does not seem justifiable to consider effects as the\nnecessary results of known causes. Here, therefore must occur, that is,\nhistorical results which cannot be made use of for teaching. All that\ntheory can demand is that the investigation should be rigidly conducted\nup to that point, and there leave off without drawing conclusions. A\nreal evil springs up only if the known is made perforce to suffice as\nan explanation of effects, and thus a false importance is ascribed to\nit.\n\nBesides this difficulty, critical inquiry also meets with another great\nand intrinsic one, which is that the progress of events in War seldom\nproceeds from one simple cause, but from several in common, and that it\ntherefore is not sufficient to follow up a series of events to their\norigin in a candid and impartial spirit, but that it is then also\nnecessary to apportion to each contributing cause its due weight. This\nleads, therefore, to a closer investigation of their nature, and thus a\ncritical investigation may lead into what is the proper field of\ntheory.\n\nThe critical CONSIDERATION, that is, the testing of the means, leads to\nthe question, Which are the effects peculiar to the means applied, and\nwhether these effects were comprehended in the plans of the person\ndirecting?\n\nThe effects peculiar to the means lead to the investigation of their\nnature, and thus again into the field of theory.\n\nWe have already seen that in criticism all depends upon attaining to\npositive truth; therefore, that we must not stop at arbitrary\npropositions which are not allowed by others, and to which other\nperhaps equally arbitrary assertions may again be opposed, so that\nthere is no end to pros and cons; the whole is without result, and\ntherefore without instruction.\n\nWe have seen that both the search for causes and the examination of\nmeans lead into the field of theory; that is, into the field of\nuniversal truth, which does not proceed solely from the case\nimmediately under examination. If there is a theory which can be used,\nthen the critical consideration will appeal to the proofs there\nafforded, and the examination may there stop. But where no such\ntheoretical truth is to be found, the inquiry must be pushed up to the\noriginal elements. If this necessity occurs often, it must lead the\nhistorian (according to a common expression) into a labyrinth of\ndetails. He then has his hands full, and it is impossible for him to\nstop to give the requisite attention everywhere; the consequence is,\nthat in order to set bounds to his investigation, he adopts some\narbitrary assumptions which, if they do not appear so to him, do so to\nothers, as they are not evident in themselves or capable of proof.\n\nA sound theory is therefore an essential foundation for criticism, and\nit is impossible for it, without the assistance of a sensible theory,\nto attain to that point at which it commences chiefly to be\ninstructive, that is, where it becomes demonstration, both convincing\nand sans r\u00e9plique.\n\nBut it would be a visionary hope to believe in the possibility of a\ntheory applicable to every abstract truth, leaving nothing for\ncriticism to do but to place the case under its appropriate law: it\nwould be ridiculous pedantry to lay down as a rule for criticism that\nit must always halt and turn round on reaching the boundaries of sacred\ntheory. The same spirit of analytical inquiry which is the origin of\ntheory must also guide the critic in his work; and it can and must\ntherefore happen that he strays beyond the boundaries of the province\nof theory and elucidates those points with which he is more\nparticularly concerned. It is more likely, on the contrary, that\ncriticism would completely fail in its object if it degenerated into a\nmechanical application of theory. All positive results of theoretical\ninquiry, all principles, rules, and methods, are the more wanting in\ngenerality and positive truth the more they become positive doctrine.\nThey exist to offer themselves for use as required, and it must always\nbe left for judgment to decide whether they are suitable or not. Such\nresults of theory must never be used in criticism as rules or norms for\na standard, but in the same way as the person acting should use them,\nthat is, merely as aids to judgment. If it is an acknowledged principle\nin tactics that in the usual order of battle cavalry should be placed\nbehind infantry, not in line with it, still it would be folly on this\naccount to condemn every deviation from this principle. Criticism must\ninvestigate the grounds of the deviation, and it is only in case these\nare insufficient that it has a right to appeal to principles laid down\nin theory. If it is further established in theory that a divided attack\ndiminishes the probability of success, still it would be just as\nunreasonable, whenever there is a divided attack and an unsuccessful\nissue, to regard the latter as the result of the former, without\nfurther investigation into the connection between the two, as where a\ndivided attack is successful to infer from it the fallacy of that\ntheoretical principle. The spirit of investigation which belongs to\ncriticism cannot allow either. Criticism therefore supports itself\nchiefly on the results of the analytical investigation of theory; what\nhas been made out and determined by theory does not require to be\ndemonstrated over again by criticism, and it is so determined by theory\nthat criticism may find it ready demonstrated.\n\nThis office of criticism, of examining the effect produced by certain\ncauses, and whether a means applied has answered its object, will be\neasy enough if cause and effect, means and end, are all near together.\n\nIf an Army is surprised, and therefore cannot make a regular and\nintelligent use of its powers and resources, then the effect of the\nsurprise is not doubtful.\u2014If theory has determined that in a battle the\nconvergent form of attack is calculated to produce greater but less\ncertain results, then the question is whether he who employs that\nconvergent form had in view chiefly that greatness of result as his\nobject; if so, the proper means were chosen. But if by this form he\nintended to make the result more certain, and that expectation was\nfounded not on some exceptional circumstances (in this case), but on\nthe general nature of the convergent form, as has happened a hundred\ntimes, then he mistook the nature of the means and committed an error.\n\nHere the work of military investigation and criticism is easy, and it\nwill always be so when confined to the immediate effects and objects.\nThis can be done quite at option, if we abstract the connection of the\nparts with the whole, and only look at things in that relation.\n\nBut in War, as generally in the world, there is a connection between\neverything which belongs to a whole; and therefore, however small a\ncause may be in itself, its effects reach to the end of the act of\nwarfare, and modify or influence the final result in some degree, let\nthat degree be ever so small. In the same manner every means must be\nfelt up to the ultimate object.\n\nWe can therefore trace the effects of a cause as long as events are\nworth noticing, and in the same way we must not stop at the testing of\na means for the immediate object, but test also this object as a means\nto a higher one, and thus ascend the series of facts in succession,\nuntil we come to one so absolutely necessary in its nature as to\nrequire no examination or proof. In many cases, particularly in what\nconcerns great and decisive measures, the investigation must be carried\nto the final aim, to that which leads immediately to peace.\n\nIt is evident that in thus ascending, at every new station which we\nreach a new point of view for the judgment is attained, so that the\nsame means which appeared advisable at one station, when looked at from\nthe next above it may have to be rejected.\n\nThe search for the causes of events and the comparison of means with\nends must always go hand in hand in the critical review of an act, for\nthe investigation of causes leads us first to the discovery of those\nthings which are worth examining.\n\nThis following of the clue up and down is attended with considerable\ndifficulty, for the farther from an event the cause lies which we are\nlooking for, the greater must be the number of other causes which must\nat the same time be kept in view and allowed for in reference to the\nshare which they have in the course of events, and then eliminated,\nbecause the higher the importance of a fact the greater will be the\nnumber of separate forces and circumstances by which it is conditioned.\nIf we have unravelled the causes of a battle being lost, we have\ncertainly also ascertained a part of the causes of the consequences\nwhich this defeat has upon the whole War, but only a part, because the\neffects of other causes, more or less according to circumstances, will\nflow into the final result.\n\nThe same multiplicity of circumstances is presented also in the\nexamination of the means the higher our point of view, for the higher\nthe object is situated, the greater must be the number of means\nemployed to reach it. The ultimate object of the War is the object\naimed at by all the Armies simultaneously, and it is therefore\nnecessary that the consideration should embrace all that each has done\nor could have done.\n\nIt is obvious that this may sometimes lead to a wide field of inquiry,\nin which it is easy to wander and lose the way, and in which this\ndifficulty prevails\u2014that a number of assumptions or suppositions must\nbe made about a variety of things which do not actually appear, but\nwhich in all probability did take place, and therefore cannot possibly\nbe left out of consideration.\n\nWhen Buonaparte, in 1797,(*) at the head of the Army of Italy, advanced\nfrom the Tagliamento against the Archduke Charles, he did so with a\nview to force that General to a decisive action before the\nreinforcements expected from the Rhine had reached him. If we look,\nonly at the immediate object, the means were well chosen and justified\nby the result, for the Archduke was so inferior in numbers that he only\nmade a show of resistance on the Tagliamento, and when he saw his\nadversary so strong and resolute, yielded ground, and left open the\npassages, of the Norican Alps. Now to what use could Buonaparte turn\nthis fortunate event? To penetrate into the heart of the Austrian\nempire itself, to facilitate the advance of the Rhine Armies under\nMoreau and Hoche, and open communication with them? This was the view\ntaken by Buonaparte, and from this point of view he was right. But now,\nif criticism places itself at a higher point of view\u2014namely, that of\nthe French Directory, which body could see and know that the Armies on\nthe Rhine could not commence the campaign for six weeks, then the\nadvance of Buonaparte over the Norican Alps can only be regarded as an\nextremely hazardous measure; for if the Austrians had drawn largely on\ntheir Rhine Armies to reinforce their Army in Styria, so as to enable\nthe Archduke to fall upon the Army of Italy, not only would that Army\nhave been routed, but the whole campaign lost. This consideration,\nwhich attracted the serious attention of Buonaparte at Villach, no\ndoubt induced him to sign the armistice of Leoben with so much\nreadiness.\n\n(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 276 _et\nseq._\n\n\nIf criticism takes a still higher position, and if it knows that the\nAustrians had no reserves between the Army of the Archduke Charles and\nVienna, then we see that Vienna became threatened by the advance of the\nArmy of Italy.\n\nSupposing that Buonaparte knew that the capital was thus uncovered, and\nknew that he still retained the same superiority in numbers over the\nArchduke as he had in Styria, then his advance against the heart of the\nAustrian States was no longer without purpose, and its value depended\non the value which the Austrians might place on preserving their\ncapital. If that was so great that, rather than lose it, they would\naccept the conditions of peace which Buonaparte was ready to offer\nthem, it became an object of the first importance to threaten Vienna.\nIf Buonaparte had any reason to know this, then criticism may stop\nthere, but if this point was only problematical, then criticism must\ntake a still higher position, and ask what would have followed if the\nAustrians had resolved to abandon Vienna and retire farther into the\nvast dominions still left to them. But it is easy to see that this\nquestion cannot be answered without bringing into the consideration the\nprobable movements of the Rhine Armies on both sides. Through the\ndecided superiority of numbers on the side of the French\u2014130,000 to\n80,000\u2014there could be little doubt of the result; but then next arises\nthe question, What use would the Directory make of a victory; whether\nthey would follow up their success to the opposite frontiers of the\nAustrian monarchy, therefore to the complete breaking up or overthrow\nof that power, or whether they would be satisfied with the conquest of\na considerable portion to serve as a security for peace? The probable\nresult in each case must be estimated, in order to come to a conclusion\nas to the probable determination of the Directory. Supposing the result\nof these considerations to be that the French forces were much too weak\nfor the complete subjugation of the Austrian monarchy, so that the\nattempt might completely reverse the respective positions of the\ncontending Armies, and that even the conquest and occupation of a\nconsiderable district of country would place the French Army in\nstrategic relations to which they were not equal, then that result must\nnaturally influence the estimate of the position of the Army of Italy,\nand compel it to lower its expectations. And this, it was no doubt\nwhich influenced Buonaparte, although fully aware of the helpless\ncondition of the Archduke, still to sign the peace of Campo Formio,\nwhich imposed no greater sacrifices on the Austrians than the loss of\nprovinces which, even if the campaign took the most favourable turn for\nthem, they could not have reconquered. But the French could not have\nreckoned on even the moderate treaty of Campo Formio, and therefore it\ncould not have been their object in making their bold advance if two\nconsiderations had not presented themselves to their view, the first of\nwhich consisted in the question, what degree of value the Austrians\nwould attach to each of the above-mentioned results; whether,\nnotwithstanding the probability of a satisfactory result in either of\nthese cases, would it be worth while to make the sacrifices inseparable\nfrom a continuance of the War, when they could be spared those\nsacrifices by a peace on terms not too humiliating? The second\nconsideration is the question whether the Austrian Government, instead\nof seriously weighing the possible results of a resistance pushed to\nextremities, would not prove completely disheartened by the impression\nof their present reverses.\n\nThe consideration which forms the subject of the first is no idle piece\nof subtle argument, but a consideration of such decidedly practical\nimportance that it comes up whenever the plan of pushing War to the\nutmost extremity is mooted, and by its weight in most cases restrains\nthe execution of such plans.\n\nThe second consideration is of equal importance, for we do not make War\nwith an abstraction but with a reality, which we must always keep in\nview, and we may be sure that it was not overlooked by the bold\nBuonaparte\u2014that is, that he was keenly alive to the terror which the\nappearance of his sword inspired. It was reliance on that which led him\nto Moscow. There it led him into a scrape. The terror of him had been\nweakened by the gigantic struggles in which he had been engaged; in the\nyear 1797 it was still fresh, and the secret of a resistance pushed to\nextremities had not been discovered; nevertheless even in 1797 his\nboldness might have led to a negative result if, as already said, he\nhad not with a sort of presentiment avoided it by signing the moderate\npeace of Campo Formio.\n\nWe must now bring these considerations to a close\u2014they will suffice to\nshow the wide sphere, the diversity and embarrassing nature of the\nsubjects embraced in a critical examination carried to the fullest\nextent, that is, to those measures of a great and decisive class which\nmust necessarily be included. It follows from them that besides a\ntheoretical acquaintance with the subject, natural talent must also\nhave a great influence on the value of critical examinations, for it\nrests chiefly with the latter to throw the requisite light on the\ninterrelations of things, and to distinguish from amongst the endless\nconnections of events those which are really essential.\n\nBut talent is also called into requisition in another way. Critical\nexamination is not merely the appreciation of those means which have\nbeen actually employed, but also of all possible means, which therefore\nmust be suggested in the first place\u2014that is, must be discovered; and\nthe use of any particular means is not fairly open to censure until a\nbetter is pointed out. Now, however small the number of possible\ncombinations may be in most cases, still it must be admitted that to\npoint out those which have not been used is not a mere analysis of\nactual things, but a spontaneous creation which cannot be prescribed,\nand depends on the fertility of genius.\n\nWe are far from seeing a field for great genius in a case which admits\nonly of the application of a few simple combinations, and we think it\nexceedingly ridiculous to hold up, as is often done, the turning of a\nposition as an invention showing the highest genius; still nevertheless\nthis creative self-activity on the part of the critic is necessary, and\nit is one of the points which essentially determine the value of\ncritical examination.\n\nWhen Buonaparte on 30th July, 1796,(*) determined to raise the siege of\nMantua, in order to march with his whole force against the enemy,\nadvancing in separate columns to the relief of the place, and to beat\nthem in detail, this appeared the surest way to the attainment of\nbrilliant victories. These victories actually followed, and were\nafterwards again repeated on a still more brilliant scale on the\nattempt to relieve the fortress being again renewed. We hear only one\nopinion on these achievements, that of unmixed admiration.\n\n(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 107 _et\nseq_.\n\n\nAt the same time, Buonaparte could not have adopted this course on the\n30th July without quite giving up the idea of the siege of Mantua,\nbecause it was impossible to save the siege train, and it could not be\nreplaced by another in this campaign. In fact, the siege was converted\ninto a blockade, and the town, which if the siege had continued must\nhave very shortly fallen, held out for six months in spite of\nBuonaparte\u2019s victories in the open field.\n\nCriticism has generally regarded this as an evil that was unavoidable,\nbecause critics have not been able to suggest any better course.\nResistance to a relieving Army within lines of circumvallation had\nfallen into such disrepute and contempt that it appears to have\nentirely escaped consideration as a means. And yet in the reign of\nLouis XIV. that measure was so often used with success that we can only\nattribute to the force of fashion the fact that a hundred years later\nit never occurred to any one even to propose such a measure. If the\npracticability of such a plan had ever been entertained for a moment, a\ncloser consideration of circumstances would have shown that 40,000 of\nthe best infantry in the world under Buonaparte, behind strong lines of\ncircumvallation round Mantua, had so little to fear from the 50,000 men\ncoming to the relief under Wurmser, that it was very unlikely that any\nattempt even would be made upon their lines. We shall not seek here to\nestablish this point, but we believe enough has been said to show that\nthis means was one which had a right to a share of consideration.\nWhether Buonaparte himself ever thought of such a plan we leave\nundecided; neither in his memoirs nor in other sources is there any\ntrace to be found of his having done so; in no critical works has it\nbeen touched upon, the measure being one which the mind had lost sight\nof. The merit of resuscitating the idea of this means is not great, for\nit suggests itself at once to any one who breaks loose from the\ntrammels of fashion. Still it is necessary that it should suggest\nitself for us to bring it into consideration and compare it with the\nmeans which Buonaparte employed. Whatever may be the result of the\ncomparison, it is one which should not be omitted by criticism.\n\nWhen Buonaparte, in February, 1814,(*) after gaining the battles at\nEtoges, Champ-Aubert, and Montmirail, left Bl\u00fccher\u2019s Army, and turning\nupon Schwartzenberg, beat his troops at Montereau and Mormant, every\none was filled with admiration, because Buonaparte, by thus throwing\nhis concentrated force first upon one opponent, then upon another, made\na brilliant use of the mistakes which his adversaries had committed in\ndividing their forces. If these brilliant strokes in different\ndirections failed to save him, it was generally considered to be no\nfault of his, at least. No one has yet asked the question, What would\nhave been the result if, instead of turning from Bl\u00fccher upon\nSchwartzenberg, he had tried another blow at Bl\u00fccher, and pursued him\nto the Rhine? We are convinced that it would have completely changed\nthe course of the campaign, and that the Army of the Allies, instead of\nmarching to Paris, would have retired behind the Rhine. We do not ask\nothers to share our conviction, but no one who understands the thing\nwill doubt, at the mere mention of this alternative course, that it is\none which should not be overlooked in criticism.\n\n(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition. vol. vii. p. 193 _et\nseq_.\n\n\nIn this case the means of comparison lie much more on the surface than\nin the foregoing, but they have been equally overlooked, because\none-sided views have prevailed, and there has been no freedom of\njudgment.\n\nFrom the necessity of pointing out a better means which might have been\nused in place of those which are condemned has arisen the form of\ncriticism almost exclusively in use, which contents itself with\npointing out the better means without demonstrating in what the\nsuperiority consists. The consequence is that some are not convinced,\nthat others start up and do the same thing, and that thus discussion\narises which is without any fixed basis for the argument. Military\nliterature abounds with matter of this sort.\n\nThe demonstration we require is always necessary when the superiority\nof the means propounded is not so evident as to leave no room for\ndoubt, and it consists in the examination of each of the means on its\nown merits, and then of its comparison with the object desired. When\nonce the thing is traced back to a simple truth, controversy must\ncease, or at all events a new result is obtained, whilst by the other\nplan the _pros_ and _cons_ go on for ever consuming each other.\n\nShould we, for example, not rest content with assertion in the case\nbefore mentioned, and wish to prove that the persistent pursuit of\nBl\u00fccher would have been more advantageous than the turning on\nSchwartzenberg, we should support the arguments on the following simple\ntruths:\n\n1. In general it is more advantageous to continue our blows in one and\nthe same direction, because there is a loss of time in striking in\ndifferent directions; and at a point where the moral power is already\nshaken by considerable losses there is the more reason to expect fresh\nsuccesses, therefore in that way no part of the preponderance already\ngained is left idle.\n\n2. Because Bl\u00fccher, although weaker than Schwartzenberg, was, on\naccount of his enterprising spirit, the more important adversary; in\nhim, therefore, lay the centre of attraction which drew the others\nalong in the same direction.\n\n3. Because the losses which Bl\u00fccher had sustained almost amounted to a\ndefeat, which gave Buonaparte such a preponderance over him as to make\nhis retreat to the Rhine almost certain, and at the same time no\nreserves of any consequence awaited him there.\n\n4. Because there was no other result which would be so terrific in its\naspects, would appear to the imagination in such gigantic proportions,\nan immense advantage in dealing with a Staff so weak and irresolute as\nthat of Schwartzenberg notoriously was at this time. What had happened\nto the Crown Prince of Wartemberg at Montereau, and to Count\nWittgenstein at Mormant, Prince Schwartzenberg must have known well\nenough; but all the untoward events on Bl\u00fccher\u2019s distant and separate\nline from the Marne to the Rhine would only reach him by the avalanche\nof rumour. The desperate movements which Buonaparte made upon Vitry at\nthe end of March, to see what the Allies would do if he threatened to\nturn them strategically, were evidently done on the principle of\nworking on their fears; but it was done under far different\ncircumstances, in consequence of his defeat at Laon and Arcis, and\nbecause Bl\u00fccher, with 100,000 men, was then in communication with\nSchwartzenberg.\n\nThere are people, no doubt, who will not be convinced on these\narguments, but at all events they cannot retort by saying, that \u201cwhilst\nBuonaparte threatened Schwartzenberg\u2019s base by advancing to the Rhine,\nSchwartzenberg at the same time threatened Buonaparte\u2019s communications\nwith Paris,\u201d because we have shown by the reasons above given that\nSchwartzenberg would never have thought of marching on Paris.\n\nWith respect to the example quoted by us from the campaign of 1796, we\nshould say: Buonaparte looked upon the plan he adopted as the surest\nmeans of beating the Austrians; but admitting that it was so, still the\nobject to be attained was only an empty victory, which could have\nhardly any sensible influence on the fall of Mantua. The way which we\nshould have chosen would, in our opinion, have been much more certain\nto prevent the relief of Mantua; but even if we place ourselves in the\nposition of the French General and assume that it was not so, and look\nupon the certainty of success to have been less, the question then\namounts to a choice between a more certain but less useful, and\ntherefore less important, victory on the one hand, and a somewhat less\nprobable but far more decisive and important victory, on the other\nhand. Presented in this form, boldness must have declared for the\nsecond solution, which is the reverse of what took place, when the\nthing was only superficially viewed. Buonaparte certainly was anything\nbut deficient in boldness, and we may be sure that he did not see the\nwhole case and its consequences as fully and clearly as we can at the\npresent time.\n\nNaturally the critic, in treating of the means, must often appeal to\nmilitary history, as experience is of more value in the Art of War than\nall philosophical truth. But this exemplification from history is\nsubject to certain conditions, of which we shall treat in a special\nchapter and unfortunately these conditions are so seldom regarded that\nreference to history generally only serves to increase the confusion of\nideas.\n\nWe have still a most important subject to consider, which is, How far\ncriticism in passing judgments on particular events is permitted, or in\nduty bound, to make use of its wider view of things, and therefore also\nof that which is shown by results; or when and where it should leave\nout of sight these things in order to place itself, as far as possible,\nin the exact position of the chief actor?\n\nIf criticism dispenses praise or censure, it should seek to place\nitself as nearly as possible at the same point of view as the person\nacting, that is to say, to collect all he knew and all the motives on\nwhich he acted, and, on the other hand, to leave out of the\nconsideration all that the person acting could not or did not know, and\nabove all, the result. But this is only an object to aim at, which can\nnever be reached because the state of circumstances from which an event\nproceeded can never be placed before the eye of the critic exactly as\nit lay before the eye of the person acting. A number of inferior\ncircumstances, which must have influenced the result, are completely\nlost to sight, and many a subjective motive has never come to light.\n\nThe latter can only be learnt from the memoirs of the chief actor, or\nfrom his intimate friends; and in such things of this kind are often\ntreated of in a very desultory manner, or purposely misrepresented.\nCriticism must, therefore, always forego much which was present in the\nminds of those whose acts are criticised.\n\nOn the other hand, it is much more difficult to leave out of sight that\nwhich criticism knows in excess. This is only easy as regards\naccidental circumstances, that is, circumstances which have been mixed\nup, but are in no way necessarily related. But it is very difficult,\nand, in fact, can never be completely done with regard to things really\nessential.\n\nLet us take first, the result. If it has not proceeded from accidental\ncircumstances, it is almost impossible that the knowledge of it should\nnot have an effect on the judgment passed on events which have preceded\nit, for we see these things in the light of this result, and it is to a\ncertain extent by it that we first become acquainted with them and\nappreciate them. Military history, with all its events, is a source of\ninstruction for criticism itself, and it is only natural that criticism\nshould throw that light on things which it has itself obtained from the\nconsideration of the whole. If therefore it might wish in some cases to\nleave the result out of the consideration, it would be impossible to do\nso completely.\n\nBut it is not only in relation to the result, that is, with what takes\nplace at the last, that this embarrassment arises; the same occurs in\nrelation to preceding events, therefore with the data which furnished\nthe motives to action. Criticism has before it, in most cases, more\ninformation on this point than the principal in the transaction. Now it\nmay seem easy to dismiss from the consideration everything of this\nnature, but it is not so easy as we may think. The knowledge of\npreceding and concurrent events is founded not only on certain\ninformation, but on a number of conjectures and suppositions; indeed,\nthere is hardly any of the information respecting things not purely\naccidental which has not been preceded by suppositions or conjectures\ndestined to take the place of certain information in case such should\nnever be supplied. Now is it conceivable that criticism in after times,\nwhich has before it as facts all the preceding and concurrent\ncircumstances, should not allow itself to be thereby influenced when it\nasks itself the question, What portion of the circumstances, which at\nthe moment of action were unknown, would it have held to be probable?\nWe maintain that in this case, as in the case of the results, and for\nthe same reason, it is impossible to disregard all these things\ncompletely.\n\nIf therefore the critic wishes to bestow praise or blame upon any\nsingle act, he can only succeed to a certain degree in placing himself\nin the position of the person whose act he has under review. In many\ncases he can do so sufficiently near for any practical purpose, but in\nmany instances it is the very reverse, and this fact should never be\noverlooked.\n\nBut it is neither necessary nor desirable that criticism should\ncompletely identify itself with the person acting. In War, as in all\nmatters of skill, there is a certain natural aptitude required which is\ncalled talent. This may be great or small. In the first case it may\neasily be superior to that of the critic, for what critic can pretend\nto the skill of a Frederick or a Buonaparte? Therefore, if criticism is\nnot to abstain altogether from offering an opinion where eminent talent\nis concerned, it must be allowed to make use of the advantage which its\nenlarged horizon affords. Criticism must not, therefore, treat the\nsolution of a problem by a great General like a sum in arithmetic; it\nis only through the results and through the exact coincidences of\nevents that it can recognise with admiration how much is due to the\nexercise of genius, and that it first learns the essential combination\nwhich the glance of that genius devised.\n\nBut for every, even the smallest, act of genius it is necessary that\ncriticism should take a higher point of view, so that, having at\ncommand many objective grounds of decision, it may be as little\nsubjective as possible, and that the critic may not take the limited\nscope of his own mind as a standard.\n\nThis elevated position of criticism, its praise and blame pronounced\nwith a full knowledge of all the circumstances, has in itself nothing\nwhich hurts our feelings; it only does so if the critic pushes himself\nforward, and speaks in a tone as if all the wisdom which he has\nobtained by an exhaustive examination of the event under consideration\nwere really his own talent. Palpable as is this deception, it is one\nwhich people may easily fall into through vanity, and one which is\nnaturally distasteful to others. It very often happens that although\nthe critic has no such arrogant pretensions, they are imputed to him by\nthe reader because he has not expressly disclaimed them, and then\nfollows immediately a charge of a want of the power of critical\njudgment.\n\nIf therefore a critic points out an error made by a Frederick or a\nBuonaparte, that does not mean that he who makes the criticism would\nnot have committed the same error; he may even be ready to grant that\nhad he been in the place of these great Generals he might have made\nmuch greater mistakes; he merely sees this error from the chain of\nevents, and he thinks that it should not have escaped the sagacity of\nthe General.\n\nThis is, therefore, an opinion formed through the connection of events,\nand therefore through the RESULT. But there is another quite different\neffect of the result itself upon the judgment, that is if it is used\nquite alone as an example for or against the soundness of a measure.\nThis may be called JUDGMENT ACCORDING TO THE RESULT. Such a judgment\nappears at first sight inadmissible, and yet it is not.\n\nWhen Buonaparte marched to Moscow in 1812, all depended upon whether\nthe taking of the capital, and the events which preceded the capture,\nwould force the Emperor Alexander to make peace, as he had been\ncompelled to do after the battle of Friedland in 1807, and the Emperor\nFrancis in 1805 and 1809 after Austerlitz and Wagram; for if Buonaparte\ndid not obtain a peace at Moscow, there was no alternative but to\nreturn\u2014that is, there was nothing for him but a strategic defeat. We\nshall leave out of the question what he did to get to Moscow, and\nwhether in his advance he did not miss many opportunities of bringing\nthe Emperor Alexander to peace; we shall also exclude all consideration\nof the disastrous circumstances which attended his retreat, and which\nperhaps had their origin in the general conduct of the campaign. Still\nthe question remains the same, for however much more brilliant the\ncourse of the campaign up to Moscow might have been, still there was\nalways an uncertainty whether the Emperor Alexander would be\nintimidated into making peace; and then, even if a retreat did not\ncontain in itself the seeds of such disasters as did in fact occur,\nstill it could never be anything else than a great strategic defeat. If\nthe Emperor Alexander agreed to a peace which was disadvantageous to\nhim, the campaign of 1812 would have ranked with those of Austerlitz,\nFriedland, and Wagram. But these campaigns also, if they had not led to\npeace, would in all probability have ended in similar catastrophes.\nWhatever, therefore, of genius, skill, and energy the Conqueror of the\nWorld applied to the task, this last question addressed to fate(*)\nremained always the same. Shall we then discard the campaigns of 1805,\n1807, 1809, and say on account of the campaign of 1812 that they were\nacts of imprudence; that the results were against the nature of things,\nand that in 1812 strategic justice at last found vent for itself in\nopposition to blind chance? That would be an unwarrantable conclusion,\na most arbitrary judgment, a case only half proved, because no human,\neye can trace the thread of the necessary connection of events up to\nthe determination of the conquered Princes.\n\n(*) \u201cFrage an der Schicksal,\u201d a familiar quotation from Schiller.\u2014TR.\n\n\nStill less can we say the campaign of 1812 merited the same success as\nthe others, and that the reason why it turned out otherwise lies in\nsomething unnatural, for we cannot regard the firmness of Alexander as\nsomething unpredictable.\n\nWhat can be more natural than to say that in the years 1805, 1807,\n1809, Buonaparte judged his opponents correctly, and that in 1812 he\nerred in that point? On the former occasions, therefore, he was right,\nin the latter wrong, and in both cases we judge by the _result_.\n\nAll action in War, as we have already said, is directed on probable,\nnot on certain, results. Whatever is wanting in certainty must always\nbe left to fate, or chance, call it which you will. We may demand that\nwhat is so left should be as little as possible, but only in relation\nto the particular case\u2014that is, as little as is possible in this one\ncase, but not that the case in which the least is left to chance is\nalways to be preferred. That would be an enormous error, as follows\nfrom all our theoretical views. There are cases in which the greatest\ndaring is the greatest wisdom.\n\nNow in everything which is left to chance by the chief actor, his\npersonal merit, and therefore his responsibility as well, seems to be\ncompletely set aside; nevertheless we cannot suppress an inward feeling\nof satisfaction whenever expectation realises itself, and if it\ndisappoints us our mind is dissatisfied; and more than this of right\nand wrong should not be meant by the judgment which we form from the\nmere result, or rather that we find there.\n\nNevertheless, it cannot be denied that the satisfaction which our mind\nexperiences at success, the pain caused by failure, proceed from a sort\nof mysterious feeling; we suppose between that success ascribed to good\nfortune and the genius of the chief a fine connecting thread, invisible\nto the mind\u2019s eye, and the supposition gives pleasure. What tends to\nconfirm this idea is that our sympathy increases, becomes more decided,\nif the successes and defeats of the principal actor are often repeated.\nThus it becomes intelligible how good luck in War assumes a much nobler\nnature than good luck at play. In general, when a fortunate warrior\ndoes not otherwise lessen our interest in his behalf, we have a\npleasure in accompanying him in his career.\n\nCriticism, therefore, after having weighed all that comes within the\nsphere of human reason and conviction, will let the result speak for\nthat part where the deep mysterious relations are not disclosed in any\nvisible form, and will protect this silent sentence of a higher\nauthority from the noise of crude opinions on the one hand, while on\nthe other it prevents the gross abuse which might be made of this last\ntribunal.\n\nThis verdict of the result must therefore always bring forth that which\nhuman sagacity cannot discover; and it will be chiefly as regards the\nintellectual powers and operations that it will be called into\nrequisition, partly because they can be estimated with the least\ncertainty, partly because their close connection with the will is\nfavourable to their exercising over it an important influence. When\nfear or bravery precipitates the decision, there is nothing objective\nintervening between them for our consideration, and consequently\nnothing by which sagacity and calculation might have met the probable\nresult.\n\nWe must now be allowed to make a few observations on the instrument of\ncriticism, that is, the language which it uses, because that is to a\ncertain extent connected with the action in War; for the critical\nexamination is nothing more than the deliberation which should precede\naction in War. We therefore think it very essential that the language\nused in criticism should have the same character as that which\ndeliberation in War must have, for otherwise it would cease to be\npractical, and criticism could gain no admittance in actual life.\n\nWe have said in our observations on the theory of the conduct of War\nthat it should educate the mind of the Commander for War, or that its\nteaching should guide his education; also that it is not intended to\nfurnish him with positive doctrines and systems which he can use like\nmental appliances. But if the construction of scientific formulae is\nnever required, or even allowable, in War to aid the decision on the\ncase presented, if truth does not appear there in a systematic shape,\nif it is not found in an indirect way, but directly by the natural\nperception of the mind, then it must be the same also in a critical\nreview.\n\nIt is true as we have seen that, wherever complete demonstration of the\nnature of things would be too tedious, criticism must support itself on\nthose truths which theory has established on the point. But, just as in\nWar the actor obeys these theoretical truths rather because his mind is\nimbued with them than because he regards them as objective inflexible\nlaws, so criticism must also make use of them, not as an external law\nor an algebraic formula, of which fresh proof is not required each time\nthey are applied, but it must always throw a light on this proof\nitself, leaving only to theory the more minute and circumstantial\nproof. Thus it avoids a mysterious, unintelligible phraseology, and\nmakes its progress in plain language, that is, with a clear and always\nvisible chain of ideas.\n\nCertainly this cannot always be completely attained, but it must always\nbe the aim in critical expositions. Such expositions must use\ncomplicated forms of science as sparingly as possible, and never resort\nto the construction of scientific aids as of a truth apparatus of its\nown, but always be guided by the natural and unbiassed impressions of\nthe mind.\n\nBut this pious endeavour, if we may use the expression, has\nunfortunately seldom hitherto presided over critical examinations: the\nmost of them have rather been emanations of a species of vanity\u2014a wish\nto make a display of ideas.\n\nThe first evil which we constantly stumble upon is a lame, totally\ninadmissible application of certain one-sided systems as of a formal\ncode of laws. But it is never difficult to show the one-sidedness of\nsuch systems, and this only requires to be done once to throw discredit\nfor ever on critical judgments which are based on them. We have here to\ndeal with a definite subject, and as the number of possible systems\nafter all can be but small, therefore also they are themselves the\nlesser evil.\n\nMuch greater is the evil which lies in the pompous retinue of technical\nterms\u2014scientific expressions and metaphors, which these systems carry\nin their train, and which like a rabble-like the baggage of an Army\nbroken away from its Chief\u2014hang about in all directions. Any critic who\nhas not adopted a system, either because he has not found one to please\nhim, or because he has not yet been able to make himself master of one,\nwill at least occasionally make use of a piece of one, as one would use\na ruler, to show the blunders committed by a General. The most of them\nare incapable of reasoning without using as a help here and there some\nshreds of scientific military theory. The smallest of these fragments,\nconsisting in mere scientific words and metaphors, are often nothing\nmore than ornamental flourishes of critical narration. Now it is in the\nnature of things that all technical and scientific expressions which\nbelong to a system lose their propriety, if they ever had any, as soon\nas they are distorted, and used as general axioms, or as small\ncrystalline talismans, which have more power of demonstration than\nsimple speech.\n\nThus it has come to pass that our theoretical and critical books,\ninstead of being straightforward, intelligible dissertations, in which\nthe author always knows at least what he says and the reader what he\nreads, are brimful of these technical terms, which form dark points of\ninterference where author and reader part company. But frequently they\nare something worse, being nothing but hollow shells without any\nkernel. The author himself has no clear perception of what he means,\ncontents himself with vague ideas, which if expressed in plain language\nwould be unsatisfactory even to himself.\n\nA third fault in criticism is the _misuse_ of _historical examples_,\nand a display of great reading or learning. What the history of the Art\nof War is we have already said, and we shall further explain our views\non examples and on military history in general in special chapters. One\nfact merely touched upon in a very cursory manner may be used to\nsupport the most opposite views, and three or four such facts of the\nmost heterogeneous description, brought together out of the most\ndistant lands and remote times and heaped up, generally distract and\nbewilder the judgment and understanding without demonstrating anything;\nfor when exposed to the light they turn out to be only trumpery\nrubbish, made use of to show off the author\u2019s learning.\n\nBut what can be gained for practical life by such obscure, partly\nfalse, confused arbitrary conceptions? So little is gained that theory\non account of them has always been a true antithesis of practice, and\nfrequently a subject of ridicule to those whose soldierly qualities in\nthe field are above question.\n\nBut it is impossible that this could have been the case, if theory in\nsimple language, and by natural treatment of those things which\nconstitute the Art of making War, had merely sought to establish just\nso much as admits of being established; if, avoiding all false\npretensions and irrelevant display of scientific forms and historical\nparallels, it had kept close to the subject, and gone hand in hand with\nthose who must conduct affairs in the field by their own natural\ngenius.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. On Examples\n\nExamples from history make everything clear, and furnish the best\ndescription of proof in the empirical sciences. This applies with more\nforce to the Art of War than to any other. General Scharnhorst, whose\nhandbook is the best ever written on actual War, pronounces historical\nexamples to be of the first importance, and makes an admirable use of\nthem himself. Had he survived the War in which he fell,(*) the fourth\npart of his revised treatise on artillery would have given a still\ngreater proof of the observing and enlightened spirit in which he\nsifted matters of experience.\n\nBut such use of historical examples is rarely made by theoretical\nwriters; the way in which they more commonly make use of them is rather\ncalculated to leave the mind unsatisfied, as well as to offend the\nunderstanding. We therefore think it important to bring specially into\nview the use and abuse of historical examples.\n\n(*) General Scharnhorst died in 1813, of a wound received in the battle\nof Bautzen or Grosz Gorchen\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nUnquestionably the branches of knowledge which lie at the foundation of\nthe Art of War come under the denomination of empirical sciences; for\nalthough they are derived in a great measure from the nature of things,\nstill we can only learn this very nature itself for the most part from\nexperience; and besides that, the practical application is modified by\nso many circumstances that the effects can never be completely learnt\nfrom the mere nature of the means.\n\nThe effects of gunpowder, that great agent in our military activity,\nwere only learnt by experience, and up to this hour experiments are\ncontinually in progress in order to investigate them more fully. That\nan iron ball to which powder has given a velocity of 1000 feet in a\nsecond, smashes every living thing which it touches in its course is\nintelligible in itself; experience is not required to tell us that; but\nin producing this effect how many hundred circumstances are concerned,\nsome of which can only be learnt by experience! And the physical is not\nthe only effect which we have to study, it is the moral which we are in\nsearch of, and that can only be ascertained by experience; and there is\nno other way of learning and appreciating it but by experience. In the\nmiddle ages, when firearms were first invented, their effect, owing to\ntheir rude make, was materially but trifling compared to what it now\nis, but their effect morally was much greater. One must have witnessed\nthe firmness of one of those masses taught and led by Buonaparte, under\nthe heaviest and most unintermittent cannonade, in order to understand\nwhat troops, hardened by long practice in the field of danger, can do,\nwhen by a career of victory they have reached the noble principle of\ndemanding from themselves their utmost efforts. In pure conception no\none would believe it. On the other hand, it is well known that there\nare troops in the service of European Powers at the present moment who\nwould easily be dispersed by a few cannon shots.\n\nBut no empirical science, consequently also no theory of the Art of\nWar, can always corroborate its truths by historical proof; it would\nalso be, in some measure, difficult to support experience by single\nfacts. If any means is once found efficacious in War, it is repeated;\none nation copies another, the thing becomes the fashion, and in this\nmanner it comes into use, supported by experience, and takes its place\nin theory, which contents itself with appealing to experience in\ngeneral in order to show its origin, but not as a verification of its\ntruth.\n\nBut it is quite otherwise if experience is to be used in order to\noverthrow some means in use, to confirm what is doubtful, or introduce\nsomething new; then particular examples from history must be quoted as\nproofs.\n\nNow, if we consider closely the use of historical proofs, four points\nof view readily present themselves for the purpose.\n\nFirst, they may be used merely as an _explanation_ of an idea. In every\nabstract consideration it is very easy to be misunderstood, or not to\nbe intelligible at all: when an author is afraid of this, an\nexemplification from history serves to throw the light which is wanted\non his idea, and to ensure his being intelligible to his reader.\n\nSecondly, it may serve as an _application_ of an idea, because by means\nof an example there is an opportunity of showing the action of those\nminor circumstances which cannot all be comprehended and explained in\nany general expression of an idea; for in that consists, indeed, the\ndifference between theory and experience. Both these cases belong to\nexamples properly speaking, the two following belong to historical\nproofs.\n\nThirdly, a historical fact may be referred to particularly, in order to\nsupport what one has advanced. This is in all cases sufficient, if we\nhave _only_ to prove the _possibility_ of a fact or effect.\n\nLastly, in the fourth place, from the circumstantial detail of a\nhistorical event, and by collecting together several of them, we may\ndeduce some theory, which therefore has its true _proof_ in this\ntestimony itself.\n\nFor the first of these purposes all that is generally required is a\ncursory notice of the case, as it is only used partially. Historical\ncorrectness is a secondary consideration; a case invented might also\nserve the purpose as well, only historical ones are always to be\npreferred, because they bring the idea which they illustrate nearer to\npractical life.\n\nThe second use supposes a more circumstantial relation of events, but\nhistorical authenticity is again of secondary importance, and in\nrespect to this point the same is to be said as in the first case.\n\nFor the third purpose the mere quotation of an undoubted fact is\ngenerally sufficient. If it is asserted that fortified positions may\nfulfil their object under certain conditions, it is only necessary to\nmention the position of Bunzelwitz(*) in support of the assertion.\n\n(*) Frederick the Great\u2019s celebrated entrenched camp in 1761.\n\n\nBut if, through the narrative of a case in history, an abstract truth\nis to be demonstrated, then everything in the case bearing on the\ndemonstration must be analysed in the most searching and complete\nmanner; it must, to a certain extent, develop itself carefully before\nthe eyes of the reader. The less effectually this is done the weaker\nwill be the proof, and the more necessary it will be to supply the\ndemonstrative proof which is wanting in the single case by a number of\ncases, because we have a right to suppose that the more minute details\nwhich we are unable to give neutralise each other in their effects in a\ncertain number of cases.\n\nIf we want to show by example derived from experience that cavalry are\nbetter placed behind than in a line with infantry; that it is very\nhazardous without a decided preponderance of numbers to attempt an\nenveloping movement, with widely separated columns, either on a field\nof battle or in the theatre of war\u2014that is, either tactically or\nstrategically\u2014then in the first of these cases it would not be\nsufficient to specify some lost battles in which the cavalry was on the\nflanks and some gained in which the cavalry was in rear of the\ninfantry; and in the tatter of these cases it is not sufficient to\nrefer to the battles of Rivoli and Wagram, to the attack of the\nAustrians on the theatre of war in Italy, in 1796, or of the French\nupon the German theatre of war in the same year. The way in which these\norders of battle or plans of attack essentially contributed to\ndisastrous issues in those particular cases must be shown by closely\ntracing out circumstances and occurrences. Then it will appear how far\nsuch forms or measures are to be condemned, a point which it is very\nnecessary to show, for a total condemnation would be inconsistent with\ntruth.\n\nIt has been already said that when a circumstantial detail of facts is\nimpossible, the demonstrative power which is deficient may to a certain\nextent be supplied by the number of cases quoted; but this is a very\ndangerous method of getting out of the difficulty, and one which has\nbeen much abused. Instead of one well-explained example, three or four\nare just touched upon, and thus a show is made of strong evidence. But\nthere are matters where a whole dozen of cases brought forward would\nprove nothing, if, for instance, they are facts of frequent occurrence,\nand therefore a dozen other cases with an opposite result might just as\neasily be brought forward. If any one will instance a dozen lost\nbattles in which the side beaten attacked in separate converging\ncolumns, we can instance a dozen that have been gained in which the\nsame order was adopted. It is evident that in this way no result is to\nbe obtained.\n\nUpon carefully considering these different points, it will be seen how\neasily examples may be misapplied.\n\nAn occurrence which, instead of being carefully analysed in all its\nparts, is superficially noticed, is like an object seen at a great\ndistance, presenting the same appearance on each side, and in which the\ndetails of its parts cannot be distinguished. Such examples have, in\nreality, served to support the most contradictory opinions. To some\nDaun\u2019s campaigns are models of prudence and skill. To others, they are\nnothing but examples of timidity and want of resolution. Buonaparte\u2019s\npassage across the Noric Alps in 1797 may be made to appear the noblest\nresolution, but also as an act of sheer temerity. His strategic defeat\nin 1812 may be represented as the consequence either of an excess, or\nof a deficiency, of energy. All these opinions have been broached, and\nit is easy to see that they might very well arise, because each person\ntakes a different view of the connection of events. At the same time\nthese antagonistic opinions cannot be reconciled with each other, and\ntherefore one of the two must be wrong.\n\nMuch as we are obliged to the worthy Feuquieres for the numerous\nexamples introduced in his memoirs\u2014partly because a number of\nhistorical incidents have thus been preserved which might otherwise\nhave been lost, and partly because he was one of the first to bring\ntheoretical, that is, abstract, ideas into connection with the\npractical in war, in so far that the cases brought forward may be\nregarded as intended to exemplify and confirm what is theoretically\nasserted\u2014yet, in the opinion of an impartial reader, he will hardly be\nallowed to have attained the object he proposed to himself, that of\nproving theoretical principles by historical examples. For although he\nsometimes relates occurrences with great minuteness, still he falls\nshort very often of showing that the deductions drawn necessarily\nproceed from the inner relations of these events.\n\nAnother evil which comes from the superficial notice of historical\nevents, is that some readers are either wholly ignorant of the events,\nor cannot call them to remembrance sufficiently to be able to grasp the\nauthor\u2019s meaning, so that there is no alternative between either\naccepting blindly what is said, or remaining unconvinced.\n\nIt is extremely difficult to put together or unfold historical events\nbefore the eyes of a reader in such a way as is necessary, in order to\nbe able to use them as proofs; for the writer very often wants the\nmeans, and can neither afford the time nor the requisite space; but we\nmaintain that, when the object is to establish a new or doubtful\nopinion, one single example, thoroughly analysed, is far more\ninstructive than ten which are superficially treated. The great\nmischief of these superficial representations is not that the writer\nputs his story forward as a proof when it has only a false title, but\nthat he has not made himself properly acquainted with the subject, and\nthat from this sort of slovenly, shallow treatment of history, a\nhundred false views and attempts at the construction of theories arise,\nwhich would never have made their appearance if the writer had looked\nupon it as his duty to deduce from the strict connection of events\neverything new which he brought to market, and sought to prove from\nhistory.\n\nWhen we are convinced of these difficulties in the use of historical\nexamples, and at the same time of the necessity (of making use of such\nexamples), then we shall also come to the conclusion that the latest\nmilitary history is naturally the best field from which to draw them,\ninasmuch as it alone is sufficiently authentic and detailed.\n\nIn ancient times, circumstances connected with War, as well as the\nmethod of carrying it on, were different; therefore its events are of\nless use to us either theoretically or practically; in addition to\nwhich, military history, like every other, naturally loses in the\ncourse of time a number of small traits and lineaments originally to be\nseen, loses in colour and life, like a worn-out or darkened picture; so\nthat perhaps at last only the large masses and leading features remain,\nwhich thus acquire undue proportions.\n\nIf we look at the present state of warfare, we should say that the Wars\nsince that of the Austrian succession are almost the only ones which,\nat least as far as armament, have still a considerable similarity to\nthe present, and which, notwithstanding the many important changes\nwhich have taken place both great and small, are still capable of\naffording much instruction. It is quite otherwise with the War of the\nSpanish succession, as the use of fire-arms had not then so far\nadvanced towards perfection, and cavalry still continued the most\nimportant arm. The farther we go back, the less useful becomes military\nhistory, as it gets so much the more meagre and barren of detail. The\nmost useless of all is that of the old world.\n\nBut this uselessness is not altogether absolute, it relates only to\nthose subjects which depend on a knowledge of minute details, or on\nthose things in which the method of conducting war has changed.\nAlthough we know very little about the tactics in the battles between\nthe Swiss and the Austrians, the Burgundians and French, still we find\nin them unmistakable evidence that they were the first in which the\nsuperiority of a good infantry over the best cavalry was, displayed. A\ngeneral glance at the time of the Condottieri teaches us how the whole\nmethod of conducting War is dependent on the instrument used; for at no\nperiod have the forces used in War had so much the characteristics of a\nspecial instrument, and been a class so totally distinct from the rest\nof the national community. The memorable way in which the Romans in the\nsecond Punic War attacked the Carthaginan possessions in Spain and\nAfrica, while Hannibal still maintained himself in Italy, is a most\ninstructive subject to study, as the general relations of the States\nand Armies concerned in this indirect act of defence are sufficiently\nwell known.\n\nBut the more things descend into particulars and deviate in character\nfrom the most general relations, the less we can look for examples and\nlessons of experience from very remote periods, for we have neither the\nmeans of judging properly of corresponding events, nor can we apply\nthem to our completely different method of War.\n\nUnfortunately, however, it has always been the fashion with historical\nwriters to talk about ancient times. We shall not say how far vanity\nand charlatanism may have had a share in this, but in general we fail\nto discover any honest intention and earnest endeavour to instruct and\nconvince, and we can therefore only look upon such quotations and\nreferences as embellishments to fill up gaps and hide defects.\n\nIt would be an immense service to teach the Art of War entirely by\nhistorical examples, as Feuquieres proposed to do; but it would be full\nwork for the whole life of a man, if we reflect that he who undertakes\nit must first qualify himself for the task by a long personal\nexperience in actual War.\n\nWhoever, stirred by ambition, undertakes such a task, let him prepare\nhimself for his pious undertaking as for a long pilgrimage; let him\ngive up his time, spare no sacrifice, fear no temporal rank or power,\nand rise above all feelings of personal vanity, of false shame, in\norder, according to the French code, to speak _the Truth, the whole\nTruth, and nothing but the Truth._\n\n\n\nBOOK III. OF STRATEGY IN GENERAL\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Strategy\n\nIn the second chapter of the second book, Strategy has been defined as\n\u201cthe employment of the battle as the means towards the attainment of\nthe object of the War.\u201d Properly speaking it has to do with nothing but\nthe battle, but its theory must include in this consideration the\ninstrument of this real activity\u2014the armed force\u2014in itself and in its\nprincipal relations, for the battle is fought by it, and shows its\neffects upon it in turn. It must be well acquainted with the battle\nitself as far as relates to its possible results, and those mental and\nmoral powers which are the most important in the use of the same.\n\nStrategy is the employment of the battle to gain the end of the War; it\nmust therefore give an aim to the whole military action, which must be\nin accordance with the object of the War; in other words, Strategy\nforms the plan of the War, and to this end it links together the series\nof acts which are to lead to the final decision, that, is to say, it\nmakes the plans for the separate campaigns and regulates the combats to\nbe fought in each. As these are all things which to a great extent can\nonly be determined on conjectures some of which turn out incorrect,\nwhile a number of other arrangements pertaining to details cannot be\nmade at all beforehand, it follows, as a matter of course, that\nStrategy must go with the Army to the field in order to arrange\nparticulars on the spot, and to make the modifications in the general\nplan, which incessantly become necessary in War. Strategy can therefore\nnever take its hand from the work for a moment.\n\nThat this, however, has not always been the view taken is evident from\nthe former custom of keeping Strategy in the cabinet and not with the\nArmy, a thing only allowable if the cabinet is so near to the Army that\nit can be taken for the chief head-quarters of the Army.\n\nTheory will therefore attend on Strategy in the determination of its\nplans, or, as we may more properly say, it will throw a light on things\nin themselves, and on their relations to each other, and bring out\nprominently the little that there is of principle or rule.\n\nIf we recall to mind from the first chapter how many things of the\nhighest importance War touches upon, we may conceive that a\nconsideration of all requires a rare grasp of mind.\n\nA Prince or General who knows exactly how to organise his War according\nto his object and means, who does neither too little nor too much,\ngives by that the greatest proof of his genius. But the effects of this\ntalent are exhibited not so much by the invention of new modes of\naction, which might strike the eye immediately, as in the successful\nfinal result of the whole. It is the exact fulfilment of silent\nsuppositions, it is the noiseless harmony of the whole action which we\nshould admire, and which only makes itself known in the total result.\nInquirer who, tracing back from the final result, does not perceive the\nsigns of that harmony is one who is apt to seek for genius where it is\nnot, and where it cannot be found.\n\nThe means and forms which Strategy uses are in fact so extremely\nsimple, so well known by their constant repetition, that it only\nappears ridiculous to sound common sense when it hears critics so\nfrequently speaking of them with high-flown emphasis. Turning a flank,\nwhich has been done a thousand times, is regarded here as a proof of\nthe most brilliant genius, there as a proof of the most profound\npenetration, indeed even of the most comprehensive knowledge. Can there\nbe in the book-world more absurd productions?(*)\n\n(*) This paragraph refers to the works of Lloyd, B\u00fclow, indeed to all\nthe eighteenth-century writers, from whose influence we in England are\nnot even yet free.\u2014ED.\n\n\nIt is still more ridiculous if, in addition to this, we reflect that\nthe same critic, in accordance with prevalent opinion, excludes all\nmoral forces from theory, and will not allow it to be concerned with\nanything but the material forces, so that all must be confined to a few\nmathematical relations of equilibrium and preponderance, of time and\nspace, and a few lines and angles. If it were nothing more than this,\nthen out of such a miserable business there would not be a scientific\nproblem for even a schoolboy.\n\nBut let us admit: there is no question here about scientific formulas\nand problems; the relations of material things are all very simple; the\nright comprehension of the moral forces which come into play is more\ndifficult. Still, even in respect to them, it is only in the highest\nbranches of Strategy that moral complications and a great diversity of\nquantities and relations are to be looked for, only at that point where\nStrategy borders on political science, or rather where the two become\none, and there, as we have before observed, they have more influence on\nthe \u201chow much\u201d and \u201chow little\u201d is to be done than on the form of\nexecution. Where the latter is the principal question, as in the single\nacts both great and small in War, the moral quantities are already\nreduced to a very small number.\n\nThus, then, in Strategy everything is very simple, but not on that\naccount very easy. Once it is determined from the relations of the\nState what should and may be done by War, then the way to it is easy to\nfind; but to follow that way straightforward, to carry out the plan\nwithout being obliged to deviate from it a thousand times by a thousand\nvarying influences, requires, besides great strength of character,\ngreat clearness and steadiness of mind, and out of a thousand men who\nare remarkable, some for mind, others for penetration, others again for\nboldness or strength of will, perhaps not one will combine in himself\nall those qualities which are required to raise a man above mediocrity\nin the career of a general.\n\nIt may sound strange, but for all who know War in this respect it is a\nfact beyond doubt, that much more strength of will is required to make\nan important decision in Strategy than in tactics. In the latter we are\nhurried on with the moment; a Commander feels himself borne along in a\nstrong current, against which he durst not contend without the most\ndestructive consequences, he suppresses the rising fears, and boldly\nventures further. In Strategy, where all goes on at a slower rate,\nthere is more room allowed for our own apprehensions and those of\nothers, for objections and remonstrances, consequently also for\nunseasonable regrets; and as we do not see things in Strategy as we do\nat least half of them in tactics, with the living eye, but everything\nmust be conjectured and assumed, the convictions produced are less\npowerful. The consequence is that most Generals, when they should act,\nremain stuck fast in bewildering doubts.\n\nNow let us cast a glance at history\u2014upon Frederick the Great\u2019s campaign\nof 1760, celebrated for its fine marches and man\u0153uvres: a perfect\nmasterpiece of Strategic skill as critics tell us. Is there really\nanything to drive us out of our wits with admiration in the King\u2019s\nfirst trying to turn Daun\u2019s right flank, then his left, then again his\nright, &c.? Are we to see profound wisdom in this? No, that we cannot,\nif we are to decide naturally and without affectation. What we rather\nadmire above all is the sagacity of the King in this respect, that\nwhile pursuing a great object with very limited means, he undertook\nnothing beyond his powers, and _just enough_ to gain his object. This\nsagacity of the General is visible not only in this campaign, but\nthroughout all the three Wars of the Great King!\n\nTo bring Silesia into the safe harbour of a well-guaranteed peace was\nhis object.\n\nAt the head of a small State, which was like other States in most\nthings, and only ahead of them in some branches of administration; he\ncould not be an Alexander, and, as Charles XII, he would only, like\nhim, have broken his head. We find, therefore, in the whole of his\nconduct of War, a controlled power, always well balanced, and never\nwanting in energy, which in the most critical moments rises to\nastonishing deeds, and the next moment oscillates quietly on again in\nsubordination to the play of the most subtle political influences.\nNeither vanity, thirst for glory, nor vengeance could make him deviate\nfrom his course, and this course alone it is which brought him to a\nfortunate termination of the contest.\n\nThese few words do but scant justice to this phase of the genius of the\ngreat General; the eyes must be fixed carefully on the extraordinary\nissue of the struggle, and the causes which brought about that issue\nmust be traced out, in order thoroughly to understand that nothing but\nthe King\u2019s penetrating eye brought him safely out of all his dangers.\n\nThis is one feature in this great Commander which we admire in the\ncampaign of 1760\u2014and in all others, but in this especially\u2014because in\nnone did he keep the balance even against such a superior hostile\nforce, with such a small sacrifice.\n\nAnother feature relates to the difficulty of execution. Marches to turn\na flank, right or left, are easily combined; the idea of keeping a\nsmall force always well concentrated to be able to meet the enemy on\nequal terms at any point, to multiply a force by rapid movement, is as\neasily conceived as expressed; the mere contrivance in these points,\ntherefore, cannot excite our admiration, and with respect to such\nsimple things, there is nothing further than to admit that they are\nsimple.\n\nBut let a General try to do these things like Frederick the Great. Long\nafterwards authors, who were eyewitnesses, have spoken of the danger,\nindeed of the imprudence, of the King\u2019s camps, and doubtless, at the\ntime he pitched them, the danger appeared three times as great as\nafterwards.\n\nIt was the same with his marches, under the eyes, nay, often under the\ncannon of the enemy\u2019s Army; these camps were taken up, these marches\nmade, not from want of prudence, but because in Daun\u2019s system, in his\nmode of drawing up his Army, in the responsibility which pressed upon\nhim, and in his character, Frederick found that security which\njustified his camps and marches. But it required the King\u2019s boldness,\ndetermination, and strength of will to see things in this light, and\nnot to be led astray and intimidated by the danger of which thirty\nyears after people still wrote and spoke. Few Generals in this\nsituation would have believed these simple strategic means to be\npracticable.\n\nAgain, another difficulty in execution lay in this, that the King\u2019s\nArmy in this campaign was constantly in motion. Twice it marched by\nwretched cross-roads, from the Elbe into Silesia, in rear of Daun and\npursued by Lascy (beginning of July, beginning of August). It required\nto be always ready for battle, and its marches had to be organised with\na degree of skill which necessarily called forth a proportionate amount\nof exertion. Although attended and delayed by thousands of waggons,\nstill its subsistence was extremely difficult. In Silesia, for eight\ndays before the battle of Leignitz, it had constantly to march,\ndefiling alternately right and left in front of the enemy:\u2014this costs\ngreat fatigue, and entails great privations.\n\nIs it to be supposed that all this could have been done without\nproducing great friction in the machine? Can the mind of a Commander\nelaborate such movements with the same ease as the hand of a land\nsurveyor uses the astrolabe? Does not the sight of the sufferings of\ntheir hungry, thirsty comrades pierce the hearts of the Commander and\nhis Generals a thousand times? Must not the murmurs and doubts which\nthese cause reach his ear? Has an ordinary man the courage to demand\nsuch sacrifices, and would not such efforts most certainly demoralise\nthe Army, break up the bands of discipline, and, in short, undermine\nits military virtue, if firm reliance on the greatness and\ninfallibility of the Commander did not compensate for all? Here,\ntherefore, it is that we should pay respect; it is these miracles of\nexecution which we should admire. But it is impossible to realise all\nthis in its full force without a foretaste of it by experience. He who\nonly knows War from books or the drill-ground cannot realise the whole\neffect of this counterpoise in action; _we beg him, therefore, to\naccept from us on faith and trust all that he is unable to supply from\nany personal experiences of his own._\n\nThis illustration is intended to give more clearness to the course of\nour ideas, and in closing this chapter we will only briefly observe\nthat in our exposition of Strategy we shall describe those separate\nsubjects which appear to us the most important, whether of a moral or\nmaterial nature; then proceed from the simple to the complex, and\nconclude with the inner connection of the whole act of War, in other\nwords, with the plan for a War or campaign.\n\nOBSERVATION.\n\n\nIn an earlier manuscript of the second book are the following passages\nendorsed by the author himself _to be used for the first Chapter of the\nsecond Book:_ the projected revision of that chapter not having been\nmade, the passages referred to are introduced here in full.\n\n\nBy the mere assemblage of armed forces at a particular point, a battle\nthere becomes possible, but does not always take place. Is that\npossibility now to be regarded as a reality and therefore an effective\nthing? Certainly, it is so by its results, and these effects, whatever\nthey may be, can never fail.\n\n1. POSSIBLE COMBATS ARE ON ACCOUNT OF THEIR RESULTS TO BE LOOKED UPON\nAS REAL ONES.\n\n\nIf a detachment is sent away to cut off the retreat of a flying enemy,\nand the enemy surrenders in consequence without further resistance,\nstill it is through the combat which is offered to him by this\ndetachment sent after him that he is brought to his decision.\n\nIf a part of our Army occupies an enemy\u2019s province which was\nundefended, and thus deprives the enemy of very considerable means of\nkeeping up the strength of his Army, it is entirely through the battle\nwhich our detached body gives the enemy to expect, in case he seeks to\nrecover the lost province, that we remain in possession of the same.\n\nIn both cases, therefore, the mere possibility of a battle has produced\nresults, and is therefore to be classed amongst actual events. Suppose\nthat in these cases the enemy has opposed our troops with others\nsuperior in force, and thus forced ours to give up their object without\na combat, then certainly our plan has failed, but the battle which we\noffered at (either of) those points has not on that account been\nwithout effect, for it attracted the enemy\u2019s forces to that point. And\nin case our whole undertaking has done us harm, it cannot be said that\nthese positions, these possible battles, have been attended with no\nresults; their effects, then, are similar to those of a lost battle.\n\nIn this manner we see that the destruction of the enemy\u2019s military\nforces, the overthrow of the enemy\u2019s power, is only to be done through\nthe effect of a battle, whether it be that it actually takes place, or\nthat it is merely offered, and not accepted.\n\n2. TWOFOLD OBJECT OF THE COMBAT.\n\n\nBut these effects are of two kinds, direct and indirect they are of the\nlatter, if other things intrude themselves and become the object of the\ncombat\u2014things which cannot be regarded as the destruction of enemy\u2019s\nforce, but only leading up to it, certainly by a circuitous road, but\nwith so much the greater effect. The possession of provinces, towns,\nfortresses, roads, bridges, magazines, &c., may be the _immediate_\nobject of a battle, but never the ultimate one. Things of this\ndescription can never be, looked upon otherwise than as means of\ngaining greater superiority, so as at last to offer battle to the enemy\nin such a way that it will be impossible for him to accept it.\nTherefore all these things must only be regarded as intermediate links,\nsteps, as it were, leading up to the effectual principle, but never as\nthat principle itself.\n\n3. EXAMPLE.\n\n\nIn 1814, by the capture of Buonaparte\u2019s capital the object of the War\nwas attained. The political divisions which had their roots in Paris\ncame into active operation, and an enormous split left the power of the\nEmperor to collapse of itself. Nevertheless the point of view from\nwhich we must look at all this is, that through these causes the forces\nand defensive means of Buonaparte were suddenly very much diminished,\nthe superiority of the Allies, therefore, just in the same measure\nincreased, and any further resistance then became _impossible_. It was\nthis impossibility which produced the peace with France. If we suppose\nthe forces of the Allies at that moment diminished to a like extent\nthrough external causes;\u2014if the superiority vanishes, then at the same\ntime vanishes also all the effect and importance of the taking of\nParis.\n\nWe have gone through this chain of argument in order to show that this\nis the natural and only true view of the thing from which it derives\nits importance. It leads always back to the question, What at any given\nmoment of the War or campaign will be the probable result of the great\nor small combats which the two sides might offer to each other? In the\nconsideration of a plan for a campaign, this question only is decisive\nas to the measures which are to be taken all through from the very\ncommencement.\n\n4. WHEN THIS VIEW IS NOT TAKEN, THEN A FALSE VALUE IS GIVEN TO OTHER\nTHINGS.\n\n\nIf we do not accustom ourselves to look upon War, and the single\ncampaigns in a War, as a chain which is all composed of battles strung\ntogether, one of which always brings on another; if we adopt the idea\nthat the taking of a certain geographical point, the occupation of an\nundefended province, is in itself anything; then we are very likely to\nregard it as an acquisition which we may retain; and if we look at it\nso, and not as a term in the whole series of events, we do not ask\nourselves whether this possession may not lead to greater disadvantages\nhereafter. How often we find this mistake recurring in military\nhistory.\n\nWe might say that, just as in commerce the merchant cannot set apart\nand place in security gains from one single transaction by itself, so\nin War a single advantage cannot be separated from the result of the\nwhole. Just as the former must always operate with the whole bulk of\nhis means, just so in War, only the sum total will decide on the\nadvantage or disadvantage of each item.\n\nIf the mind\u2019s eye is always directed upon the series of combats, so far\nas they can be seen beforehand, then it is always looking in the right\ndirection, and thereby the motion of the force acquires that rapidity,\nthat is to say, willing and doing acquire that energy which is suitable\nto the matter, and which is not to be thwarted or turned aside by\nextraneous influences.(*)\n\n(*) The whole of this chapter is directed against the theories of the\nAustrian Staff in 1814. It may be taken as the foundation of the modern\nteaching of the Prussian General Staff. See especially von K\u00e4mmer.\u2014ED.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Elements of Strategy\n\nThe causes which condition the use of the combat in Strategy may be\neasily divided into elements of different kinds, such as the moral,\nphysical, mathematical, geographical and statistical elements.\n\nThe first class includes all that can be called forth by moral\nqualities and effects; to the second belong the whole mass of the\nmilitary force, its organisation, the proportion of the three arms, &c.\n&c.; to the third, the angle of the lines of operation, the concentric\nand eccentric movements in as far as their geometrical nature has any\nvalue in the calculation; to the fourth, the influences of country,\nsuch as commanding points, hills, rivers, woods, roads, &c. &c.;\nlastly, to the fifth, all the means of supply. The separation of these\nthings once for all in the mind does good in giving clearness and\nhelping us to estimate at once, at a higher or lower value, the\ndifferent classes as we pass onwards. For, in considering them\nseparately, many lose of themselves their borrowed importance; one\nfeels, for instance, quite plainly that the value of a base of\noperations, even if we look at nothing in it but its relative position\nto the line of operations, depends much less in that simple form on the\ngeometrical element of the angle which they form with one another, than\non the nature of the roads and the country through which they pass.\n\nBut to treat upon Strategy according to these elements would be the\nmost unfortunate idea that could be conceived, for these elements are\ngenerally manifold, and intimately connected with each other in every\nsingle operation of War. We should lose ourselves in the most soulless\nanalysis, and as if in a horrid dream, we should be for ever trying in\nvain to build up an arch to connect this base of abstractions with\nfacts belonging to the real world. Heaven preserve every theorist from\nsuch an undertaking! We shall keep to the world of things in their\ntotality, and not pursue our analysis further than is necessary from\ntime to time to give distinctness to the idea which we wish to impart,\nand which has come to us, not by a speculative investigation, but\nthrough the impression made by the realities of War in their entirety.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. Moral Forces\n\nWe must return again to this subject, which is touched upon in the\nthird chapter of the second book, because the moral forces are amongst\nthe most important subjects in War. They form the spirit which\npermeates the whole being of War. These forces fasten themselves\nsoonest and with the greatest affinity on to the Will which puts in\nmotion and guides the whole mass of powers, uniting with it as it were\nin one stream, because this is a moral force itself. Unfortunately they\nwill escape from all book-analysis, for they will neither be brought\ninto numbers nor into classes, and require to be both seen and felt.\n\nThe spirit and other moral qualities which animate an Army, a General,\nor Governments, public opinion in provinces in which a War is raging,\nthe moral effect of a victory or of a defeat, are things which in\nthemselves vary very much in their nature, and which also, according as\nthey stand with regard to our object and our relations, may have an\ninfluence in different ways.\n\nAlthough little or nothing can be said about these things in books,\nstill they belong to the theory of the Art of War, as much as\neverything else which constitutes War. For I must here once more repeat\nthat it is a miserable philosophy if, according to the old plan, we\nestablish rules and principles wholly regardless of all moral forces,\nand then, as soon as these forces make their appearance, we begin to\ncount exceptions which we thereby establish as it were theoretically,\nthat is, make into rules; or if we resort to an appeal to genius, which\nis above all rules, thus giving out by implication, not only that rules\nwere only made for fools, but also that they themselves are no better\nthan folly.\n\nEven if the theory of the Art of War does no more in reality than\nrecall these things to remembrance, showing the necessity of allowing\nto the moral forces their full value, and of always taking them into\nconsideration, by so doing it extends its borders over the region of\nimmaterial forces, and by establishing that point of view, condemns\nbeforehand every one who would endeavour to justify himself before its\njudgment seat by the mere physical relations of forces.\n\nFurther out of regard to all other so-called rules, theory cannot\nbanish the moral forces beyond its frontier, because the effects of the\nphysical forces and the moral are completely fused, and are not to be\ndecomposed like a metal alloy by a chemical process. In every rule\nrelating to the physical forces, theory must present to the mind at the\nsame time the share which the moral powers will have in it, if it would\nnot be led to categorical propositions, at one time too timid and\ncontracted, at another too dogmatical and wide. Even the most\nmatter-of-fact theories have, without knowing it, strayed over into\nthis moral kingdom; for, as an example, the effects of a victory cannot\nin any way be explained without taking into consideration the moral\nimpressions. And therefore the most of the subjects which we shall go\nthrough in this book are composed half of physical, half of moral\ncauses and effects, and we might say the physical are almost no more\nthan the wooden handle, whilst the moral are the noble metal, the real\nbright-polished weapon.\n\nThe value of the moral powers, and their frequently incredible\ninfluence, are best exemplified by history, and this is the most\ngenerous and the purest nourishment which the mind of the General can\nextract from it.\u2014At the same time it is to be observed, that it is less\ndemonstrations, critical examinations, and learned treatises, than\nsentiments, general impressions, and single flashing sparks of truth,\nwhich yield the seeds of knowledge that are to fertilise the mind.\n\nWe might go through the most important moral phenomena in War, and with\nall the care of a diligent professor try what we could impart about\neach, either good or bad. But as in such a method one slides too much\ninto the commonplace and trite, whilst real mind quickly makes its\nescape in analysis, the end is that one gets imperceptibly to the\nrelation of things which everybody knows. We prefer, therefore, to\nremain here more than usually incomplete and rhapsodical, content to\nhave drawn attention to the importance of the subject in a general way,\nand to have pointed out the spirit in which the views given in this\nbook have been conceived.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. The Chief Moral Powers\n\nThese are _The Talents of the Commander; The Military Virtue of the\nArmy; Its National feeling_. Which of these is the most important no\none can tell in a general way, for it is very difficult to say anything\nin general of their strength, and still more difficult to compare the\nstrength of one with that of another. The best plan is not to\nundervalue any of them, a fault which human judgment is prone to,\nsometimes on one side, sometimes on another, in its whimsical\noscillations. It is better to satisfy ourselves of the undeniable\nefficacy of these three things by sufficient evidence from history.\n\nIt is true, however, that in modern times the Armies of European states\nhave arrived very much at a par as regards discipline and fitness for\nservice, and that the conduct of War has\u2014as philosophers would\nsay\u2014naturally developed itself, thereby become a method, common as it\nwere to all Armies, so that even from Commanders there is nothing\nfurther to be expected in the way of application of special means of\nArt, in the limited sense (such as Frederick the Second\u2019s oblique\norder). Hence it cannot be denied that, as matters now stand, greater\nscope is afforded for the influence of National spirit and habituation\nof an army to War. A long peace may again alter all this.(*)\n\n(*) Written shortly after the Great Napoleonic campaigns.\n\n\nThe national spirit of an Army (enthusiasm, fanatical zeal, faith,\nopinion) displays itself most in mountain warfare, where every one down\nto the common soldier is left to himself. On this account, a\nmountainous country is the best campaigning ground for popular levies.\n\nExpertness of an Army through training, and that well-tempered courage\nwhich holds the ranks together as if they had been cast in a mould,\nshow their superiority in an open country.\n\nThe talent of a General has most room to display itself in a closely\nintersected, undulating country. In mountains he has too little command\nover the separate parts, and the direction of all is beyond his powers;\nin open plains it is simple and does not exceed those powers.\n\nAccording to these undeniable elective affinities, plans should be\nregulated.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Military Virtue of an Army\n\nThis is distinguished from mere bravery, and still more from enthusiasm\nfor the business of War. The first is certainly a necessary constituent\npart of it, but in the same way as bravery, which is a natural gift in\nsome men, may arise in a soldier as a part of an Army from habit and\ncustom, so with him it must also have a different direction from that\nwhich it has with others. It must lose that impulse to unbridled\nactivity and exercise of force which is its characteristic in the\nindividual, and submit itself to demands of a higher kind, to\nobedience, order, rule, and method. Enthusiasm for the profession gives\nlife and greater fire to the military virtue of an Army, but does not\nnecessarily constitute a part of it.\n\nWar is a special business, and however general its relations may be,\nand even if all the male population of a country, capable of bearing\narms, exercise this calling, still it always continues to be different\nand separate from the other pursuits which occupy the life of man.\u2014To\nbe imbued with a sense of the spirit and nature of this business, to\nmake use of, to rouse, to assimilate into the system the powers which\nshould be active in it, to penetrate completely into the nature of the\nbusiness with the understanding, through exercise to gain confidence\nand expertness in it, to be completely given up to it, to pass out of\nthe man into the part which it is assigned to us to play in War, that\nis the military virtue of an Army in the individual.\n\nHowever much pains may be taken to combine the soldier and the citizen\nin one and the same individual, whatever may be done to nationalise\nWars, and however much we may imagine times have changed since the days\nof the old Condottieri, never will it be possible to do away with the\nindividuality of the business; and if that cannot be done, then those\nwho belong to it, as long as they belong to it, will always look upon\nthemselves as a kind of guild, in the regulations, laws and customs in\nwhich the \u201cSpirit of War\u201d by preference finds its expression. And so it\nis in fact. Even with the most decided inclination to look at War from\nthe highest point of view, it would be very wrong to look down upon\nthis corporate spirit (_esprit de corps_) which may and should exist\nmore or less in every Army. This corporate spirit forms the bond of\nunion between the natural forces which are active in that which we have\ncalled military virtue. The crystals of military virtue have a greater\naffinity for the spirit of a corporate body than for anything else.\n\nAn Army which preserves its usual formations under the heaviest fire,\nwhich is never shaken by imaginary fears, and in the face of real\ndanger disputes the ground inch by inch, which, proud in the feeling of\nits victories, never loses its sense of obedience, its respect for and\nconfidence in its leaders, even under the depressing effects of defeat;\nan Army with all its physical powers, inured to privations and fatigue\nby exercise, like the muscles of an athlete; an Army which looks upon\nall its toils as the means to victory, not as a curse which hovers over\nits standards, and which is always reminded of its duties and virtues\nby the short catechism of one idea, namely the _honour of its\narms;_\u2014Such an Army is imbued with the true military spirit.\n\nSoldiers may fight bravely like the Vend\u00e9ans, and do great things like\nthe Swiss, the Americans, or Spaniards, without displaying this\nmilitary virtue. A Commander may also be successful at the head of\nstanding Armies, like Eugene and Marlborough, without enjoying the\nbenefit of its assistance; we must not, therefore, say that a\nsuccessful War without it cannot be imagined; and we draw especial\nattention to that point, in order the more to individualise the\nconception which is here brought forward, that the idea may not\ndissolve into a generalisation and that it may not be thought that\nmilitary virtue is in the end everything. It is not so. Military virtue\nin an Army is a definite moral power which may be supposed wanting, and\nthe influence of which may therefore be estimated\u2014like any instrument\nthe power of which may be calculated.\n\nHaving thus characterised it, we proceed to consider what can be\npredicated of its influence, and what are the means of gaining its\nassistance.\n\nMilitary virtue is for the parts, what the genius of the Commander is\nfor the whole. The General can only guide the whole, not each separate\npart, and where he cannot guide the part, there military virtue must be\nits leader. A General is chosen by the reputation of his superior\ntalents, the chief leaders of large masses after careful probation; but\nthis probation diminishes as we descend the scale of rank, and in just\nthe same measure we may reckon less and less upon individual talents;\nbut what is wanting in this respect military virtue should supply. The\nnatural qualities of a warlike people play just this part: _bravery,\naptitude, powers of endurance_ and _enthusiasm._\n\nThese properties may therefore supply the place of military virtue, and\n_vice versa_, from which the following may be deduced:\n\n1. Military virtue is a quality of standing Armies only, but they\nrequire it the most. In national risings its place is supplied by\nnatural qualities, which develop themselves there more rapidly.\n\n2. Standing Armies opposed to standing Armies, can more easily dispense\nwith it, than a standing Army opposed to a national insurrection, for\nin that case, the troops are more scattered, and the divisions left\nmore to themselves. But where an Army can be kept concentrated, the\ngenius of the General takes a greater place, and supplies what is\nwanting in the spirit of the Army. Therefore generally military virtue\nbecomes more necessary the more the theatre of operations and other\ncircumstances make the War complicated, and cause the forces to be\nscattered.\n\nFrom these truths the only lesson to be derived is this, that if an\nArmy is deficient in this quality, every endeavour should be made to\nsimplify the operations of the War as much as possible, or to introduce\ndouble efficiency in the organisation of the Army in some other\nrespect, and not to expect from the mere name of a standing Army, that\nwhich only the veritable thing itself can give.\n\nThe military virtue of an Army is, therefore, one of the most important\nmoral powers in War, and where it is wanting, we either see its place\nsupplied by one of the others, such as the great superiority of\ngeneralship or popular enthusiasm, or we find the results not\ncommensurate with the exertions made.\u2014How much that is great, this\nspirit, this sterling worth of an army, this refining of ore into the\npolished metal, has already done, we see in the history of the\nMacedonians under Alexander, the Roman legions under Cesar, the Spanish\ninfantry under Alexander Farnese, the Swedes under Gustavus Adolphus\nand Charles XII, the Prussians under Frederick the Great, and the\nFrench under Buonaparte. We must purposely shut our eyes against all\nhistorical proof, if we do not admit, that the astonishing successes of\nthese Generals and their greatness in situations of extreme difficulty,\nwere only possible with Armies possessing this virtue.\n\nThis spirit can only be generated from two sources, and only by these\ntwo conjointly; the first is a succession of campaigns and great\nvictories; the other is, an activity of the Army carried sometimes to\nthe highest pitch. Only by these, does the soldier learn to know his\npowers. The more a General is in the habit of demanding from his\ntroops, the surer he will be that his demands will be answered. The\nsoldier is as proud of overcoming toil, as he is of surmounting danger.\nTherefore it is only in the soil of incessant activity and exertion\nthat the germ will thrive, but also only in the sunshine of victory.\nOnce it becomes a _strong tree_, it will stand against the fiercest\nstorms of misfortune and defeat, and even against the indolent\ninactivity of peace, at least for a time. It can therefore only be\ncreated in War, and under great Generals, but no doubt it may last at\nleast for several generations, even under Generals of moderate\ncapacity, and through considerable periods of peace.\n\nWith this generous and noble spirit of union in a line of veteran\ntroops, covered with scars and thoroughly inured to War, we must not\ncompare the self-esteem and vanity of a standing Army,(*) held together\nmerely by the glue of service-regulations and a drill book; a certain\nplodding earnestness and strict discipline may keep up military virtue\nfor a long time, but can never create it; these things therefore have a\ncertain value, but must not be over-rated. Order, smartness, good will,\nalso a certain degree of pride and high feeling, are qualities of an\nArmy formed in time of peace which are to be prized, but cannot stand\nalone. The whole retains the whole, and as with glass too quickly\ncooled, a single crack breaks the whole mass. Above all, the highest\nspirit in the world changes only too easily at the first check into\ndepression, and one might say into a kind of rhodomontade of alarm, the\nFrench _sauve que peut_.\u2014Such an Army can only achieve something\nthrough its leader, never by itself. It must be led with double\ncaution, until by degrees, in victory and hardships, the strength grows\ninto the full armour. Beware then of confusing the SPIRIT of an Army\nwith its temper.\n\n(*) Clausewitz is, of course, thinking of the long-service standing\narmies of his own youth. Not of the short-service standing armies of\nto-day (EDITOR).\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Boldness\n\nThe place and part which boldness takes in the dynamic system of\npowers, where it stands opposed to Foresight and prudence, has been\nstated in the chapter on the certainty of the result in order thereby\nto show, that theory has no right to restrict it by virtue of its\nlegislative power.\n\nBut this noble impulse, with which the human soul raises itself above\nthe most formidable dangers, is to be regarded as an active principle\npeculiarly belonging to War. In fact, in what branch of human activity\nshould boldness have a right of citizenship if not in War?\n\nFrom the transport-driver and the drummer up to the General, it is the\nnoblest of virtues, the true steel which gives the weapon its edge and\nbrilliancy.\n\nLet us admit in fact it has in War even its own prerogatives. Over and\nabove the result of the calculation of space, time, and quantity, we\nmust allow a certain percentage which boldness derives from the\nweakness of others, whenever it gains the mastery. It is therefore,\nvirtually, a creative power. This is not difficult to demonstrate\nphilosophically. As often as boldness encounters hesitation, the\nprobability of the result is of necessity in its favour, because the\nvery state of hesitation implies a loss of equilibrium already. It is\nonly when it encounters cautious foresight\u2014which we may say is just as\nbold, at all events just as strong and powerful as itself\u2014that it is at\na disadvantage; such cases, however, rarely occur. Out of the whole\nmultitude of prudent men in the world, the great majority are so from\ntimidity.\n\nAmongst large masses, boldness is a force, the special cultivation of\nwhich can never be to the detriment of other forces, because the great\nmass is bound to a higher will by the frame-work and joints of the\norder of battle and of the service, and therefore is guided by an\nintelligent power which is extraneous. Boldness is therefore here only\nlike a spring held down until its action is required.\n\nThe higher the rank the more necessary it is that boldness should be\naccompanied by a reflective mind, that it may not be a mere blind\noutburst of passion to no purpose; for with increase of rank it becomes\nalways less a matter of self-sacrifice and more a matter of the\npreservation of others, and the good of the whole. Where regulations of\nthe service, as a kind of second nature, prescribe for the masses,\nreflection must be the guide of the General, and in his case individual\nboldness in action may easily become a fault. Still, at the same time,\nit is a fine failing, and must not be looked at in the same light as\nany other. Happy the Army in which an untimely boldness frequently\nmanifests itself; it is an exuberant growth which shows a rich soil.\nEven foolhardiness, that is boldness without an object, is not to be\ndespised; in point of fact it is the same energy of feeling, only\nexercised as a kind of passion without any co-operation of the\nintelligent faculties. It is only when it strikes at the root of\nobedience, when it treats with contempt the orders of superior\nauthority, that it must be repressed as a dangerous evil, not on its\nown account but on account of the act of disobedience, for there is\nnothing _in War_ which is of _greater importance than obedience_.\n\nThe reader will readily agree with us that, supposing an equal degree\nof discernment to be forthcoming in a certain number of cases, a\nthousand times as many of them will end in disaster through\nover-anxiety as through boldness.\n\nOne would suppose it natural that the interposition of a reasonable\nobject should stimulate boldness, and therefore lessen its intrinsic\nmerit, and yet the reverse is the case in reality.\n\nThe intervention of lucid thought or the general supremacy of mind\ndeprives the emotional forces of a great part of their power. On that\naccount _boldness becomes of rarer occurrence the higher we ascend the\nscale of rank_, for whether the discernment and the understanding do or\ndo not increase with these ranks still the Commanders, in their several\nstations as they rise, are pressed upon more and more severely by\nobjective things, by relations and claims from without, so that they\nbecome the more perplexed the lower the degree of their individual\nintelligence. This so far as regards War is the chief foundation of the\ntruth of the French proverb:\u2014\n\n\u201cTel brille au second qui s\u2019\u00e9clipse au premier.\u201d\n\n\nAlmost all the Generals who are represented in history as merely having\nattained to mediocrity, and as wanting in decision when in supreme\ncommand, are men celebrated in their antecedent career for their\nboldness and decision.(*)\n\n(*) Beaulieu, Benedek, Bazaine, Buller, Melas, Mack. &c. &c.\n\n\nIn those motives to bold action which arise from the pressure of\nnecessity we must make a distinction. Necessity has its degrees of\nintensity. If it lies near at hand, if the person acting is in the\npursuit of his object driven into great dangers in order to escape\nothers equally great, then we can only admire his resolution, which\nstill has also its value. If a young man to show his skill in\nhorsemanship leaps across a deep cleft, then he is bold; if he makes\nthe same leap pursued by a troop of head-chopping Janissaries he is\nonly resolute. But the farther off the necessity from the point of\naction, the greater the number of relations intervening which the mind\nhas to traverse; in order to realise them, by so much the less does\nnecessity take from boldness in action. If Frederick the Great, in the\nyear 1756, saw that War was inevitable, and that he could only escape\ndestruction by being beforehand with his enemies, it became necessary\nfor him to commence the War himself, but at the same time it was\ncertainly very bold: for few men in his position would have made up\ntheir minds to do so.\n\nAlthough Strategy is only the province of Generals-in-Chief or\nCommanders in the higher positions, still boldness in all the other\nbranches of an Army is as little a matter of indifference to it as\ntheir other military virtues. With an Army belonging to a bold race,\nand in which the spirit of boldness has been always nourished, very\ndifferent things may be undertaken than with one in which this virtue,\nis unknown; for that reason we have considered it in connection with an\nArmy. But our subject is specially the boldness of the General, and yet\nwe have not much to say about it after having described this military\nvirtue in a general way to the best of our ability.\n\nThe higher we rise in a position of command, the more of the mind,\nunderstanding, and penetration predominate in activity, the more\ntherefore is boldness, which is a property of the feelings, kept in\nsubjection, and for that reason we find it so rarely in the highest\npositions, but then, so much the more should it be admired. Boldness,\ndirected by an overruling intelligence, is the stamp of the hero: this\nboldness does not consist in venturing directly against the nature of\nthings, in a downright contempt of the laws of probability, but, if a\nchoice is once made, in the rigorous adherence to that higher\ncalculation which genius, the tact of judgment, has gone over with the\nspeed of lightning. The more boldness lends wings to the mind and the\ndiscernment, so much the farther they will reach in their flight, so\nmuch the more comprehensive will be the view, the more exact the\nresult, but certainly always only in the sense that with greater\nobjects greater dangers are connected. The ordinary man, not to speak\nof the weak and irresolute, arrives at an exact result so far as such\nis possible without ocular demonstration, at most after diligent\nreflection in his chamber, at a distance from danger and\nresponsibility. Let danger and responsibility draw close round him in\nevery direction, then he loses the power of comprehensive vision, and\nif he retains this in any measure by the influence of others, still he\nwill lose his power of _decision_, because in that point no one can\nhelp him.\n\nWe think then that it is impossible to imagine a distinguished General\nwithout boldness, that is to say, that no man can become one who is not\nborn with this power of the soul, and we therefore look upon it as the\nfirst requisite for such a career. How much of this inborn power,\ndeveloped and moderated through education and the circumstances of\nlife, is left when the man has attained a high position, is the second\nquestion. The greater this power still is, the stronger will genius be\non the wing, the higher will be its flight. The risks become always\ngreater, but the purpose grows with them. Whether its lines proceed out\nof and get their direction from a distant necessity, or whether they\nconverge to the keystone of a building which ambition has planned,\nwhether Frederick or Alexander acts, is much the same as regards the\ncritical view. If the one excites the imagination more because it is\nbolder, the other pleases the understanding most, because it has in it\nmore absolute necessity.\n\nWe have still to advert to one very important circumstance.\n\nThe spirit of boldness can exist in an Army, either because it is in\nthe people, or because it has been generated in a successful War\nconducted by able Generals. In the latter case it must of course be\ndispensed with at the commencement.\n\nNow in our days there is hardly any other means of educating the spirit\nof a people in this respect, except by War, and that too under bold\nGenerals. By it alone can that effeminacy of feeling be counteracted,\nthat propensity to seek for the enjoyment of comfort, which cause\ndegeneracy in a people rising in prosperity and immersed in an\nextremely busy commerce.\n\nA Nation can hope to have a strong position in the political world only\nif its character and practice in actual War mutually support each other\nin constant reciprocal action.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Perseverance\n\nThe reader expects to hear of angles and lines, and finds, instead of\nthese citizens of the scientific world, only people out of common life,\nsuch as he meets with every day in the street. And yet the author\ncannot make up his mind to become a hair\u2019s breadth more mathematical\nthan the subject seems to him to require, and he is not alarmed at the\nsurprise which the reader may show.\n\nIn War more than anywhere else in the world things happen differently\nto what we had expected, and look differently when near, to what they\ndid at a distance. With what serenity the architect can watch his work\ngradually rising and growing into his plan. The doctor although much\nmore at the mercy of mysterious agencies and chances than the\narchitect, still knows enough of the forms and effects of his means. In\nWar, on the other hand, the Commander of an immense whole finds himself\nin a constant whirlpool of false and true information, of mistakes\ncommitted through fear, through negligence, through precipitation, of\ncontraventions of his authority, either from mistaken or correct\nmotives, from ill will, true or false sense of duty, indolence or\nexhaustion, of accidents which no mortal could have foreseen. In short,\nhe is the victim of a hundred thousand impressions, of which the most\nhave an intimidating, the fewest an encouraging tendency. By long\nexperience in War, the tact is acquired of readily appreciating the\nvalue of these incidents; high courage and stability of character stand\nproof against them, as the rock resists the beating of the waves. He\nwho would yield to these impressions would never carry out an\nundertaking, and on that account _perseverance_ in the proposed object,\nas long as there is no decided reason against it, is a most necessary\ncounterpoise. Further, there is hardly any celebrated enterprise in War\nwhich was not achieved by endless exertion, pains, and privations; and\nas here the weakness of the physical and moral man is ever disposed to\nyield, only an immense force of will, which manifests itself in\nperseverance admired by present and future generations, can conduct to\nour goal.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Superiority of Numbers\n\nThis is in tactics, as well as in Strategy, the most general principle\nof victory, and shall be examined by us first in its generality, for\nwhich we may be permitted the following exposition:\n\nStrategy fixes the point where, the time when, and the numerical force\nwith which the battle is to be fought. By this triple determination it\nhas therefore a very essential influence on the issue of the combat. If\ntactics has fought the battle, if the result is over, let it be victory\nor defeat, Strategy makes such use of it as can be made in accordance\nwith the great object of the War. This object is naturally often a very\ndistant one, seldom does it lie quite close at hand. A series of other\nobjects subordinate themselves to it as means. These objects, which are\nat the same time means to a higher purpose, may be practically of\nvarious kinds; even the ultimate aim of the whole War may be a\ndifferent one in every case. We shall make ourselves acquainted with\nthese things according as we come to know the separate objects which\nthey come, in contact with; and it is not our intention here to embrace\nthe whole subject by a complete enumeration of them, even if that were\npossible. We therefore let the employment of the battle stand over for\nthe present.\n\nEven those things through which Strategy has an influence on the issue\nof the combat, inasmuch as it establishes the same, to a certain extent\ndecrees them, are not so simple that they can be embraced in one single\nview. For as Strategy appoints time, place and force, it can do so in\npractice in many ways, each of which influences in a different manner\nthe result of the combat as well as its consequences. Therefore we\nshall only get acquainted with this also by degrees, that is, through\nthe subjects which more closely determine the application.\n\nIf we strip the combat of all modifications which it may undergo\naccording to its immediate purpose and the circumstances from which it\nproceeds, lastly if we set aside the valour of the troops, because that\nis a given quantity, then there remains only the bare conception of the\ncombat, that is a combat without form, in which we distinguish nothing\nbut the number of the combatants.\n\nThis number will therefore determine victory. Now from the number of\nthings above deducted to get to this point, it is shown that the\nsuperiority in numbers in a battle is only one of the factors employed\nto produce victory that therefore so far from having with the\nsuperiority in number obtained all, or even only the principal thing,\nwe have perhaps got very little by it, according as the other\ncircumstances which co-operate happen to vary.\n\nBut this superiority has degrees, it may be imagined as twofold,\nthreefold or fourfold, and every one sees, that by increasing in this\nway, it must (at last) overpower everything else.\n\nIn such an aspect we grant, that the superiority in numbers is the most\nimportant factor in the result of a combat, only it must be\nsufficiently great to be a counterpoise to all the other co-operating\ncircumstances. The direct result of this is, that the greatest possible\nnumber of troops should be brought into action at the decisive point.\n\nWhether the troops thus brought are sufficient or not, we have then\ndone in this respect all that our means allowed. This is the first\nprinciple in Strategy, therefore in general as now stated, it is just\nas well suited for Greeks and Persians, or for Englishmen and\nMahrattas, as for French and Germans. But we shall take a glance at our\nrelations in Europe, as respects War, in order to arrive at some more\ndefinite idea on this subject.\n\nHere we find Armies much more alike in equipment, organisation, and\npractical skill of every kind. There only remains a difference in the\nmilitary virtue of Armies, and in the talent of Generals which may\nfluctuate with time from side to side. If we go through the military\nhistory of modern Europe, we find no example of a Marathon.\n\nFrederick the Great beat 80,000 Austrians at Leuthen with about 30,000\nmen, and at Rosbach with 25,000 some 50,000 allies; these are however\nthe only instances of victories gained against an enemy double, or more\nthan double in numbers. Charles XII, in the battle of Narva, we cannot\nwell quote, for the Russians were at that time hardly to be regarded as\nEuropeans, also the principal circumstances, even of the battle, are\ntoo little known. Buonaparte had at Dresden 120,000 against 220,000,\ntherefore not the double. At Kollin, Frederick the Great did not\nsucceed, with 30,000 against 50,000 Austrians, neither did Buonaparte\nin the desperate battle of Leipsic, where he was 160,000 strong,\nagainst 280,000.\n\nFrom this we may infer, that it is very difficult in the present state\nof Europe, for the most talented General to gain a victory over an\nenemy double his strength. Now if we see double numbers prove such a\nweight in the scale against the greatest Generals, we may be sure, that\nin ordinary cases, in small as well as great combats, an important\nsuperiority of numbers, but which need not be over two to one, will be\nsufficient to ensure the victory, however disadvantageous other\ncircumstances may be. Certainly, we may imagine a defile which even\ntenfold would not suffice to force, but in such a case it can be no\nquestion of a battle at all.\n\nWe think, therefore, that under our conditions, as well as in all\nsimilar ones, the superiority at the decisive point is a matter of\ncapital importance, and that this subject, in the generality of cases,\nis decidedly the most important of all. The strength at the decisive\npoint depends on the absolute strength of the Army, and on skill in\nmaking use of it.\n\nThe first rule is therefore to enter the field with an Army as strong\nas possible. This sounds very like a commonplace, but still it is\nreally not so.\n\nIn order to show that for a long time the strength of forces was by no\nmeans regarded as a chief point, we need only observe, that in most,\nand even in the most detailed histories of the Wars in the eighteenth\ncentury, the strength of the Armies is either not given at all, or only\nincidentally, and in no case is any special value laid upon it.\nTempelhof in his history of the Seven Years\u2019 War is the earliest writer\nwho gives it regularly, but at the same time he does it only very\nsuperficially.\n\nEven Massenbach, in his manifold critical observations on the Prussian\ncampaigns of 1793-94 in the Vosges, talks a great deal about hills and\nvalleys, roads and footpaths, but does not say a syllable about mutual\nstrength.\n\nAnother proof lies in a wonderful notion which haunted the heads of\nmany critical historians, according to which there was a certain size\nof an Army which was the best, a normal strength, beyond which the\nforces in excess were burdensome rather than serviceable.(*)\n\n(*) Tempelhof and Montalembert are the first we recollect as\nexamples\u2014the first in a passage of his first part, page 148; the other\nin his correspondence relative to the plan of operations of the\nRussians in 1759.\n\n\nLastly, there are a number of instances to be found, in which all the\navailable forces were not really brought into the battle,(*) or into\nthe War, because the superiority of numbers was not considered to have\nthat importance which in the nature of things belongs to it.\n\n(*) The Prussians at Jena, 1806. Wellington at Waterloo.\n\n\nIf we are thoroughly penetrated with the conviction that with a\nconsiderable superiority of numbers everything possible is to be\neffected, then it cannot fail that this clear conviction reacts on the\npreparations for the War, so as to make us appear in the field with as\nmany troops as possible, and either to give us ourselves the\nsuperiority, or at least to guard against the enemy obtaining it. So\nmuch for what concerns the absolute force with which the War is to be\nconducted.\n\nThe measure of this absolute force is determined by the Government; and\nalthough with this determination the real action of War commences, and\nit forms an essential part of the Strategy of the War, still in most\ncases the General who is to command these forces in the War must regard\ntheir absolute strength as a given quantity, whether it be that he has\nhad no voice in fixing it, or that circumstances prevented a sufficient\nexpansion being given to it.\n\nThere remains nothing, therefore, where an absolute superiority is not\nattainable, but to produce a relative one at the decisive point, by\nmaking skilful use of what we have.\n\nThe calculation of space and time appears as the most essential thing\nto this end\u2014and this has caused that subject to be regarded as one\nwhich embraces nearly the whole art of using military forces. Indeed,\nsome have gone so far as to ascribe to great strategists and tacticians\na mental organ peculiarly adapted to this point.\n\nBut the calculation of time and space, although it lies universally at\nthe foundation of Strategy, and is to a certain extent its daily bread,\nis still neither the most difficult, nor the most decisive one.\n\nIf we take an unprejudiced glance at military history, we shall find\nthat the instances in which mistakes in such a calculation have proved\nthe cause of serious losses are very rare, at least in Strategy. But if\nthe conception of a skilful combination of time and space is fully to\naccount for every instance of a resolute and active Commander beating\nseveral separate opponents with one and the same army (Frederick the\nGreat, Buonaparte), then we perplex ourselves unnecessarily with\nconventional language. For the sake of clearness and the profitable use\nof conceptions, it is necessary that things should always be called by\ntheir right names.\n\nThe right appreciation of their opponents (Daun, Schwartzenberg), the\naudacity to leave for a short space of time a small force only before\nthem, energy in forced marches, boldness in sudden attacks, the\nintensified activity which great souls acquire in the moment of danger,\nthese are the grounds of such victories; and what have these to do with\nthe ability to make an exact calculation of two such simple things as\ntime and space?\n\nBut even this ricochetting play of forces, \u201cwhen the victories at\nRosbach and Montmirail give the impulse to victories at Leuthen and\nMontereau,\u201d to which great Generals on the defensive have often\ntrusted, is still, if we would be clear and exact, only a rare\noccurrence in history.\n\nMuch more frequently the relative superiority\u2014that is, the skilful\nassemblage of superior forces at the decisive point\u2014has its foundation\nin the right appreciation of those points, in the judicious direction\nwhich by that means has been given to the forces from the very first,\nand in the resolution required to sacrifice the unimportant to the\nadvantage of the important\u2014that is, to keep the forces concentrated in\nan overpowering mass. In this, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte are\nparticularly characteristic.\n\nWe think we have now allotted to the superiority in numbers the\nimportance which belongs to it; it is to be regarded as the fundamental\nidea, always to be aimed at before all and as far as possible.\n\nBut to regard it on this account as a necessary condition of victory\nwould be a complete misconception of our exposition; in the conclusion\nto be drawn from it there lies nothing more than the value which should\nattach to numerical strength in the combat. If that strength is made as\ngreat as possible, then the maxim is satisfied; a review of the total\nrelations must then decide whether or not the combat is to be avoided\nfor want of sufficient force.(*)\n\n(*) Owing to our freedom from invasion, and to the condition which\narise in our Colonial Wars, we have not yet, in England, arrived at a\ncorrect appreciation of the value of superior numbers in War, and still\nadhere to the idea of an Army just \u201cbig enough,\u201d which Clausewitz has\nso unsparingly ridiculed. (EDITOR.)\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. The Surprise\n\nFrom the subject of the foregoing chapter, the general endeavour to\nattain a relative superiority, there follows another endeavour which\nmust consequently be just as general in its nature: this is the\n_surprise_ of the enemy. It lies more or less at the foundation of all\nundertakings, for without it the preponderance at the decisive point is\nnot properly conceivable.\n\nThe surprise is, therefore, not only the means to the attainment of\nnumerical superiority; but it is also to be regarded as a substantive\nprinciple in itself, on account of its moral effect. When it is\nsuccessful in a high degree, confusion and broken courage in the\nenemy\u2019s ranks are the consequences; and of the degree to which these\nmultiply a success, there are examples enough, great and small. We are\nnot now speaking of the particular surprise which belongs to the\nattack, but of the endeavour by measures generally, and especially by\nthe distribution of forces, to surprise the enemy, which can be\nimagined just as well in the defensive, and which in the tactical\ndefence particularly is a chief point.\n\nWe say, surprise lies at the foundation of all undertakings without\nexception, only in very different degrees according to the nature of\nthe undertaking and other circumstances.\n\nThis difference, indeed, originates in the properties or peculiarities\nof the Army and its Commander, in those even of the Government.\n\nSecrecy and rapidity are the two factors in this product and these\nsuppose in the Government and the Commander-in-Chief great energy, and\non the part of the Army a high sense of military duty. With effeminacy\nand loose principles it is in vain to calculate upon a surprise. But so\ngeneral, indeed so indispensable, as is this endeavour, and true as it\nis that it is never wholly unproductive of effect, still it is not the\nless true that it seldom succeeds to a _remarkable_ degree, and this\nfollows from the nature of the idea itself. We should form an erroneous\nconception if we believed that by this means chiefly there is much to\nbe attained in War. In idea it promises a great deal; in the execution\nit generally sticks fast by the friction of the whole machine.\n\nIn tactics the surprise is much more at home, for the very natural\nreason that all times and spaces are on a smaller scale. It will,\ntherefore, in Strategy be the more feasible in proportion as the\nmeasures lie nearer to the province of tactics, and more difficult the\nhigher up they lie towards the province of policy.\n\nThe preparations for a War usually occupy several months; the assembly\nof an Army at its principal positions requires generally the formation\nof dep\u00f4ts and magazines, and long marches, the object of which can be\nguessed soon enough.\n\nIt therefore rarely happens that one State surprises another by a War,\nor by the direction which it gives the mass of its forces. In the\nseventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when War turned very much upon\nsieges, it was a frequent aim, and quite a peculiar and important\nchapter in the Art of War, to invest a strong place unexpectedly, but\neven that only rarely succeeded.(*)\n\n(*) Railways, steamships, and telegraphs have, however, enormously\nmodified the relative importance and practicability of surprise.\n(EDITOR.)\n\n\nOn the other hand, with things which can be done in a day or two, a\nsurprise is much more conceivable, and, therefore, also it is often not\ndifficult thus to gain a march upon the enemy, and thereby a position,\na point of country, a road, &c. But it is evident that what surprise\ngains in this way in easy execution, it loses in the efficacy, as the\ngreater the efficacy the greater always the difficulty of execution.\nWhoever thinks that with such surprises on a small scale, he may\nconnect great results\u2014as, for example, the gain of a battle, the\ncapture of an important magazine\u2014believes in something which it is\ncertainly very possible to imagine, but for which there is no warrant\nin history; for there are upon the whole very few instances where\nanything great has resulted from such surprises; from which we may\njustly conclude that inherent difficulties lie in the way of their\nsuccess.\n\nCertainly, whoever would consult history on such points must not depend\non sundry battle steeds of historical critics, on their wise dicta and\nself-complacent terminology, but look at facts with his own eyes. There\nis, for instance, a certain day in the campaign in Silesia, 1761,\nwhich, in this respect, has attained a kind of notoriety. It is the\n22nd July, on which Frederick the Great gained on Laudon the march to\nNossen, near Neisse, by which, as is said, the junction of the Austrian\nand Russian armies in Upper Silesia became impossible, and, therefore,\na period of four weeks was gained by the King. Whoever reads over this\noccurrence carefully in the principal histories,(*) and considers it\nimpartially, will, in the march of the 22nd July, never find this\nimportance; and generally in the whole of the fashionable logic on this\nsubject, he will see nothing but contradictions; but in the proceedings\nof Laudon, in this renowned period of man\u0153uvres, much that is\nunaccountable. How could one, with a thirst for truth, and clear\nconviction, accept such historical evidence?\n\n(*) Tempelhof, The Veteran, Frederick the Great. Compare also\n(Clausewitz) \u201c_Hinterlassene Werke_,\u201d vol. x., p. 158.\n\n\nWhen we promise ourselves great effects in a campaign from the\nprinciple of surprising, we think upon great activity, rapid\nresolutions, and forced marches, as the means of producing them; but\nthat these things, even when forthcoming in a very high degree, will\nnot always produce the desired effect, we see in examples given by\nGenerals, who may be allowed to have had the greatest talent in the use\nof these means, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte. The first when he\nleft Dresden so suddenly in July 1760, and falling upon Lascy, then\nturned against Dresden, gained nothing by the whole of that intermezzo,\nbut rather placed his affairs in a condition notably worse, as the\nfortress Glatz fell in the meantime.\n\nIn 1813, Buonaparte turned suddenly from Dresden twice against Bl\u00fccher,\nto say nothing of his incursion into Bohemia from Upper Lusatia, and\nboth times without in the least attaining his object. They were blows\nin the air which only cost him time and force, and might have placed\nhim in a dangerous position in Dresden.\n\nTherefore, even in this field, a surprise does not necessarily meet\nwith great success through the mere activity, energy, and resolution of\nthe Commander; it must be favoured by other circumstances. But we by no\nmeans deny that there can be success; we only connect with it a\nnecessity of favourable circumstances, which, certainly do not occur\nvery frequently, and which the Commander can seldom bring about\nhimself.\n\nJust those two Generals afford each a striking illustration of this. We\ntake first Buonaparte in his famous enterprise against Bl\u00fccher\u2019s Army\nin February 1814, when it was separated from the Grand Army, and\ndescending the Marne. It would not be easy to find a two days\u2019 march to\nsurprise the enemy productive of greater results than this; Bl\u00fccher\u2019s\nArmy, extended over a distance of three days\u2019 march, was beaten in\ndetail, and suffered a loss nearly equal to that of defeat in a great\nbattle. This was completely the effect of a surprise, for if Bl\u00fccher\nhad thought of such a near possibility of an attack from Buonaparte(*)\nhe would have organised his march quite differently. To this mistake of\nBl\u00fccher\u2019s the result is to be attributed. Buonaparte did not know all\nthese circumstances, and so there was a piece of good fortune that\nmixed itself up in his favour.\n\n(*) Bl\u00fccher believed his march to be covered by Pahlen\u2019s Cossacks, but\nthese had been withdrawn without warning to him by the Grand Army\nHeadquarters under Schwartzenberg.\n\n\nIt is the same with the battle of Liegnitz, 1760. Frederick the Great\ngained this fine victory through altering during the night a position\nwhich he had just before taken up. Laudon was through this completely\nsurprised, and lost 70 pieces of artillery and 10,000 men. Although\nFrederick the Great had at this time adopted the principle of moving\nbackwards and forwards in order to make a battle impossible, or at\nleast to disconcert the enemy\u2019s plans, still the alteration of position\non the night of the 14-15 was not made exactly with that intention, but\nas the King himself says, because the position of the 14th did not\nplease him. Here, therefore, also chance was hard at work; without this\nhappy conjunction of the attack and the change of position in the\nnight, and the difficult nature of the country, the result would not\nhave been the same.\n\nAlso in the higher and highest province of Strategy there are some\ninstances of surprises fruitful in results. We shall only cite the\nbrilliant marches of the Great Elector against the Swedes from\nFranconia to Pomerania and from the Mark (Brandenburg) to the Pregel in\n1757, and the celebrated passage of the Alps by Buonaparte, 1800. In\nthe latter case an Army gave up its whole theatre of war by a\ncapitulation, and in 1757 another Army was very near giving up its\ntheatre of war and itself as well. Lastly, as an instance of a War\nwholly unexpected, we may bring forward the invasion of Silesia by\nFrederick the Great. Great and powerful are here the results\neverywhere, but such events are not common in history if we do not\nconfuse with them cases in which a State, for want of activity and\nenergy (Saxony 1756, and Russia, 1812), has not completed its\npreparations in time.\n\nNow there still remains an observation which concerns the essence of\nthe thing. A surprise can only be effected by that party which gives\nthe law to the other; and he who is in the right gives the law. If we\nsurprise the adversary by a wrong measure, then instead of reaping good\nresults, we may have to bear a sound blow in return; in any case the\nadversary need not trouble himself much about our surprise, he has in\nour mistake the means of turning off the evil. As the offensive\nincludes in itself much more positive action than the defensive, so the\nsurprise is certainly more in its place with the assailant, but by no\nmeans invariably, as we shall hereafter see. Mutual surprises by the\noffensive and defensive may therefore meet, and then that one will have\nthe advantage who has hit the nail on the head the best.\n\nSo should it be, but practical life does not keep to this line so\nexactly, and that for a very simple reason. The moral effects which\nattend a surprise often convert the worst case into a good one for the\nside they favour, and do not allow the other to make any regular\ndetermination. We have here in view more than anywhere else not only\nthe chief Commander, but each single one, because a surprise has the\neffect in particular of greatly loosening unity, so that the\nindividuality of each separate leader easily comes to light.\n\nMuch depends here on the general relation in which the two parties\nstand to each other. If the one side through a general moral\nsuperiority can intimidate and outdo the other, then he can make use of\nthe surprise with more success, and even reap good fruit where properly\nhe should come to ruin.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Stratagem\n\nStratagem implies a concealed intention, and therefore is opposed to\nstraightforward dealing, in the same way as wit is the opposite of\ndirect proof. It has therefore nothing in common with means of\npersuasion, of self-interest, of force, but a great deal to do with\ndeceit, because that likewise conceals its object. It is itself a\ndeceit as well when it is done, but still it differs from what is\ncommonly called deceit, in this respect that there is no direct breach\nof word. The deceiver by stratagem leaves it to the person himself whom\nhe is deceiving to commit the errors of understanding which at last,\nflowing into _one_ result, suddenly change the nature of things in his\neyes. We may therefore say, as nit is a sleight of hand with ideas and\nconceptions, so stratagem is a sleight of hand with actions.\n\nAt first sight it appears as if Strategy had not improperly derived its\nname from stratagem; and that, with all the real and apparent changes\nwhich the whole character of War has undergone since the time of the\nGreeks, this term still points to its real nature.\n\nIf we leave to tactics the actual delivery of the blow, the battle\nitself, and look upon Strategy as the art of using this means with\nskill, then besides the forces of the character, such as burning\nambition which always presses like a spring, a strong will which hardly\nbends &c. &c., there seems no subjective quality so suited to guide and\ninspire strategic activity as stratagem. The general tendency to\nsurprise, treated of in the foregoing chapter, points to this\nconclusion, for there is a degree of stratagem, be it ever so small,\nwhich lies at the foundation of every attempt to surprise.\n\nBut however much we feel a desire to see the actors in War outdo each\nother in hidden activity, readiness, and stratagem, still we must admit\nthat these qualities show themselves but little in history, and have\nrarely been able to work their way to the surface from amongst the mass\nof relations and circumstances.\n\nThe explanation of this is obvious, and it is almost identical with the\nsubject matter of the preceding chapter.\n\nStrategy knows no other activity than the regulating of combat with the\nmeasures which relate to it. It has no concern, like ordinary life,\nwith transactions which consist merely of words\u2014that is, in\nexpressions, declarations, &c. But these, which are very inexpensive,\nare chiefly the means with which the wily one takes in those he\npractises upon.\n\nThat which there is like it in War, plans and orders given merely as\nmake-believers, false reports sent on purpose to the enemy\u2014is usually\nof so little effect in the strategic field that it is only resorted to\nin particular cases which offer of themselves, therefore cannot be\nregarded as spontaneous action which emanates from the leader.\n\nBut such measures as carrying out the arrangements for a battle, so far\nas to impose upon the enemy, require a considerable expenditure of time\nand power; of course, the greater the impression to be made, the\ngreater the expenditure in these respects. And as this is usually not\ngiven for the purpose, very few demonstrations, so-called, in Strategy,\neffect the object for which they are designed. In fact, it is dangerous\nto detach large forces for any length of time merely for a trick,\nbecause there is always the risk of its being done in vain, and then\nthese forces are wanted at the decisive point.\n\nThe chief actor in War is always thoroughly sensible of this sober\ntruth, and therefore he has no desire to play at tricks of agility. The\nbitter earnestness of necessity presses so fully into direct action\nthat there is no room for that game. In a word, the pieces on the\nstrategical chess-board want that mobility which is the element of\nstratagem and subtility.\n\nThe conclusion which we draw, is that a correct and penetrating eye is\na more necessary and more useful quality for a General than craftiness,\nalthough that also does no harm if it does not exist at the expense of\nnecessary qualities of the heart, which is only too often the case.\n\nBut the weaker the forces become which are under the command of\nStrategy, so much the more they become adapted for stratagem, so that\nto the quite feeble and little, for whom no prudence, no sagacity is\nany longer sufficient at the point where all art seems to forsake him,\nstratagem offers itself as a last resource. The more helpless his\nsituation, the more everything presses towards one single, desperate\nblow, the more readily stratagem comes to the aid of his boldness. Let\nloose from all further calculations, freed from all concern for the\nfuture, boldness and stratagem intensify each other, and thus collect\nat one point an infinitesimal glimmering of hope into a single ray,\nwhich may likewise serve to kindle a flame.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. Assembly of Forces in Space\n\nThe best Strategy is _always to be very strong_, first generally then\nat the decisive point. Therefore, apart from the energy which creates\nthe Army, a work which is not always done by the General, there is no\nmore imperative and no simpler law for Strategy than to _keep the\nforces concentrated_.\u2014No portion is to be separated from the main body\nunless called away by some urgent necessity. On this maxim we stand\nfirm, and look upon it as a guide to be depended upon. What are the\nreasonable grounds on which a detachment of forces may be made we shall\nlearn by degrees. Then we shall also see that this principle cannot\nhave the same general effects in every War, but that these are\ndifferent according to the means and end.\n\nIt seems incredible, and yet it has happened a hundred times, that\ntroops have been divided and separated merely through a mysterious\nfeeling of conventional manner, without any clear perception of the\nreason.\n\nIf the concentration of the whole force is acknowledged as the norm,\nand every division and separation as an exception which must be\njustified, then not only will that folly be completely avoided, but\nalso many an erroneous ground for separating troops will be barred\nadmission.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Assembly of Forces in Time\n\nWe have here to deal with a conception which in real life diffuses many\nkinds of illusory light. A clear definition and development of the idea\nis therefore necessary, and we hope to be allowed a short analysis.\n\nWar is the shock of two opposing forces in collision with each other,\nfrom which it follows as a matter of course that the stronger not only\ndestroys the other, but carries it forward with it in its movement.\nThis fundamentally admits of no successive action of powers, but makes\nthe simultaneous application of all forces intended for the shock\nappear as a primordial law of War.\n\nSo it is in reality, but only so far as the struggle resembles also in\npractice a mechanical shock, but when it consists in a lasting, mutual\naction of destructive forces, then we can certainly imagine a\nsuccessive action of forces. This is the case in tactics, principally\nbecause firearms form the basis of all tactics, but also for other\nreasons as well. If in a fire combat 1000 men are opposed to 500, then\nthe gross loss is calculated from the amount of the enemy\u2019s force and\nour own; 1000 men fire twice as many shots as 500, but more shots will\ntake effect on the 1000 than on the 500 because it is assumed that they\nstand in closer order than the other. If we were to suppose the number\nof hits to be double, then the losses on each side would be equal. From\nthe 500 there would be for example 200 disabled, and out of the body of\n1000 likewise the same; now if the 500 had kept another body of equal\nnumber quite out of fire, then both sides would have 800 effective men;\nbut of these, on the one side there would be 500 men quite fresh, fully\nsupplied with ammunition, and in their full vigour; on the other side\nonly 800 all alike shaken in their order, in want of sufficient\nammunition and weakened in physical force. The assumption that the 1000\nmen merely on account of their greater number would lose twice as many\nas 500 would have lost in their place, is certainly not correct;\ntherefore the greater loss which the side suffers that has placed the\nhalf of its force in reserve, must be regarded as a disadvantage in\nthat original formation; further it must be admitted, that in the\ngenerality of cases the 1000 men would have the advantage at the first\ncommencement of being able to drive their opponent out of his position\nand force him to a retrograde movement; now, whether these two\nadvantages are a counterpoise to the disadvantage of finding ourselves\nwith 800 men to a certain extent disorganised by the combat, opposed to\nan enemy who is not materially weaker in numbers and who has 500 quite\nfresh troops, is one that cannot be decided by pursuing an analysis\nfurther, we must here rely upon experience, and there will scarcely be\nan officer experienced in War who will not in the generality of cases\nassign the advantage to that side which has the fresh troops.\n\nIn this way it becomes evident how the employment of too many forces in\ncombat may be disadvantageous; for whatever advantages the superiority\nmay give in the first moment, we may have to pay dearly for in the\nnext.\n\nBut this danger only endures as long as the disorder, the state of\nconfusion and weakness lasts, in a word, up to the crisis which every\ncombat brings with it even for the conqueror. Within the duration of\nthis relaxed state of exhaustion, the appearance of a proportionate\nnumber of fresh troops is decisive.\n\nBut when this disordering effect of victory stops, and therefore only\nthe moral superiority remains which every victory gives, then it is no\nlonger possible for fresh troops to restore the combat, they would only\nbe carried along in the general movement; a beaten Army cannot be\nbrought back to victory a day after by means of a strong reserve. Here\nwe find ourselves at the source of a highly material difference between\ntactics and strategy.\n\nThe tactical results, the results within the four corners of the\nbattle, and before its close, lie for the most part within the limits\nof that period of disorder and weakness. But the strategic result, that\nis to say, the result of the total combat, of the victories realised,\nlet them be small or great, lies completely (beyond) outside of that\nperiod. It is only when the results of partial combats have bound\nthemselves together into an independent whole, that the strategic\nresult appears, but then, the state of crisis is over, the forces have\nresumed their original form, and are now only weakened to the extent of\nthose actually destroyed (placed _hors de combat_).\n\nThe consequence of this difference is, that tactics can make a\ncontinued use of forces, Strategy only a simultaneous one.(*)\n\n(*) See chaps. xiii., and xiv., Book III and chap. xxix. Book V.\u2014TR.\n\n\nIf I cannot, in tactics, decide all by the first success, if I have to\nfear the next moment, it follows of itself that I employ only so much\nof my force for the success of the first moment as appears sufficient\nfor that object, and keep the rest beyond the reach of fire or conflict\nof any kind, in order to be able to oppose fresh troops to fresh, or\nwith such to overcome those that are exhausted. But it is not so in\nStrategy. Partly, as we have just shown, it has not so much reason to\nfear a reaction after a success realised, because with that success the\ncrisis stops; partly all the forces strategically employed are not\nnecessarily weakened. Only so much of them as have been tactically in\nconflict with the enemy\u2019s force, that is, engaged in partial combat,\nare weakened by it; consequently, only so much as was unavoidably\nnecessary, but by no means all which was strategically in conflict with\nthe enemy, unless tactics has expended them unnecessarily. Corps which,\non account of the general superiority in numbers, have either been\nlittle or not at all engaged, whose presence alone has assisted in the\nresult, are after the decision the same as they were before, and for\nnew enterprises as efficient as if they had been entirely inactive. How\ngreatly such corps which thus constitute our excess may contribute to\nthe total success is evident in itself; indeed, it is not difficult to\nsee how they may even diminish considerably the loss of the forces\nengaged in tactical, conflict on our side.\n\nIf, therefore, in Strategy the loss does not increase with the number\nof the troops employed, but is often diminished by it, and if, as a\nnatural consequence, the decision in our favor is, by that means, the\nmore certain, then it follows naturally that in Strategy we can never\nemploy too many forces, and consequently also that they must be applied\nsimultaneously to the immediate purpose.\n\nBut we must vindicate this proposition upon another ground. We have\nhitherto only spoken of the combat itself; it is the real activity in\nWar, but men, time, and space, which appear as the elements of this\nactivity, must, at the same time, be kept in view, and the results of\ntheir influence brought into consideration also.\n\nFatigue, exertion, and privation constitute in War a special principle\nof destruction, not essentially belonging to contest, but more or less\ninseparably bound up with it, and certainly one which especially\nbelongs to Strategy. They no doubt exist in tactics as well, and\nperhaps there in the highest degree; but as the duration of the\ntactical acts is shorter, therefore the small effects of exertion and\nprivation on them can come but little into consideration. But in\nStrategy on the other hand, where time and space, are on a larger\nscale, their influence is not only always very considerable, but often\nquite decisive. It is not at all uncommon for a victorious Army to lose\nmany more by sickness than on the field of battle.\n\nIf, therefore, we look at this sphere of destruction in Strategy in the\nsame manner as we have considered that of fire and close combat in\ntactics, then we may well imagine that everything which comes within\nits vortex will, at the end of the campaign or of any other strategic\nperiod, be reduced to a state of weakness, which makes the arrival of a\nfresh force decisive. We might therefore conclude that there is a\nmotive in the one case as well as the other to strive for the first\nsuccess with as few forces as possible, in order to keep up this fresh\nforce for the last.\n\nIn order to estimate exactly this conclusion, which, in many cases in\npractice, will have a great appearance of truth, we must direct our\nattention to the separate ideas which it contains. In the first place,\nwe must not confuse the notion of reinforcement with that of fresh\nunused troops. There are few campaigns at the end of which an increase\nof force is not earnestly desired by the conqueror as well as the\nconquered, and indeed should appear decisive; but that is not the point\nhere, for that increase of force could not be necessary if the force\nhad been so much larger at the first. But it would be contrary to all\nexperience to suppose that an Army coming fresh into the field is to be\nesteemed higher in point of moral value than an Army already in the\nfield, just as a tactical reserve is more to be esteemed than a body of\ntroops which has been already severely handled in the fight. Just as\nmuch as an unfortunate campaign lowers the courage and moral powers of\nan Army, a successful one raises these elements in their value. In the\ngenerality of cases, therefore, these influences are compensated, and\nthen there remains over and above as clear gain the habituation to War.\nWe should besides look more here to successful than to unsuccessful\ncampaigns, because when the greater probability of the latter may be\nseen beforehand, without doubt forces are wanted, and, therefore, the\nreserving a portion for future use is out of the question.\n\nThis point being settled, then the question is, Do the losses which a\nforce sustains through fatigues and privations increase in proportion\nto the size of the force, as is the case in a combat? And to that we\nanswer \u201cNo.\u201d\n\nThe fatigues of War result in a great measure from the dangers with\nwhich every moment of the act of War is more or less impregnated. To\nencounter these dangers at all points, to proceed onwards with security\nin the execution of one\u2019s plans, gives employment to a multitude of\nagencies which make up the tactical and strategic service of the Army.\nThis service is more difficult the weaker an Army is, and easier as its\nnumerical superiority over that of the enemy increases. Who can doubt\nthis? A campaign against a much weaker enemy will therefore cost\nsmaller efforts than against one just as strong or stronger.\n\nSo much for the fatigues. It is somewhat different with the privations;\nthey consist chiefly of two things, the want of food, and the want of\nshelter for the troops, either in quarters or in suitable camps. Both\nthese wants will no doubt be greater in proportion as the number of men\non one spot is greater. But does not the superiority in force afford\nalso the best means of spreading out and finding more room, and\ntherefore more means of subsistence and shelter?\n\nIf Buonaparte, in his invasion of Russia in 1812, concentrated his Army\nin great masses upon one single road in a manner never heard of before,\nand thus caused privations equally unparalleled, we must ascribe it to\nhis maxim _that it is impossible to be too strong at the decisive\npoint_. Whether in this instance he did not strain the principle too\nfar is a question which would be out of place here; but it is certain\nthat, if he had made a point of avoiding the distress which was by that\nmeans brought about, he had only to advance on a greater breadth of\nfront. Room was not wanted for the purpose in Russia, and in very few\ncases can it be wanted. Therefore, from this no ground can be deduced\nto prove that the simultaneous employment of very superior forces must\nproduce greater weakening. But now, supposing that in spite of the\ngeneral relief afforded by setting apart a portion of the Army, wind\nand weather and the toils of War had produced a diminution even on the\npart which as a spare force had been reserved for later use, still we\nmust take a comprehensive general view of the whole, and therefore ask,\nWill this diminution of force suffice to counterbalance the gain in\nforces, which we, through our superiority in numbers, may be able to\nmake in more ways than one?\n\nBut there still remains a most important point to be noticed. In a\npartial combat, the force required to obtain a great result can be\napproximately estimated without much difficulty, and, consequently, we\ncan form an idea of what is superfluous. In Strategy this may be said\nto be impossible, because the strategic result has no such well-defined\nobject and no such circumscribed limits as the tactical. Thus what can\nbe looked upon in tactics as an excess of power, must be regarded in\nStrategy as a means to give expansion to success, if opportunity offers\nfor it; with the magnitude of the success the gain in force increases\nat the same time, and in this way the superiority of numbers may soon\nreach a point which the most careful economy of forces could never have\nattained.\n\nBy means of his enormous numerical superiority, Buonaparte was enabled\nto reach Moscow in 1812, and to take that central capital. Had he by\nmeans of this superiority succeeded in completely defeating the Russian\nArmy, he would, in all probability, have concluded a peace in Moscow\nwhich in any other way was much less attainable. This example is used\nto explain the idea, not to prove it, which would require a\ncircumstantial demonstration, for which this is not the place.(*)\n\n(*) Compare Book VII., second edition, p. 56.\n\n\nAll these reflections bear merely upon the idea of a successive\nemployment of forces, and not upon the conception of a reserve properly\nso called, which they, no doubt, come in contact with throughout, but\nwhich, as we shall see in the following chapter, is connected with some\nother considerations.\n\nWhat we desire to establish here is, that if in tactics the military\nforce through the mere duration of actual employment suffers a\ndiminution of power, if time, therefore, appears as a factor in the\nresult, this is not the case in Strategy in a material degree. The\ndestructive effects which are also produced upon the forces in Strategy\nby time, are partly diminished through their mass, partly made good in\nother ways, and, therefore, in Strategy it cannot be an object to make\ntime an ally on its own account by bringing troops successively into\naction.\n\nWe say on \u201cits own account,\u201d for the influence which time, on account\nof other circumstances which it brings about but which are different\nfrom itself can have, indeed must necessarily have, for one of the two\nparties, is quite another thing, is anything but indifferent or\nunimportant, and will be the subject of consideration hereafter.\n\nThe rule which we have been seeking to set forth is, therefore, that\nall forces which are available and destined for a strategic object\nshould be _simultaneously_ applied to it; and this application will be\nso much the more complete the more everything is compressed into one\nact and into one movement.\n\nBut still there is in Strategy a renewal of effort and a persistent\naction which, as a chief means towards the ultimate success, is more\nparticularly not to be overlooked, it is the _continual development of\nnew forces_. This is also the subject of another chapter, and we only\nrefer to it here in order to prevent the reader from having something\nin view of which we have not been speaking.\n\nWe now turn to a subject very closely connected with our present\nconsiderations, which must be settled before full light can be thrown\non the whole, we mean the _strategic reserve_.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. Strategic Reserve\n\nA reserve has two objects which are very distinct from each other,\nnamely, first, the prolongation and renewal of the combat, and\nsecondly, for use in case of unforeseen events. The first object\nimplies the utility of a successive application of forces, and on that\naccount cannot occur in Strategy. Cases in which a corps is sent to\nsuccour a point which is supposed to be about to fall are plainly to be\nplaced in the category of the second object, as the resistance which\nhas to be offered here could not have been sufficiently foreseen. But a\ncorps which is destined expressly to prolong the combat, and with that\nobject in view is placed in rear, would be only a corps placed out of\nreach of fire, but under the command and at the disposition of the\nGeneral Commanding in the action, and accordingly would be a tactical\nand not a strategic reserve.\n\nBut the necessity for a force ready for unforeseen events may also take\nplace in Strategy, and consequently there may also be a strategic\nreserve, but only where unforeseen events are imaginable. In tactics,\nwhere the enemy\u2019s measures are generally first ascertained by direct\nsight, and where they may be concealed by every wood, every fold of\nundulating ground, we must naturally always be alive, more or less, to\nthe possibility of unforeseen events, in order to strengthen,\nsubsequently, those points which appear too weak, and, in fact, to\nmodify generally the disposition of our troops, so as to make it\ncorrespond better to that of the enemy.\n\nSuch cases must also happen in Strategy, because the strategic act is\ndirectly linked to the tactical. In Strategy also many a measure is\nfirst adopted in consequence of what is actually seen, or in\nconsequence of uncertain reports arriving from day to day, or even from\nhour to hour, and lastly, from the actual results of the combats it is,\ntherefore, an essential condition of strategic command that, according\nto the degree of uncertainty, forces must be kept in reserve against\nfuture contingencies.\n\nIn the defensive generally, but particularly in the defence of certain\nobstacles of ground, like rivers, hills, &c., such contingencies, as is\nwell known, happen constantly.\n\nBut this uncertainty diminishes in proportion as the strategic activity\nhas less of the tactical character, and ceases almost altogether in\nthose regions where it borders on politics.\n\nThe direction in which the enemy leads his columns to the combat can be\nperceived by actual sight only; where he intends to pass a river is\nlearnt from a few preparations which are made shortly before; the line\nby which he proposes to invade our country is usually announced by all\nthe newspapers before a pistol shot has been fired. The greater the\nnature of the measure the less it will take the enemy by surprise. Time\nand space are so considerable, the circumstances out of which the\naction proceeds so public and little susceptible of alteration, that\nthe coming event is either made known in good time, or can be\ndiscovered with reasonable certainty.\n\nOn the other hand the use of a reserve in this province of Strategy,\neven if one were available, will always be less efficacious the more\nthe measure has a tendency towards being one of a general nature.\n\nWe have seen that the decision of a partial combat is nothing in\nitself, but that all partial combats only find their complete solution\nin the decision of the total combat.\n\nBut even this decision of the total combat has only a relative meaning\nof many different gradations, according as the force over which the\nvictory has been gained forms a more or less great and important part\nof the whole. The lost battle of a corps may be repaired by the victory\nof the Army. Even the lost battle of an Army may not only be\ncounterbalanced by the gain of a more important one, but converted into\na fortunate event (the two days of Kulm, August 29 and 30, 1813(*)). No\none can doubt this; but it is just as clear that the weight of each\nvictory (the successful issue of each total combat) is so much the more\nsubstantial the more important the part conquered, and that therefore\nthe possibility of repairing the loss by subsequent events diminishes\nin the same proportion. In another place we shall have to examine this\nmore in detail; it suffices for the present to have drawn attention to\nthe indubitable existence of this progression.\n\n(*) Refers to the destruction of Vandamme\u2019s column, which had been sent\nunsupported to intercept the retreat of the Austrians and Prussians\nfrom Dresden\u2014but was forgotten by Napoleon.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nIf we now add lastly to these two considerations the third, which is,\nthat if the persistent use of forces in tactics always shifts the great\nresult to the end of the whole act, law of the simultaneous use of the\nforces in Strategy, on the contrary, lets the principal result (which\nneed not be the final one) take place almost always at the commencement\nof the great (or whole) act, then in these three results we have\ngrounds sufficient to find strategic reserves always more superfluous,\nalways more useless, always more dangerous, the more general their\ndestination.\n\nThe point where the idea of a strategic reserve begins to become\ninconsistent is not difficult to determine: it lies in the SUPREME\nDECISION. Employment must be given to all the forces within the space\nof the supreme decision, and every reserve (active force available)\nwhich is only intended for use after that decision is opposed to common\nsense.\n\nIf, therefore, tactics has in its reserves the means of not only\nmeeting unforeseen dispositions on the part of the enemy, but also of\nrepairing that which never can be foreseen, the result of the combat,\nshould that be unfortunate; Strategy on the other hand must, at least\nas far as relates to the capital result, renounce the use of these\nmeans. As A rule, it can only repair the losses sustained at one point\nby advantages gained at another, in a few cases by moving troops from\none point to another; the idea of preparing for such reverses by\nplacing forces in reserve beforehand, can never be entertained in\nStrategy.\n\nWe have pointed out as an absurdity the idea of a strategic reserve\nwhich is not to co-operate in the capital result, and as it is so\nbeyond a doubt, we should not have been led into such an analysis as we\nhave made in these two chapters, were it not that, in the disguise of\nother ideas, it looks like something better, and frequently makes its\nappearance. One person sees in it the acme of strategic sagacity and\nforesight; another rejects it, and with it the idea of any reserve,\nconsequently even of a tactical one. This confusion of ideas is\ntransferred to real life, and if we would see a memorable instance of\nit we have only to call to mind that Prussia in 1806 left a reserve of\n20,000 men cantoned in the Mark, under Prince Eugene of Wurtemberg,\nwhich could not possibly reach the Saale in time to be of any use, and\nthat another force Of 25,000 men belonging to this power remained in\nEast and South Prussia, destined only to be put on a war-footing\nafterwards as a reserve.\n\nAfter these examples we cannot be accused of having been fighting with\nwindmills.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. Economy of Forces\n\nThe road of reason, as we have said, seldom allows itself to be reduced\nto a mathematical line by principles and opinions. There remains always\na certain margin. But it is the same in all the practical arts of life.\nFor the lines of beauty there are no abscissae and ordinates; circles\nand ellipses are not described by means of their algebraical formulae.\nThe actor in War therefore soon finds he must trust himself to the\ndelicate tact of judgment which, founded on natural quickness of\nperception, and educated by reflection, almost unconsciously seizes\nupon the right; he soon finds that at one time he must simplify the law\n(by reducing it) to some prominent characteristic points which form his\nrules; that at another the adopted method must become the staff on\nwhich he leans.\n\nAs one of these simplified characteristic points as a mental appliance,\nwe look upon the principle of watching continually over the\nco-operation of all forces, or in other words, of keeping constantly in\nview that no part of them should ever be idle. Whoever has forces where\nthe enemy does not give them sufficient employment, whoever has part of\nhis forces on the march\u2014that is, allows them to lie dead\u2014while the\nenemy\u2019s are fighting, he is a bad manager of his forces. In this sense\nthere is a waste of forces, which is even worse than their employment\nto no purpose. If there must be action, then the first point is that\nall parts act, because the most purposeless activity still keeps\nemployed and destroys a portion of the enemy\u2019s force, whilst troops\ncompletely inactive are for the moment quite neutralised. Unmistakably\nthis idea is bound up with the principles contained in the last three\nchapters, it is the same truth, but seen from a somewhat more\ncomprehensive point of view and condensed into a single conception.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. Geometrical Element\n\nThe length to which the geometrical element or form in the disposition\nof military force in War can become a predominant principle, we see in\nthe art of fortification, where geometry looks after the great and the\nlittle. Also in tactics it plays a great part. It is the basis of\nelementary tactics, or of the theory of moving troops; but in field\nfortification, as well as in the theory of positions, and of their\nattack, its angles and lines rule like law givers who have to decide\nthe contest. Many things here were at one time misapplied, and others\nwere mere fribbles; still, however, in the tactics of the present day,\nin which in every combat the aim is to surround the enemy, the\ngeometrical element has attained anew a great importance in a very\nsimple, but constantly recurring application. Nevertheless, in tactics,\nwhere all is more movable, where the moral forces, individual traits,\nand chance are more influential than in a war of sieges, the\ngeometrical element can never attain to the same degree of supremacy as\nin the latter. But less still is its influence in Strategy; certainly\nhere, also, form in the disposition of troops, the shape of countries\nand states is of great importance; but the geometrical element is not\ndecisive, as in fortification, and not nearly so important as in\ntactics.\u2014The manner in which this influence exhibits itself, can only\nbe shown by degrees at those places where it makes its appearance, and\ndeserves notice. Here we wish more to direct attention to the\ndifference which there is between tactics and Strategy in relation to\nit.\n\nIn tactics time and space quickly dwindle to their absolute minimum. If\na body of troops is attacked in flank and rear by the enemy, it soon\ngets to a point where retreat no longer remains; such a position is\nvery close to an absolute impossibility of continuing the fight; it\nmust therefore extricate itself from it, or avoid getting into it. This\ngives to all combinations aiming at this from the first commencement a\ngreat efficiency, which chiefly consists in the disquietude which it\ncauses the enemy as to consequences. This is why the geometrical\ndisposition of the forces is such an important factor in the tactical\nproduct.\n\nIn Strategy this is only faintly reflected, on account of the greater\nspace and time. We do not fire from one theatre of war upon another;\nand often weeks and months must pass before a strategic movement\ndesigned to surround the enemy can be executed. Further, the distances\nare so great that the probability of hitting the right point at last,\neven with the best arrangements, is but small.\n\nIn Strategy therefore the scope for such combinations, that is for\nthose resting on the geometrical element, is much smaller, and for the\nsame reason the effect of an advantage once actually gained at any\npoint is much greater. Such advantage has time to bring all its effects\nto maturity before it is disturbed, or quite neutralised therein, by\nany counteracting apprehensions. We therefore do not hesitate to regard\nas an established truth, that in Strategy more depends on the number\nand the magnitude of the victorious combats, than on the form of the\ngreat lines by which they are connected.\n\nA view just the reverse has been a favourite theme of modern theory,\nbecause a greater importance was supposed to be thus given to Strategy,\nand, as the higher functions of the mind were seen in Strategy, it was\nthought by that means to ennoble War, and, as it was said\u2014through a new\nsubstitution of ideas\u2014to make it more scientific. We hold it to be one\nof the principal uses of a complete theory openly to expose such\nvagaries, and as the geometrical element is the fundamental idea from\nwhich theory usually proceeds, therefore we have expressly brought out\nthis point in strong relief.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. On the Suspension of the Act in War\n\nIf one considers War as an act of mutual destruction, we must of\nnecessity imagine both parties as making some progress; but at the same\ntime, as regards the existing moment, we must almost as necessarily\nsuppose the one party in a state of expectation, and only the other\nactually advancing, for circumstances can never be actually the same on\nboth sides, or continue so. In time a change must ensue, from which it\nfollows that the present moment is more favourable to one side than the\nother. Now if we suppose that both commanders have a full knowledge of\nthis circumstance, then the one has a motive for action, which at the\nsame time is a motive for the other to wait; therefore, according to\nthis it cannot be for the interest of both at the same time to advance,\nnor can waiting be for the interest of both at the same time. This\nopposition of interest as regards the object is not deduced here from\nthe principle of general polarity, and therefore is not in opposition\nto the argument in the fifth chapter of the second book; it depends on\nthe fact that here in reality the same thing is at once an incentive or\nmotive to both commanders, namely the probability of improving or\nimpairing their position by future action.\n\nBut even if we suppose the possibility of a perfect equality of\ncircumstances in this respect, or if we take into account that through\nimperfect knowledge of their mutual position such an equality may\nappear to the two Commanders to subsist, still the difference of\npolitical objects does away with this possibility of suspension. One of\nthe parties must of necessity be assumed politically to be the\naggressor, because no War could take place from defensive intentions on\nboth sides. But the aggressor has the positive object, the defender\nmerely a negative one. To the first then belongs the positive action,\nfor it is only by that means that he can attain the positive object;\ntherefore, in cases where both parties are in precisely similar\ncircumstances, the aggressor is called upon to act by virtue of his\npositive object.\n\nTherefore, from this point of view, a suspension in the act of Warfare,\nstrictly speaking, is in contradiction with the nature of the thing;\nbecause two Armies, being two incompatible elements, should destroy one\nanother unremittingly, just as fire and water can never put themselves\nin equilibrium, but act and react upon one another, until one quite\ndisappears. What would be said of two wrestlers who remained clasped\nround each other for hours without making a movement. Action in War,\ntherefore, like that of a clock which is wound up, should go on running\ndown in regular motion.\u2014But wild as is the nature of War it still wears\nthe chains of human weakness, and the contradiction we see here, viz.,\nthat man seeks and creates dangers which he fears at the same time will\nastonish no one.\n\nIf we cast a glance at military history in general, we find so much the\nopposite of an incessant advance towards the aim, that _standing still_\nand _doing nothing_ is quite plainly the _normal condition_ of an Army\nin the midst of War, _acting_, the _exception_. This must almost raise\na doubt as to the correctness of our conception. But if military\nhistory leads to this conclusion when viewed in the mass the latest\nseries of campaigns redeems our position. The War of the French\nRevolution shows too plainly its reality, and only proves too clearly\nits necessity. In these operations, and especially in the campaigns of\nBuonaparte, the conduct of War attained to that unlimited degree of\nenergy which we have represented as the natural law of the element.\nThis degree is therefore possible, and if it is possible then it is\nnecessary.\n\nHow could any one in fact justify in the eyes of reason the expenditure\nof forces in War, if acting was not the object? The baker only heats\nhis oven if he has bread to put into it; the horse is only yoked to the\ncarriage if we mean to drive; why then make the enormous effort of a\nWar if we look for nothing else by it but like efforts on the part of\nthe enemy?\n\nSo much in justification of the general principle; now as to its\nmodifications, as far as they lie in the nature of the thing and are\nindependent of special cases.\n\nThere are three causes to be noticed here, which appear as innate\ncounterpoises and prevent the over-rapid or uncontrollable movement of\nthe wheel-work.\n\nThe first, which produces a constant tendency to delay, and is thereby\na retarding principle, is the natural timidity and want of resolution\nin the human mind, a kind of inertia in the moral world, but which is\nproduced not by attractive, but by repellent forces, that is to say, by\ndread of danger and responsibility.\n\nIn the burning element of War, ordinary natures appear to become\nheavier; the impulsion given must therefore be stronger and more\nfrequently repeated if the motion is to be a continuous one. The mere\nidea of the object for which arms have been taken up is seldom\nsufficient to overcome this resistant force, and if a warlike\nenterprising spirit is not at the head, who feels himself in War in his\nnatural element, as much as a fish in the ocean, or if there is not the\npressure from above of some great responsibility, then standing still\nwill be the order of the day, and progress will be the exception.\n\nThe second cause is the imperfection of human perception and judgment,\nwhich is greater in War than anywhere, because a person hardly knows\nexactly his own position from one moment to another, and can only\nconjecture on slight grounds that of the enemy, which is purposely\nconcealed; this often gives rise to the case of both parties looking\nupon one and the same object as advantageous for them, while in reality\nthe interest of one must preponderate; thus then each may think he acts\nwisely by waiting another moment, as we have already said in the fifth\nchapter of the second book.\n\nThe third cause which catches hold, like a ratchet wheel in machinery,\nfrom time to time producing a complete standstill, is the greater\nstrength of the defensive form. A may feel too weak to attack B, from\nwhich it does not follow that B is strong enough for an attack on A.\nThe addition of strength, which the defensive gives is not merely lost\nby assuming the offensive, but also passes to the enemy just as,\nfiguratively expressed, the difference of _a_ + _b_ and _a_ \u2013 _b_ is\nequal to 2_b_. Therefore it may so happen that both parties, at one and\nthe same time, not only feel themselves too weak to attack, but also\nare so in reality.\n\nThus even in the midst of the act of War itself, anxious sagacity and\nthe apprehension of too great danger find vantage ground, by means of\nwhich they can exert their power, and tame the elementary impetuosity\nof War.\n\nHowever, at the same time these causes without an exaggeration of their\neffect, would hardly explain the long states of inactivity which took\nplace in military operations, in former times, in Wars undertaken about\ninterests of no great importance, and in which inactivity consumed\nnine-tenths of the time that the troops remained under arms. This\nfeature in these Wars, is to be traced principally to the influence\nwhich the demands of the one party, and the condition, and feeling of\nthe other, exercised over the conduct of the operations, as has been\nalready observed in the chapter on the essence and object of War.\n\nThese things may obtain such a preponderating influence as to make of\nWar a half-and-half affair. A War is often nothing more than an armed\nneutrality, or a menacing attitude to support negotiations or an\nattempt to gain some small advantage by small exertions, and then to\nwait the tide of circumstances, or a disagreeable treaty obligation,\nwhich is fulfilled in the most niggardly way possible.\n\nIn all these cases in which the impulse given by interest is slight,\nand the principle of hostility feeble, in which there is no desire to\ndo much, and also not much to dread from the enemy; in short, where no\npowerful motives press and drive, cabinets will not risk much in the\ngame; hence this tame mode of carrying on War, in which the hostile\nspirit of real War is laid in irons.\n\nThe more War becomes in this manner devitalised so much the more its\ntheory becomes destitute of the necessary firm pivots and buttresses\nfor its reasoning; the necessary is constantly diminishing, the\naccidental constantly increasing.\n\nNevertheless in this kind of Warfare, there is also a certain\nshrewdness, indeed, its action is perhaps more diversified, and more\nextensive than in the other. Hazard played with realeaux of gold seems\nchanged into a game of commerce with groschen. And on this field, where\nthe conduct of War spins out the time with a number of small\nflourishes, with skirmishes at outposts, half in earnest half in jest,\nwith long dispositions which end in nothing with positions and marches,\nwhich afterwards are designated as skilful only because their\ninfinitesimally small causes are lost, and common sense can make\nnothing of them, here on this very field many theorists find the real\nArt of War at home: in these feints, parades, half and quarter thrusts\nof former Wars, they find the aim of all theory, the supremacy of mind\nover matter, and modern Wars appear to them mere savage fisticuffs,\nfrom which nothing is to be learnt, and which must be regarded as mere\nretrograde steps towards barbarism. This opinion is as frivolous as the\nobjects to which it relates. Where great forces and great passions are\nwanting, it is certainly easier for a practised dexterity to show its\ngame; but is then the command of great forces, not in itself a higher\nexercise of the intelligent faculties? Is then that kind of\nconventional sword-exercise not comprised in and belonging to the other\nmode of conducting War? Does it not bear the same relation to it as the\nmotions upon a ship to the motion of the ship itself? Truly it can take\nplace only under the tacit condition that the adversary does no better.\nAnd can we tell, how long he may choose to respect those conditions?\nHas not then the French Revolution fallen upon us in the midst of the\nfancied security of our old system of War, and driven us from Chalons\nto Moscow? And did not Frederick the Great in like manner surprise the\nAustrians reposing in their ancient habits of War, and make their\nmonarchy tremble? Woe to the cabinet which, with a shilly-shally\npolicy, and a routine-ridden military system, meets with an adversary\nwho, like the rude element, knows no other law than that of his\nintrinsic force. Every deficiency in energy and exertion is then a\nweight in the scales in favour of the enemy; it is not so easy then to\nchange from the fencing posture into that of an athlete, and a slight\nblow is often sufficient to knock down the whole.\n\nThe result of all the causes now adduced is, that the hostile action of\na campaign does not progress by a continuous, but by an intermittent\nmovement, and that, therefore, between the separate bloody acts, there\nis a period of watching, during which both parties fall into the\ndefensive, and also that usually a higher object causes the principle\nof aggression to predominate on one side, and thus leaves it in general\nin an advancing position, by which then its proceedings become modified\nin some degree.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. On the Character of Modern War\n\nThe attention which must be paid to the character of War as it is now\nmade, has a great influence upon all plans, especially on strategic\nones.\n\nSince all methods formerly usual were upset by Buonaparte\u2019s luck and\nboldness, and first-rate Powers almost wiped out at a blow; since the\nSpaniards by their stubborn resistance have shown what the general\narming of a nation and insurgent measures on a great scale can effect,\nin spite of weakness and porousness of individual parts; since Russia,\nby the campaign of 1812 has taught us, first, that an Empire of great\ndimensions is not to be conquered (which might have been easily known\nbefore), secondly, that the probability of final success does not in\nall cases diminish in the same measure as battles, capitals, and\nprovinces are lost (which was formerly an incontrovertible principle\nwith all diplomatists, and therefore made them always ready to enter at\nonce into some bad temporary peace), but that a nation is often\nstrongest in the heart of its country, if the enemy\u2019s offensive power\nhas exhausted itself, and with what enormous force the defensive then\nsprings over to the offensive; further, since Prussia (1813) has shown\nthat sudden efforts may add to an Army sixfold by means of the militia,\nand that this militia is just as fit for service abroad as in its own\ncountry;\u2014since all these events have shown what an enormous factor the\nheart and sentiments of a Nation may be in the product of its political\nand military strength, in fine, since governments have found out all\nthese additional aids, it is not to be expected that they will let them\nlie idle in future Wars, whether it be that danger threatens their own\nexistence, or that restless ambition drives them on.\n\nThat a War which is waged with the whole weight of the national power\non each side must be organised differently in principle to those where\neverything is calculated according to the relations of standing Armies\nto each other, it is easy to perceive. Standing Armies once resembled\nfleets, the land force the sea force in their relations to the\nremainder of the State, and from that the Art of War on shore had in it\nsomething of naval tactics, which it has now quite lost.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. Tension and Rest\n\n_The Dynamic Law of War_\n\n\nWe have seen in the sixteenth chapter of this book, how, in most\ncampaigns, much more time used to be spent in standing still and\ninaction than in activity.\n\nNow, although, as observed in the preceding chapter we see quite a\ndifferent character in the present form of War, still it is certain\nthat real action will always be interrupted more or less by long\npauses; and this leads to the necessity of our examining more closely\nthe nature of these two phases of War.\n\nIf there is a suspension of action in War, that is, if neither party\nwills something positive, there is rest, and consequently equilibrium,\nbut certainly an equilibrium in the largest signification, in which not\nonly the moral and physical war-forces, but all relations and\ninterests, come into calculation. As soon as ever one of the two\nparties proposes to himself a new positive object, and commences active\nsteps towards it, even if it is only by preparations, and as soon as\nthe adversary opposes this, there is a tension of powers; this lasts\nuntil the decision takes place\u2014that is, until one party either gives up\nhis object or the other has conceded it to him.\n\nThis decision\u2014the foundation of which lies always in the\ncombat\u2014combinations which are made on each side\u2014is followed by a\nmovement in one or other direction.\n\nWhen this movement has exhausted itself, either in the difficulties\nwhich had to be mastered, in overcoming its own internal friction, or\nthrough new resistant forces prepared by the acts of the enemy, then\neither a state of rest takes place or a new tension with a decision,\nand then a new movement, in most cases in the opposite direction.\n\nThis speculative distinction between equilibrium, tension, and motion\nis more essential for practical action than may at first sight appear.\n\nIn a state of rest and of equilibrium a varied kind of activity may\nprevail on one side that results from opportunity, and does not aim at\na great alteration. Such an activity may contain important combats\u2014even\npitched battles\u2014but yet it is still of quite a different nature, and on\nthat account generally different in its effects.\n\nIf a state of tension exists, the effects of the decision are always\ngreater partly because a greater force of will and a greater pressure\nof circumstances manifest themselves therein; partly because everything\nhas been prepared and arranged for a great movement. The decision in\nsuch cases resembles the effect of a mine well closed and tamped,\nwhilst an event in itself perhaps just as great, in a state of rest, is\nmore or less like a mass of powder puffed away in the open air.\n\nAt the same time, as a matter of course, the state of tension must be\nimagined in different degrees of intensity, and it may therefore\napproach gradually by many steps towards the state of rest, so that at\nthe last there is a very slight difference between them.\n\nNow the real use which we derive from these reflections is the\nconclusion that every measure which is taken during a state of tension\nis more important and more prolific in results than the same measure\ncould be in a state of equilibrium, and that this importance increases\nimmensely in the highest degrees of tension.\n\nThe cannonade of Valmy, September 20, 1792, decided more than the\nbattle of Hochkirch, October 14, 1758.\n\nIn a tract of country which the enemy abandons to us because he cannot\ndefend it, we can settle ourselves differently from what we should do\nif the retreat of the enemy was only made with the view to a decision\nunder more favourable circumstances. Again, a strategic attack in\ncourse of execution, a faulty position, a single false march, may be\ndecisive in its consequence; whilst in a state of equilibrium such\nerrors must be of a very glaring kind, even to excite the activity of\nthe enemy in a general way.\n\nMost bygone Wars, as we have already said, consisted, so far as regards\nthe greater part of the time, in this state of equilibrium, or at least\nin such short tensions with long intervals between them, and weak in\ntheir effects, that the events to which they gave rise were seldom\ngreat successes, often they were theatrical exhibitions, got up in\nhonour of a royal birthday (Hochkirch), often a mere satisfying of the\nhonour of the arms (Kunersdorf), or the personal vanity of the\ncommander (Freiberg).\n\nThat a Commander should thoroughly understand these states, that he\nshould have the tact to act in the spirit of them, we hold to be a\ngreat requisite, and we have had experience in the campaign of 1806 how\nfar it is sometimes wanting. In that tremendous tension, when\neverything pressed on towards a supreme decision, and that alone with\nall its consequences should have occupied the whole soul of the\nCommander, measures were proposed and even partly carried out (such as\nthe reconnaissance towards Franconia), which at the most might have\ngiven a kind of gentle play of oscillation within a state of\nequilibrium. Over these blundering schemes and views, absorbing the\nactivity of the Army, the really necessary means, which could alone\nsave, were lost sight of.\n\nBut this speculative distinction which we have made is also necessary\nfor our further progress in the construction of our theory, because all\nthat we have to say on the relation of attack and defence, and on the\ncompletion of this double-sided act, concerns the state of the crisis\nin which the forces are placed during the tension and motion, and\nbecause all the activity which can take place during the condition of\nequilibrium can only be regarded and treated as a corollary; for that\ncrisis is the real War and this state of equilibrium only its\nreflection.\n\n\n\nBOOK IV THE COMBAT\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Introductory\n\nHaving in the foregoing book examined the subjects which may be\nregarded as the efficient elements of War, we shall now turn our\nattention to the combat as the real activity in Warfare, which, by its\nphysical and moral effects, embraces sometimes more simply, sometimes\nin a more complex manner, the object of the whole campaign. In this\nactivity and in its effects these elements must therefore, reappear.\n\nThe formation of the combat is tactical in its nature; we only glance\nat it here in a general way in order to get acquainted with it in its\naspect as a whole. In practice the minor or more immediate objects give\nevery combat a characteristic form; these minor objects we shall not\ndiscuss until hereafter. But these peculiarities are in comparison to\nthe general characteristics of a combat mostly only insignificant, so\nthat most combats are very like one another, and, therefore, in order\nto avoid repeating that which is general at every stage, we are\ncompelled to look into it here, before taking up the subject of its\nmore special application.\n\nIn the first place, therefore, we shall give in the next chapter, in a\nfew words, the characteristics of the modern battle in its tactical\ncourse, because that lies at the foundation of our conceptions of what\nthe battle really is.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Character of a Modern Battle\n\nAccording to the notion we have formed of tactics and strategy, it\nfollows, as a matter of course, that if the nature of the former is\nchanged, that change must have an influence on the latter. If tactical\nfacts in one case are entirely different from those in another, then\nthe strategic, must be so also, if they are to continue consistent and\nreasonable. It is therefore important to characterise a general action\nin its modern form before we advance with the study of its employment\nin strategy.\n\nWhat do we do now usually in a great battle? We place ourselves quietly\nin great masses arranged contiguous to and behind one another. We\ndeploy relatively only a small portion of the whole, and let it wring\nitself out in a fire-combat which lasts for several hours, only\ninterrupted now and again, and removed hither and thither by separate\nsmall shocks from charges with the bayonet and cavalry attacks. When\nthis line has gradually exhausted part of its warlike ardour in this\nmanner and there remains nothing more than the cinders, it is\nwithdrawn(*) and replaced by another.\n\n(*) The relief of the fighting line played a great part in the battles\nof the Smooth-Bore era; it was necessitated by the fouling of the\nmuskets, physical fatigue of the men and consumption of ammunition, and\nwas recognised as both necessary and advisable by Napoleon\nhimself.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nIn this manner the battle on a modified principle burns slowly away\nlike wet powder, and if the veil of night commands it to stop, because\nneither party can any longer see, and neither chooses to run the risk\nof blind chance, then an account is taken by each side respectively of\nthe masses remaining, which can be called still effective, that is,\nwhich have not yet quite collapsed like extinct volcanoes; account is\ntaken of the ground gained or lost, and of how stands the security of\nthe rear; these results with the special impressions as to bravery and\ncowardice, ability and stupidity, which are thought to have been\nobserved in ourselves and in the enemy are collected into one single\ntotal impression, out of which there springs the resolution to quit the\nfield or to renew the combat on the morrow.\n\nThis description, which is not intended as a finished picture of a\nmodern battle, but only to give its general tone, suits for the\noffensive and defensive, and the special traits which are given, by the\nobject proposed, the country, &c. &c., may be introduced into it,\nwithout materially altering the conception.\n\nBut modern battles are not so by accident; they are so because the\nparties find themselves nearly on a level as regards military\norganisation and the knowledge of the Art of War, and because the\nwarlike element inflamed by great national interests has broken through\nartificial limits and now flows in its natural channel. Under these two\nconditions, battles will always preserve this character.\n\nThis general idea of the modern battle will be useful to us in the\nsequel in more places than one, if we want to estimate the value of the\nparticular co-efficients of strength, country, &c. &c. It is only for\ngeneral, great, and decisive combats, and such as come near to them\nthat this description stands good; inferior ones have changed their\ncharacter also in the same direction but less than great ones. The\nproof of this belongs to tactics; we shall, however, have an\nopportunity hereafter of making this subject plainer by giving a few\nparticulars.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. The Combat in General\n\nThe Combat is the real warlike activity, everything else is only its\nauxiliary; let us therefore take an attentive look at its nature.\n\nCombat means fighting, and in this the destruction or conquest of the\nenemy is the object, and the enemy, in the particular combat, is the\narmed force which stands opposed to us.\n\nThis is the simple idea; we shall return to it, but before we can do\nthat we must insert a series of others.\n\nIf we suppose the State and its military force as a unit, then the most\nnatural idea is to imagine the War also as one great combat, and in the\nsimple relations of savage nations it is also not much otherwise. But\nour Wars are made up of a number of great and small simultaneous or\nconsecutive combats, and this severance of the activity into so many\nseparate actions is owing to the great multiplicity of the relations\nout of which War arises with us.\n\nIn point of fact, the ultimate object of our Wars, the political one,\nis not always quite a simple one; and even were it so, still the action\nis bound up with such a number of conditions and considerations to be\ntaken into account, that the object can no longer be attained by one\nsingle great act but only through a number of greater or smaller acts\nwhich are bound up into a whole; each of these separate acts is\ntherefore a part of a whole, and has consequently a special object by\nwhich it is bound to this whole.\n\nWe have already said that every strategic act can be referred to the\nidea of a combat, because it is an employment of the military force,\nand at the root of that there always lies the idea of fighting. We may\ntherefore reduce every military activity in the province of Strategy to\nthe unit of single combats, and occupy ourselves with the object of\nthese only; we shall get acquainted with these special objects by\ndegrees as we come to speak of the causes which produce them; here we\ncontent ourselves with saying that every combat, great or small, has\nits own peculiar object in subordination to the main object. If this is\nthe case then, the destruction and conquest of the enemy is only to be\nregarded as the means of gaining this object; as it unquestionably is.\n\nBut this result is true only in its form, and important only on account\nof the connection which the ideas have between themselves, and we have\nonly sought it out to get rid of it at once.\n\nWhat is overcoming the enemy? Invariably the destruction of his\nmilitary force, whether it be by death, or wounds, or any means;\nwhether it be completely or only to such a degree that he can no longer\ncontinue the contest; therefore as long as we set aside all special\nobjects of combats, we may look upon the complete or partial\ndestruction of the enemy as the only object of all combats.\n\nNow we maintain that in the majority of cases, and especially in great\nbattles, the special object by which the battle is individualised and\nbound up with the great whole is only a weak modification of that\ngeneral object, or an ancillary object bound up with it, important\nenough to individualise the battle, but always insignificant in\ncomparison with that general object; so that if that ancillary object\nalone should be obtained, only an unimportant part of the purpose of\nthe combat is fulfilled. If this assertion is correct, then we see that\nthe idea, according to which the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force is\nonly the means, and something else always the object, can only be true\nin form, but, that it would lead to false conclusions if we did not\nrecollect that this destruction of the enemy\u2019s force is comprised in\nthat object, and that this object is only a weak modification of it.\nForgetfulness of this led to completely false views before the Wars of\nthe last period, and created tendencies as well as fragments of\nsystems, in which theory thought it raised itself so much the more\nabove handicraft, the less it supposed itself to stand in need of the\nuse of the real instrument, that is the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforce.\n\nCertainly such a system could not have arisen unless supported by other\nfalse suppositions, and unless in place of the destruction of the\nenemy, other things had been substituted to which an efficacy was\nascribed which did not rightly belong to them. We shall attack these\nfalsehoods whenever occasion requires, but we could not treat of the\ncombat without claiming for it the real importance and value which\nbelong to it, and giving warning against the errors to which merely\nformal truth might lead.\n\nBut now how shall we manage to show that in most cases, and in those of\nmost importance, the destruction of the enemy\u2019s Army is the chief\nthing? How shall we manage to combat that extremely subtle idea, which\nsupposes it possible, through the use of a special artificial form, to\neffect by a small direct destruction of the enemy\u2019s forces a much\ngreater destruction indirectly, or by means of small but extremely\nwell-directed blows to produce such paralysation of the enemy\u2019s forces,\nsuch a command over the enemy\u2019s will, that this mode of proceeding is\nto be viewed as a great shortening of the road? Undoubtedly a victory\nat one point may be of more value than at another. Undoubtedly there is\na scientific arrangement of battles amongst themselves, even in\nStrategy, which is in fact nothing but the Art of thus arranging them.\nTo deny that is not our intention, but we assert that the direct\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s forces is everywhere predominant; we contend\nhere for the overruling importance of this destructive principle and\nnothing else.\n\nWe must, however, call to mind that we are now engaged with Strategy,\nnot with tactics, therefore we do not speak of the means which the\nformer may have of destroying at a small expense a large body of the\nenemy\u2019s forces, but under direct destruction we understand the tactical\nresults, and that, therefore, our assertion is that only great tactical\nresults can lead to great strategical ones, or, as we have already once\nbefore more distinctly expressed it, _the tactical successes_ are of\nparamount importance in the conduct of War.\n\nThe proof of this assertion seems to us simple enough, it lies in the\ntime which every complicated (artificial) combination requires. The\nquestion whether a simple attack, or one more carefully prepared,\n_i.e._, more artificial, will produce greater effects, may undoubtedly\nbe decided in favour of the latter as long as the enemy is assumed to\nremain quite passive. But every carefully combined attack requires time\nfor its preparation, and if a counter-stroke by the enemy intervenes,\nour whole design may be upset. Now if the enemy should decide upon some\nsimple attack, which can be executed in a shorter time, then he gains\nthe initiative, and destroys the effect of the great plan. Therefore,\ntogether with the expediency of a complicated attack we must consider\nall the dangers which we run during its preparation, and should only\nadopt it if there is no reason to fear that the enemy will disconcert\nour scheme. Whenever this is the case we must ourselves choose the\nsimpler, _i.e._, quicker way, and lower our views in this sense as far\nas the character, the relations of the enemy, and other circumstances\nmay render necessary. If we quit the weak impressions of abstract ideas\nand descend to the region of practical life, then it is evident that a\nbold, courageous, resolute enemy will not let us have time for\nwide-reaching skilful combinations, and it is just against such a one\nwe should require skill the most. By this it appears to us that the\nadvantage of simple and direct results over those that are complicated\nis conclusively shown.\n\nOur opinion is not on that account that the simple blow is the best,\nbut that we must not lift the arm too far for the time given to strike,\nand that this condition will always lead more to direct conflict the\nmore warlike our opponent is. Therefore, far from making it our aim to\ngain upon the enemy by complicated plans, we must rather seek to be\nbeforehand with him by greater simplicity in our designs.\n\nIf we seek for the lowest foundation-stones of these converse\npropositions we find that in the one it is ability, in the other,\ncourage. Now, there is something very attractive in the notion that a\nmoderate degree of courage joined to great ability will produce greater\neffects than moderate ability with great courage. But unless we suppose\nthese elements in a disproportionate relation, not logical, we have no\nright to assign to ability this advantage over courage in a field which\nis called danger, and which must be regarded as the true domain of\ncourage.\n\nAfter this abstract view we shall only add that experience, very far\nfrom leading to a different conclusion, is rather the sole cause which\nhas impelled us in this direction, and given rise to such reflections.\n\nWhoever reads history with a mind free from prejudice cannot fail to\narrive at a conviction that of all military virtues, energy in the\nconduct of operations has always contributed the most to the glory and\nsuccess of arms.\n\nHow we make good our principle of regarding the destruction of the\nenemy\u2019s force as the principal object, not only in the War as a whole\nbut also in each separate combat, and how that principle suits all the\nforms and conditions necessarily demanded by the relations out of which\nWar springs, the sequel will show. For the present all that we desire\nis to uphold its general importance, and with this result we return\nagain to the combat.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. The Combat in General (_continuation_)\n\nIn the last chapter we showed the destruction of the enemy as the true\nobject of the combat, and we have sought to prove by a special\nconsideration of the point, that this is true in the majority of cases,\nand in respect to the most important battles, because the destruction\nof the enemy\u2019s Army is always the preponderating object in War. The\nother objects which may be mixed up with this destruction of the\nenemy\u2019s force, and may have more or less influence, we shall describe\ngenerally in the next chapter, and become better acquainted with by\ndegrees afterwards; here we divest the combat of them entirely, and\nlook upon the destruction of the enemy as the complete and sufficient\nobject of any combat.\n\nWhat are we now to understand by destruction of the enemy\u2019s Army? A\ndiminution of it relatively greater than that on our own side. If we\nhave a great superiority in numbers over the enemy, then naturally the\nsame absolute amount of loss on both sides is for us a smaller one than\nfor him, and consequently may be regarded in itself as an advantage. As\nwe are here considering the combat as divested of all (other) objects,\nwe must also exclude from our consideration the case in which the\ncombat is used only indirectly for a greater destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforce; consequently also, only that direct gain which has been made in\nthe mutual process of destruction, is to be regarded as the object, for\nthis is an absolute gain, which runs through the whole campaign, and at\nthe end of it will always appear as pure profit. But every other kind\nof victory over our opponent will either have its motive in other\nobjects, which we have completely excluded here, or it will only yield\na temporary relative advantage. An example will make this plain.\n\nIf by a skilful disposition we have reduced our opponent to such a\ndilemma, that he cannot continue the combat without danger, and after\nsome resistance he retires, then we may say, that we have conquered him\nat that point; but if in this victory we have expended just as many\nforces as the enemy, then in closing the account of the campaign, there\nis no gain remaining from this victory, if such a result can be called\na victory. Therefore the overcoming the enemy, that is, placing him in\nsuch a position that he must give up the fight, counts for nothing in\nitself, and for that reason cannot come under the definition of object.\nThere remains, therefore, as we have said, nothing over except the\ndirect gain which we have made in the process of destruction; but to\nthis belong not only the losses which have taken place in the course of\nthe combat, but also those which, after the withdrawal of the conquered\npart, take place as direct consequences of the same.\n\nNow it is known by experience, that the losses in physical forces in\nthe course of a battle seldom present a great difference between victor\nand vanquished respectively, often none at all, sometimes even one\nbearing an inverse relation to the result, and that the most decisive\nlosses on the side of the vanquished only commence with the retreat,\nthat is, those which the conqueror does not share with him. The weak\nremains of battalions already in disorder are cut down by cavalry,\nexhausted men strew the ground, disabled guns and broken caissons are\nabandoned, others in the bad state of the roads cannot be removed\nquickly enough, and are captured by the enemy\u2019s troops, during the\nnight numbers lose their way, and fall defenceless into the enemy\u2019s\nhands, and thus the victory mostly gains bodily substance after it is\nalready decided. Here would be a paradox, if it did not solve itself in\nthe following manner.\n\nThe loss in physical force is not the only one which the two sides\nsuffer in the course of the combat; the moral forces also are shaken,\nbroken, and go to ruin. It is not only the loss in men, horses and\nguns, but in order, courage, confidence, cohesion and plan, which come\ninto consideration when it is a question whether the fight can be still\ncontinued or not. It is principally the moral forces which decide here,\nand in all cases in which the conqueror has lost as heavily as the\nconquered, it is these alone.\n\nThe comparative relation of the physical losses is difficult to\nestimate in a battle, but not so the relation of the moral ones. Two\nthings principally make it known. The one is the loss of the ground on\nwhich the fight has taken place, the other the superiority of the\nenemy\u2019s. The more our reserves have diminished as compared with those\nof the enemy, the more force we have used to maintain the equilibrium;\nin this at once, an evident proof of the moral superiority of the enemy\nis given which seldom fails to stir up in the soul of the Commander a\ncertain bitterness of feeling, and a sort of contempt for his own\ntroops. But the principal thing is, that men who have been engaged for\na long continuance of time are more or less like burnt-out cinders;\ntheir ammunition is consumed; they have melted away to a certain\nextent; physical and moral energies are exhausted, perhaps their\ncourage is broken as well. Such a force, irrespective of the diminution\nin its number, if viewed as an organic whole, is very different from\nwhat it was before the combat; and thus it is that the loss of moral\nforce may be measured by the reserves that have been used as if it were\non a foot-rule.\n\nLost ground and want of fresh reserves, are, therefore, usually the\nprincipal causes which determine a retreat; but at the same time we by\nno means exclude or desire to throw in the shade other reasons, which\nmay lie in the interdependence of parts of the Army, in the general\nplan, &c.\n\nEvery combat is therefore the bloody and destructive measuring of the\nstrength of forces, physical and moral; whoever at the close has the\ngreatest amount of both left is the conqueror.\n\nIn the combat the loss of moral force is the chief cause of the\ndecision; after that is given, this loss continues to increase until it\nreaches its culminating-point at the close of the whole act. This then\nis the opportunity the victor should seize to reap his harvest by the\nutmost possible restrictions of his enemy\u2019s forces, the real object of\nengaging in the combat. On the beaten side, the loss of all order and\ncontrol often makes the prolongation of resistance by individual units,\nby the further punishment they are certain to suffer, more injurious\nthan useful to the whole. The spirit of the mass is broken; the\noriginal excitement about losing or winning, through which danger was\nforgotten, is spent, and to the majority danger now appears no longer\nan appeal to their courage, but rather the endurance of a cruel\npunishment. Thus the instrument in the first moment of the enemy\u2019s\nvictory is weakened and blunted, and therefore no longer fit to repay\ndanger by danger.\n\nThis period, however, passes; the moral forces of the conquered will\nrecover by degrees, order will be restored, courage will revive, and in\nthe majority of cases there remains only a small part of the\nsuperiority obtained, often none at all. In some cases, even, although\nrarely, the spirit of revenge and intensified hostility may bring about\nan opposite result. On the other hand, whatever is gained in killed,\nwounded, prisoners, and guns captured can never disappear from the\naccount.\n\nThe losses in a battle consist more in killed and wounded; those after\nthe battle, more in artillery taken and prisoners. The first the\nconqueror shares with the conquered, more or less, but the second not;\nand for that reason they usually only take place on one side of the\nconflict, at least, they are considerably in excess on one side.\n\nArtillery and prisoners are therefore at all times regarded as the true\ntrophies of victory, as well as its measure, because through these\nthings its extent is declared beyond a doubt. Even the degree of moral\nsuperiority may be better judged of by them than by any other relation,\nespecially if the number of killed and wounded is compared therewith;\nand here arises a new power increasing the moral effects.\n\nWe have said that the moral forces, beaten to the ground in the battle\nand in the immediately succeeding movements, recover themselves\ngradually, and often bear no traces of injury; this is the case with\nsmall divisions of the whole, less frequently with large divisions; it\nmay, however, also be the case with the main Army, but seldom or never\nin the State or Government to which the Army belongs. These estimate\nthe situation more impartially, and from a more elevated point of view,\nand recognise in the number of trophies taken by the enemy, and their\nrelation to the number of killed and wounded, only too easily and well,\nthe measure of their own weakness and inefficiency.\n\nIn point of fact, the lost balance of moral power must not be treated\nlightly because it has no absolute value, and because it does not of\nnecessity appear in all cases in the amount of the results at the final\nclose; it may become of such excessive weight as to bring down\neverything with an irresistible force. On that account it may often\nbecome a great aim of the operations of which we shall speak elsewhere.\nHere we have still to examine some of its fundamental relations.\n\nThe moral effect of a victory increases, not merely in proportion to\nthe extent of the forces engaged, but in a progressive ratio\u2014that is to\nsay, not only in extent, but also in its intensity. In a beaten\ndetachment order is easily restored. As a single frozen limb is easily\nrevived by the rest of the body, so the courage of a defeated\ndetachment is easily raised again by the courage of the rest of the\nArmy as soon as it rejoins it. If, therefore, the effects of a small\nvictory are not completely done away with, still they are partly lost\nto the enemy. This is not the case if the Army itself sustains a great\ndefeat; then one with the other fall together. A great fire attains\nquite a different heat from several small ones.\n\nAnother relation which determines the moral value of a victory is the\nnumerical relation of the forces which have been in conflict with each\nother. To beat many with few is not only a double success, but shows\nalso a greater, especially a more general superiority, which the\nconquered must always be fearful of encountering again. At the same\ntime this influence is in reality hardly observable in such a case. In\nthe moment of real action, the notions of the actual strength of the\nenemy are generally so uncertain, the estimate of our own commonly so\nincorrect, that the party superior in numbers either does not admit the\ndisproportion, or is very far from admitting the full truth, owing to\nwhich, he evades almost entirely the moral disadvantages which would\nspring from it. It is only hereafter in history that the truth, long\nsuppressed through ignorance, vanity, or a wise discretion, makes its\nappearance, and then it certainly casts a lustre on the Army and its\nLeader, but it can then do nothing more by its moral influence for\nevents long past.\n\nIf prisoners and captured guns are those things by which the victory\nprincipally gains substance, its true crystallisations, then the plan\nof the battle should have those things specially in view; the\ndestruction of the enemy by death and wounds appears here merely as a\nmeans to an end.\n\nHow far this may influence the dispositions in the battle is not an\naffair of Strategy, but the decision to fight the battle is in intimate\nconnection with it, as is shown by the direction given to our forces,\nand their general grouping, whether we threaten the enemy\u2019s flank or\nrear, or he threatens ours. On this point, the number of prisoners and\ncaptured guns depends very much, and it is a point which, in many\ncases, tactics alone cannot satisfy, particularly if the strategic\nrelations are too much in opposition to it.\n\nThe risk of having to fight on two sides, and the still more dangerous\nposition of having no line of retreat left open, paralyse the movements\nand the power of resistance; further, in case of defeat, they increase\nthe loss, often raising it to its extreme point, that is, to\ndestruction. Therefore, the rear being endangered makes defeat more\nprobable, and, at the same time, more decisive.\n\nFrom this arises, in the whole conduct of the War, especially in great\nand small combats, a perfect instinct to secure our own line of retreat\nand to seize that of the enemy; this follows from the conception of\nvictory, which, as we have seen, is something beyond mere slaughter.\n\nIn this effort we see, therefore, the first immediate purpose in the\ncombat, and one which is quite universal. No combat is imaginable in\nwhich this effort, either in its double or single form, does not go\nhand in hand with the plain and simple stroke of force. Even the\nsmallest troop will not throw itself upon its enemy without thinking of\nits line of retreat, and, in most cases, it will have an eye upon that\nof the enemy also.\n\nWe should have to digress to show how often this instinct is prevented\nfrom going the direct road, how often it must yield to the difficulties\narising from more important considerations: we shall, therefore, rest\ncontented with affirming it to be a general natural law of the combat.\n\nIt is, therefore, active; presses everywhere with its natural weight,\nand so becomes the pivot on which almost all tactical and strategic\nman\u0153uvres turn.\n\nIf we now take a look at the conception of victory as a whole, we find\nin it three elements:\u2014\n\n1. The greater loss of the enemy in physical power.\n\n2. In moral power.\n\n3. His open avowal of this by the relinquishment of his intentions.\n\nThe returns made up on each side of losses in killed and wounded, are\nnever exact, seldom truthful, and in most cases, full of intentional\nmisrepresentations. Even the statement of the number of trophies is\nseldom to be quite depended on; consequently, when it is not\nconsiderable it may also cast a doubt even on the reality of the\nvictory. Of the loss in moral forces there is no reliable measure,\nexcept in the trophies: therefore, in many cases, the giving up the\ncontest is the only real evidence of the victory. It is, therefore, to\nbe regarded as a confession of inferiority\u2014as the lowering of the flag,\nby which, in this particular instance, right and superiority are\nconceded to the enemy, and this degree of humiliation and disgrace,\nwhich, however, must be distinguished from all the other moral\nconsequences of the loss of equilibrium, is an essential part of the\nvictory. It is this part alone which acts upon the public opinion\noutside the Army, upon the people and the Government in both\nbelligerent States, and upon all others in any way concerned.\n\nBut renouncement of the general object is not quite identical with\nquitting the field of battle, even when the battle has been very\nobstinate and long kept up; no one says of advanced posts, when they\nretire after an obstinate combat, that they have given up their object;\neven in combats aimed at the destruction of the enemy\u2019s Army, the\nretreat from the battlefield is not always to be regarded as a\nrelinquishment of this aim, as for instance, in retreats planned\nbeforehand, in which the ground is disputed foot by foot; all this\nbelongs to that part of our subject where we shall speak of the\nseparate object of the combat; here we only wish to draw attention to\nthe fact that in most cases the giving up of the object is very\ndifficult to distinguish from the retirement from the battlefield, and\nthat the impression produced by the latter, both in and out of the\nArmy, is not to be treated lightly.\n\nFor Generals and Armies whose reputation is not made, this is in itself\none of the difficulties in many operations, justified by circumstances\nwhen a succession of combats, each ending in retreat, may appear as a\nsuccession of defeats, without being so in reality, and when that\nappearance may exercise a very depressing influence. It is impossible\nfor the retreating General by making known his real intentions to\nprevent the moral effect spreading to the public and his troops, for to\ndo that with effect he must disclose his plans completely, which of\ncourse would run counter to his principal interests to too great a\ndegree.\n\nIn order to draw attention to the special importance of this conception\nof victory we shall only refer to the battle of Soor,(*) the trophies\nfrom which were not important (a few thousand prisoners and twenty\nguns), and where Frederick proclaimed his victory by remaining for five\ndays after on the field of battle, although his retreat into Silesia\nhad been previously determined on, and was a measure natural to his\nwhole situation. According to his own account, he thought he would\nhasten a peace by the moral effect of his victory. Now although a\ncouple of other successes were likewise required, namely, the battle at\nKatholisch Hennersdorf, in Lusatia, and the battle of Kesseldorf,\nbefore this peace took place, still we cannot say that the moral effect\nof the battle of Soor was _nil_.\n\n(*) Soor, or Sohr, Sept. 30, 1745; Hennersdorf, Nov. 23, 1745;\nKealteldorf, Dec. 15, 1745, all in the Second Silesian War.\n\n\nIf it is chiefly the moral force which is shaken by defeat, and if the\nnumber of trophies reaped by the enemy mounts up to an unusual height,\nthen the lost combat becomes a rout, but this is not the necessary\nconsequence of every victory. A rout only sets in when the moral force\nof the defeated is very severely shaken then there often ensues a\ncomplete incapability of further resistance, and the whole action\nconsists of giving way, that is of flight.\n\nJena and Belle Alliance were routs, but not so Borodino.\n\nAlthough without pedantry we can here give no single line of\nseparation, because the difference between the things is one of\ndegrees, yet still the retention of the conception is essential as a\ncentral point to give clearness to our theoretical ideas and it is a\nwant in our terminology that for a victory over the enemy tantamount to\na rout, and a conquest of the enemy only tantamount to a simple\nvictory, there is only one and the same word to use.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. On the Signification of the Combat\n\nHaving in the preceding chapter examined the combat in its absolute\nform, as the miniature picture of the whole War, we now turn to the\nrelations which it bears to the other parts of the great whole. First\nwe inquire what is more precisely the signification of a combat.\n\nAs War is nothing else but a mutual process of destruction, then the\nmost natural answer in conception, and perhaps also in reality, appears\nto be that all the powers of each party unite in one great volume and\nall results in one great shock of these masses. There is certainly much\ntruth in this idea, and it seems to be very advisable that we should\nadhere to it and should on that account look upon small combats at\nfirst only as necessary loss, like the shavings from a carpenter\u2019s\nplane. Still, however, the thing cannot be settled so easily.\n\nThat a multiplication of combats should arise from a fractioning of\nforces is a matter of course, and the more immediate objects of\nseparate combats will therefore come before us in the subject of a\nfractioning of forces; but these objects, and together with them, the\nwhole mass of combats may in a general way be brought under certain\nclasses, and the knowledge of these classes will contribute to make our\nobservations more intelligible.\n\nDestruction of the enemy\u2019s military forces is in reality the object of\nall combats; but other objects may be joined thereto, and these other\nobjects may be at the same time predominant; we must therefore draw a\ndistinction between those in which the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforces is the principal object, and those in which it is more the\nmeans. The destruction of the enemy\u2019s force, the possession of a place\nor the possession of some object may be the general motive for a\ncombat, and it may be either one of these alone or several together, in\nwhich case however usually one is the principal motive. Now the two\nprincipal forms of War, the offensive and defensive, of which we shall\nshortly speak, do not modify the first of these motives, but they\ncertainly do modify the other two, and therefore if we arrange them in\na scheme they would appear thus:\u2014\n\n     OFFENSIVE.                              DEFENSIVE. 1. Destruction\n     of enemy\u2019s force   1. Destruction of enemy\u2019s force. 2. Conquest of\n     a place.           2. Defence of a place. 3. Conquest of some\n     object.       3. Defence of some object.\n\nThese motives, however, do not seem to embrace completely the whole of\nthe subject, if we recollect that there are reconnaissances and\ndemonstrations, in which plainly none of these three points is the\nobject of the combat. In reality we must, therefore, on this account be\nallowed a fourth class. Strictly speaking, in reconnaissances in which\nwe wish the enemy to show himself, in alarms by which we wish to wear\nhim out, in demonstrations by which we wish to prevent his leaving some\npoint or to draw him off to another, the objects are all such as can\nonly be attained indirectly and _under the pretext of one of the three\nobjects specified in the table_, usually of the second; for the enemy\nwhose aim is to reconnoitre must draw up his force as if he really\nintended to attack and defeat us, or drive us off, &c. &c. But this\npretended object is not the real one, and our present question is only\nas to the latter; therefore, we must to the above three objects of the\noffensive further add a fourth, which is to lead the enemy to make a\nfalse conclusion. That offensive means are conceivable in connection\nwith this object, lies in the nature of the thing.\n\nOn the other hand we must observe that the defence of a place may be of\ntwo kinds, either absolute, if as a general question the point is not\nto be given up, or relative if it is only required for a certain time.\nThe latter happens perpetually in the combats of advanced posts and\nrear guards.\n\nThat the nature of these different intentions of a combat must have an\nessential influence on the dispositions which are its preliminaries, is\na thing clear in itself. We act differently if our object is merely to\ndrive an enemy\u2019s post out of its place from what we should if our\nobject was to beat him completely; differently, if we mean to defend a\nplace to the last extremity from what we should do if our design is\nonly to detain the enemy for a certain time. In the first case we\ntrouble ourselves little about the line of retreat, in the latter it is\nthe principal point, &c.\n\nBut these reflections belong properly to tactics, and are only\nintroduced here by way of example for the sake of greater clearness.\nWhat Strategy has to say on the different objects of the combat will\nappear in the chapters which touch upon these objects. Here we have\nonly a few general observations to make, first, that the importance of\nthe object decreases nearly in the order as they stand above,\ntherefore, that the first of these objects must always predominate in\nthe great battle; lastly, that the two last in a defensive battle are\nin reality such as yield no fruit, they are, that is to say, purely\nnegative, and can, therefore, only be serviceable, indirectly, by\nfacilitating something else which is positive. _It is, therefore, a bad\nsign of the strategic situation if battles of this kind become too\nfrequent._\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Duration of Combat\n\nIf we consider the combat no longer in itself but in relation to the\nother forces of War, then its duration acquires a special importance.\n\nThis duration is to be regarded to a certain extent as a second\nsubordinate success. For the conqueror the combat can never be finished\ntoo quickly, for the vanquished it can never last too long. A speedy\nvictory indicates a higher power of victory, a tardy decision is, on\nthe side of the defeated, some compensation for the loss.\n\nThis is in general true, but it acquires a practical importance in its\napplication to those combats, the object of which is a relative\ndefence.\n\nHere the whole success often lies in the mere duration. This is the\nreason why we have included it amongst the strategic elements.\n\nThe duration of a combat is necessarily bound up with its essential\nrelations. These relations are, absolute magnitude of force, relation\nof force and of the different arms mutually, and nature of the country.\nTwenty thousand men do not wear themselves out upon one another as\nquickly as two thousand: we cannot resist an enemy double or three\ntimes our strength as long as one of the same strength; a cavalry\ncombat is decided sooner than an infantry combat; and a combat between\ninfantry only, quicker than if there is artillery(*) as well; in hills\nand forests we cannot advance as quickly as on a level country; all\nthis is clear enough.\n\n(*) The increase in the relative range of artillery and the\nintroduction of shrapnel has altogether modified this conclusion.\n\n\nFrom this it follows, therefore, that strength, relation of the three\narms, and position, must be considered if the combat is to fulfil an\nobject by its duration; but to set up this rule was of less importance\nto us in our present considerations than to connect with it at once the\nchief results which experience gives us on the subject.\n\nEven the resistance of an ordinary Division of 8000 to 10,000 men of\nall arms even opposed to an enemy considerably superior in numbers,\nwill last several hours, if the advantages of country are not too\npreponderating, and if the enemy is only a little, or not at all,\nsuperior in numbers, the combat will last half a day. A Corps of three\nor four Divisions will prolong it to double the time; an Army of 80,000\nor 100,000 to three or four times. Therefore the masses may be left to\nthemselves for that length of time, and no separate combat takes place\nif within that time other forces can be brought up, whose co-operation\nmingles then at once into one stream with the results of the combat\nwhich has taken place.\n\nThese calculations are the result of experience; but it is important to\nus at the same time to characterise more particularly the moment of the\ndecision, and consequently the termination.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Decision of the Combat\n\nNo battle is decided in a single moment, although in every battle there\narise moments of crisis, on which the result depends. The loss of a\nbattle is, therefore, a gradual falling of the scale. But there is in\nevery combat a point of time (*)\n\n(*) Under the then existing conditions of armament understood. This\npoint is of supreme importance, as practically the whole conduct of a\ngreat battle depends on a correct solution of this question\u2014viz., How\nlong can a given command prolong its resistance? If this is incorrectly\nanswered in practice\u2014the whole man\u0153uvre depending on it may\ncollapse\u2014_e.g._, Kouroupatkin at Liao-Yang, September 1904.\n\n\nwhen it may be regarded as decided, in such a way that the renewal of\nthe fight would be a new battle, not a continuation of the old one. To\nhave a clear notion on this point of time, is very important, in order\nto be able to decide whether, with the prompt assistance of\nreinforcements, the combat can again be resumed with advantage.\n\nOften in combats which are beyond restoration new forces are sacrificed\nin vain; often through neglect the decision has not been seized when it\nmight easily have been secured. Here are two examples, which could not\nbe more to the point:\n\nWhen the Prince of Hohenlohe, in 1806, at Jena,(*) with 35,000 men\nopposed to from 60,000 to 70,000, under Buonaparte, had accepted\nbattle, and lost it\u2014but lost it in such a way that the 35,000 might be\nregarded as dissolved\u2014General R\u00fcchel undertook to renew the fight with\nabout 12,000; the consequence was that in a moment his force was\nscattered in like manner.\n\n(*) October 14, 1806.\n\n\nOn the other hand, on the same day at Auerstadt, the Prussians\nmaintained a combat with 25,000, against Davoust, who had 28,000, until\nmid-day, without success, it is true, but still without the force being\nreduced to a state of dissolution without even greater loss than the\nenemy, who was very deficient in cavalry;\u2014but they neglected to use the\nreserve of 18,000, under General Kalkreuth, to restore the battle\nwhich, under these circumstances, it would have been impossible to\nlose.\n\nEach combat is a whole in which the partial combats combine themselves\ninto one total result. In this total result lies the decision of the\ncombat. This success need not be exactly a victory such as we have\ndenoted in the sixth chapter, for often the preparations for that have\nnot been made, often there is no opportunity if the enemy gives way too\nsoon, and in most cases the decision, even when the resistance has been\nobstinate, takes place before such a degree of success is attained as\nwould completely satisfy the idea of a victory.\n\nWe therefore ask, Which is commonly the moment of the decision, that is\nto say, that moment when a fresh, effective, of course not\ndisproportionate, force, can no longer turn a disadvantageous battle?\n\nIf we pass over false attacks, which in accordance with their nature\nare properly without decision, then,\n\n1. If the possession of a movable object was the object of the combat,\nthe loss of the same is always the decision.\n\n2. If the possession of ground was the object of the combat, then the\ndecision generally lies in its loss. Still not always, only if this\nground is of peculiar strength, ground which is easy to pass over,\nhowever important it may be in other respects, can be re-taken without\nmuch danger.\n\n3. But in all other cases, when these two circumstances have not\nalready decided the combat, therefore, particularly in case the\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s force is the principal object, the decision\nis reached at that moment when the conqueror ceases to feel himself in\na state of disintegration, that is, of unserviceableness to a certain\nextent, when therefore, there is no further advantage in using the\nsuccessive efforts spoken of in the twelfth chapter of the third book.\nOn this ground we have given the strategic unity of the battle its\nplace here.\n\nA battle, therefore, in which the assailant has not lost his condition\nof order and perfect efficiency at all, or, at least, only in a small\npart of his force, whilst the opposing forces are, more or less,\ndisorganised throughout, is also not to be retrieved; and just as\nlittle if the enemy has recovered his efficiency.\n\nThe smaller, therefore, that part of a force is which has really been\nengaged, the greater that portion which as reserve has contributed to\nthe result only by its presence. So much the less will any new force of\nthe enemy wrest again the victory from our hands, and that Commander\nwho carries out to the furthest with his Army the principle of\nconducting the combat with the greatest economy of forces, and making\nthe most of the moral effect of strong reserves, goes the surest way to\nvictory. We must allow that the French, in modern times, especially\nwhen led by Buonaparte, have shown a thorough mastery in this.\n\nFurther, the moment when the crisis-stage of the combat ceases with the\nconqueror, and his original state of order is restored, takes place\nsooner the smaller the unit he controls. A picket of cavalry pursuing\nan enemy at full gallop will in a few minutes resume its proper order,\nand the crisis ceases. A whole regiment of cavalry requires a longer\ntime. It lasts still longer with infantry, if extended in single lines\nof skirmishers, and longer again with Divisions of all arms, when it\nhappens by chance that one part has taken one direction and another\npart another direction, and the combat has therefore caused a loss of\nthe order of formation, which usually becomes still worse from no part\nknowing exactly where the other is. Thus, therefore, the point of time\nwhen the conqueror has collected the instruments he has been using, and\nwhich are mixed up and partly out of order, the moment when he has in\nsome measure rearranged them and put them in their proper places, and\nthus brought the battle-workshop into a little order, this moment, we\nsay, is always later, the greater the total force.\n\nAgain, this moment comes later if night overtakes the conqueror in the\ncrisis, and, lastly, it comes later still if the country is broken and\nthickly wooded. But with regard to these two points, we must observe\nthat night is also a great means of protection, and it is only seldom\nthat circumstances favour the expectation of a successful result from a\nnight attack, as on March 10, 1814, at Laon,(*) where York against\nMarmont gives us an example completely in place here. In the same way a\nwooded and broken country will afford protection against a reaction to\nthose who are engaged in the long crisis of victory. Both, therefore,\nthe night as well as the wooded and broken country are obstacles which\nmake the renewal of the same battle more difficult instead of\nfacilitating it.\n\n(*) The celebrated charge at night upon Marmont\u2019s Corps.\n\n\nHitherto, we have considered assistance arriving for the losing side as\na mere increase of force, therefore, as a reinforcement coming up\ndirectly from the rear, which is the most usual case. But the case is\nquite different if these fresh forces come upon the enemy in flank or\nrear.\n\nOn the effect of flank or rear attacks so far as they belong to\nStrategy, we shall speak in another place: such a one as we have here\nin view, intended for the restoration of the combat, belongs chiefly to\ntactics, and is only mentioned because we are here speaking of tactical\nresults, our ideas, therefore, must trench upon the province of\ntactics.\n\nBy directing a force against the enemy\u2019s flank and rear its efficacy\nmay be much intensified; but this is so far from being a necessary\nresult always that the efficacy may, on the other hand, be just as much\nweakened. The circumstances under which the combat has taken place\ndecide upon this part of the plan as well as upon every other, without\nour being able to enter thereupon here. But, at the same time, there\nare in it two things of importance for our subject: first, _flank and\nrear attacks have, as a rule, a more favourable effect on the\nconsequences of the decision than upon the decision itself_. Now as\nconcerns the retrieving a battle, the first thing to be arrived at\nabove all is a favourable decision and not magnitude of success. In\nthis view one would therefore think that a force which comes to\nre-establish our combat is of less assistance if it falls upon the\nenemy in flank and rear, therefore separated from us, than if it joins\nitself to us directly; certainly, cases are not wanting where it is so,\nbut we must say that the majority are on the other side, and they are\nso on account of the second point which is here important to us.\n\nThis second point _is the moral effect of the surprise, which, as a\nrule, a reinforcement coming up to re-establish a combat has generally\nin its favour._ Now the effect of a surprise is always heightened if it\ntakes place in the flank or rear, and an enemy completely engaged in\nthe crisis of victory in his extended and scattered order, is less in a\nstate to counteract it. Who does not feel that an attack in flank or\nrear, which at the commencement of the battle, when the forces are\nconcentrated and prepared for such an event would be of little\nimportance, gains quite another weight in the last moment of the\ncombat.\n\nWe must, therefore, at once admit that in most cases a reinforcement\ncoming up on the flank or rear of the enemy will be more efficacious,\nwill be like the same weight at the end of a longer lever, and\ntherefore that under these circumstances, we may undertake to restore\nthe battle with the same force which employed in a direct attack would\nbe quite insufficient. Here results almost defy calculation, because\nthe moral forces gain completely the ascendency. This is therefore the\nright field for boldness and daring.\n\nThe eye must, therefore, be directed on all these objects, all these\nmoments of co-operating forces must be taken into consideration, when\nwe have to decide in doubtful cases whether or not it is still possible\nto restore a combat which has taken an unfavourable turn.\n\nIf the combat is to be regarded as not yet ended, then the new contest\nwhich is opened by the arrival of assistance fuses into the former;\ntherefore they flow together into one common result, and the first\ndisadvantage vanishes completely out of the calculation. But this is\nnot the case if the combat was already decided; then there are two\nresults separate from each other. Now if the assistance which arrives\nis only of a relative strength, that is, if it is not in itself alone a\nmatch for the enemy, then a favourable result is hardly to be expected\nfrom this second combat: but if it is so strong that it can undertake\nthe second combat without regard to the first, then it may be able by a\nfavourable issue to compensate or even overbalance the first combat,\nbut never to make it disappear altogether from the account.\n\nAt the battle of Kunersdorf,(*) Frederick the Great at the first onset\ncarried the left of the Russian position, and took seventy pieces of\nartillery; at the end of the battle both were lost again, and the whole\nresult of the first combat was wiped out of the account. Had it been\npossible to stop at the first success, and to put off the second part\nof the battle to the coming day, then, even if the King had lost it,\nthe advantages of the first would always have been a set off to the\nsecond.\n\n(*) August 12, 1759.\n\n\nBut when a battle proceeding disadvantageously is arrested and turned\nbefore its conclusion, its minus result on our side not only disappears\nfrom the account, but also becomes the foundation of a greater victory.\nIf, for instance, we picture to ourselves exactly the tactical course\nof the battle, we may easily see that until it is finally concluded all\nsuccesses in partial combats are only decisions in suspense, which by\nthe capital decision may not only be destroyed, but changed into the\nopposite. The more our forces have suffered, the more the enemy will\nhave expended on his side; the greater, therefore, will be the crisis\nfor the enemy, and the more the superiority of our fresh troops will\ntell. If now the total result turns in our favour, if we wrest from the\nenemy the field of battle and recover all the trophies again, then all\nthe forces which he has sacrificed in obtaining them become sheer gain\nfor us, and our former defeat becomes a stepping-stone to a greater\ntriumph. The most brilliant feats which with victory the enemy would\nhave so highly prized that the loss of forces which they cost would\nhave been disregarded, leave nothing now behind but regret at the\nsacrifice entailed. Such is the alteration which the magic of victory\nand the curse of defeat produces in the specific weight of the same\nelements.\n\nTherefore, even if we are decidedly superior in strength, and are able\nto repay the enemy his victory by a greater still, it is always better\nto forestall the conclusion of a disadvantageous combat, if it is of\nproportionate importance, so as to turn its course rather than to\ndeliver a second battle.\n\nField-Marshal Daun attempted in the year 1760 to come to the assistance\nof General Laudon at Leignitz, whilst the battle lasted; but when he\nfailed, he did not attack the King next day, although he did not want\nfor means to do so.\n\nFor these reasons serious combats of advance guards which precede a\nbattle are to be looked upon only as necessary evils, and when not\nnecessary they are to be avoided.(*)\n\n(*) This, however, was not Napoleon\u2019s view. A vigorous attack of his\nadvance guard he held to be necessary always, to fix the enemy\u2019s\nattention and \u201cparalyse his independent will-power.\u201d It was the failure\nto make this point which, in August 1870, led von Moltke repeatedly\ninto the very jaws of defeat, from which only the lethargy of Bazaine\non the one hand and the initiative of his subordinates, notably of von\nAlvensleben, rescued him. This is the essence of the new Strategic\nDoctrine of the French General Staff. See the works of Bonnal, Foch,\n&C.\u2014EDITOR\n\n\nWe have still another conclusion to examine.\n\nIf on a regular pitched battle, the decision has gone against one, this\ndoes not constitute a motive for determining on a new one. The\ndetermination for this new one must proceed from other relations. This\nconclusion, however, is opposed by a moral force, which we must take\ninto account: it is the feeling of rage and revenge. From the oldest\nField-Marshal to the youngest drummer-boy this feeling is general, and,\ntherefore, troops are never in better spirits for fighting than when\nthey have to wipe out a stain. This is, however, only on the\nsupposition that the beaten portion is not too great in proportion to\nthe whole, because otherwise the above feeling is lost in that of\npowerlessness.\n\nThere is therefore a very natural tendency to use this moral force to\nrepair the disaster on the spot, and on that account chiefly to seek\nanother battle if other circumstances permit. It then lies in the\nnature of the case that this second battle must be an offensive one.\n\nIn the catalogue of battles of second-rate importance there are many\nexamples to be found of such retaliatory battles; but great battles\nhave generally too many other determining causes to be brought on by\nthis weaker motive.\n\nSuch a feeling must undoubtedly have led the noble Bl\u00fccher with his\nthird Corps to the field of battle on February 14, 1814, when the other\ntwo had been beaten three days before at Montmirail. Had he known that\nhe would have come upon Buonaparte in person, then, naturally,\npreponderating reasons would have determined him to put off his revenge\nto another day: but he hoped to revenge himself on Marmont, and instead\nof gaining the reward of his desire for honourable satisfaction, he\nsuffered the penalty of his erroneous calculation.\n\nOn the duration of the combat and the moment of its decision depend the\ndistances from each other at which those masses should be placed which\nare intended to fight _in conjunction with_ each other. This\ndisposition would be a tactical arrangement in so far as it relates to\none and the same battle; it can, however, only be regarded as such,\nprovided the position of the troops is so compact that two separate\ncombats cannot be imagined, and consequently that the space which the\nwhole occupies can be regarded strategically as a mere point. But in\nWar, cases frequently occur where even those forces intended to fight\n_in unison_ must be so far separated from each other that while their\nunion for one common combat certainly remains the principal object,\nstill the occurrence of separate combats remains possible. Such a\ndisposition is therefore strategic.\n\nDispositions of this kind are: marches in separate masses and columns,\nthe formation of advance guards, and flanking columns, also the\ngrouping of reserves intended to serve as supports for more than one\nstrategic point; the concentration of several Corps from widely\nextended cantonments, &c. &c. We can see that the necessity for these\narrangements may constantly arise, and may consider them something like\nthe small change in the strategic economy, whilst the capital battles,\nand all that rank with them are the gold and silver pieces.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Mutual Understanding as to a Battle\n\nNo battle can take place unless by mutual consent; and in this idea,\nwhich constitutes the whole basis of a duel, is the root of a certain\nphraseology used by historical writers, which leads to many indefinite\nand false conceptions.\n\nAccording to the view of the writers to whom we refer, it has\nfrequently happened that one Commander has offered battle to the other,\nand the latter has not accepted it.\n\nBut the battle is a very modified duel, and its foundation is not\nmerely in the mutual wish to fight, that is in consent, but in the\nobjects which are bound up with the battle: these belong always to a\ngreater whole, and that so much the more, as even the whole war\nconsidered as a \u201ccombat-unit\u201d has political objects and conditions\nwhich belong to a higher standpoint. The mere desire to conquer each\nother therefore falls into quite a subordinate relation, or rather it\nceases completely to be anything of itself, and only becomes the nerve\nwhich conveys the impulse of action from the higher will.\n\nAmongst the ancients, and then again during the early period of\nstanding Armies, the expression that we had offered battle to the enemy\nin vain, had more sense in it than it has now. By the ancients\neverything was constituted with a view to measuring each other\u2019s\nstrength in the open field free from anything in the nature of a\nhindrance,(*) and the whole Art of War consisted in the organisation,\nand formation of the Army, that is in the order of battle.\n\n(*) Note the custom of sending formal challenges, fix time and place\nfor action, and \u201cenhazelug\u201d the battlefield in Anglo-Saxon times.\u2014ED.\n\n\nNow as their Armies regularly entrenched themselves in their camps,\ntherefore the position in a camp was regarded as something\nunassailable, and a battle did not become possible until the enemy left\nhis camp, and placed himself in a practicable country, as it were\nentered the lists.\n\nIf therefore we hear about Hannibal having offered battle to Fabius in\nvain, that tells us nothing more as regards the latter than that a\nbattle was not part of his plan, and in itself neither proves the\nphysical nor moral superiority of Hannibal; but with respect to him the\nexpression is still correct enough in the sense that Hannibal really\nwished a battle.\n\nIn the early period of modern Armies, the relations were similar in\ngreat combats and battles. That is to say, great masses were brought\ninto action, and managed throughout it by means of an order of battle,\nwhich like a great helpless whole required a more or less level plain\nand was neither suited to attack, nor yet to defence in a broken, close\nor even mountainous country. The defender therefore had here also to\nsome extent the means of avoiding battle. These relations although\ngradually becoming modified, continued until the first Silesian War,\nand it was not until the Seven Years\u2019 War that attacks on an enemy\nposted in a difficult country gradually became feasible, and of\nordinary occurrence: ground did not certainly cease to be a principle\nof strength to those making use of its aid, but it was no longer a\ncharmed circle, which shut out the natural forces of War.\n\nDuring the past thirty years War has perfected itself much more in this\nrespect, and there is no longer anything which stands in the way of a\nGeneral who is in earnest about a decision by means of battle; he can\nseek out his enemy, and attack him: if he does not do so he cannot take\ncredit for having wished to fight, and the expression he offered a\nbattle which his opponent did not accept, therefore now means nothing\nmore than that he did not find circumstances advantageous enough for a\nbattle, an admission which the above expression does not suit, but\nwhich it only strives to throw a veil over.\n\nIt is true the defensive side can no longer refuse a battle, yet he may\nstill avoid it by giving up his position, and the _r\u00f4le_ with which\nthat position was connected: this is however half a victory for the\noffensive side, and an acknowledgment of his superiority for the\npresent.\n\nThis idea in connection with the cartel of defiance can therefore no\nlonger be made use of in order by such rhodomontade to qualify the\ninaction of him whose part it is to advance, that is, the offensive.\nThe defender who as long as he does not give way, must have the credit\nof willing the battle, may certainly say, he has offered it if he is\nnot attacked, if that is not understood of itself.\n\nBut on the other hand, he who now wishes to, and can retreat cannot\neasily be forced to give battle. Now as the advantages to the aggressor\nfrom this retreat are often not sufficient, and a substantial victory\nis a matter of urgent necessity for him, in that way the few means\nwhich there are to compel such an opponent also to give battle are\noften sought for and applied with particular skill.\n\nThe principal means for this are\u2014first _surrounding_ the enemy so as to\nmake his retreat impossible, or at least so difficult that it is better\nfor him to accept battle; and, secondly, _surprising_ him. This last\nway, for which there was a motive formerly in the extreme difficulty of\nall movements, has become in modern times very inefficacious.\n\nFrom the pliability and manoeuvring capabilities of troops in the\npresent day, one does not hesitate to commence a retreat even in sight\nof the enemy, and only some special obstacles in the nature of the\ncountry can cause serious difficulties in the operation.\n\nAs an example of this kind the battle of Neresheim may be given, fought\nby the Archduke Charles with Moreau in the Rauhe Alp, August 11, 1796,\nmerely with a view to facilitate his retreat, although we freely\nconfess we have never been able quite to understand the argument of the\nrenowned general and author himself in this case.\n\nThe battle of Rosbach(*) is another example, if we suppose the\ncommander of the allied army had not really the intention of attacking\nFrederick the Great.\n\n(*) November 5, 1757.\n\n\nOf the battle of Soor,(*) the King himself says that it was only fought\nbecause a retreat in the presence of the enemy appeared to him a\ncritical operation; at the same time the King has also given other\nreasons for the battle.\n\n(*) Or Sohr, September 30, 1745.\n\n\nOn the whole, regular night surprises excepted, such cases will always\nbe of rare occurrence, and those in which an enemy is compelled to\nfight by being practically surrounded, will happen mostly to single\ncorps only, like Mortier\u2019s at D\u00fcrrenstein 1809, and Vandamme at Kulm,\n1813.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. The Battle(*)\n\n(*) Clausewitz still uses the word \u201cdie Hauptschlacht\u201d but modern usage\nemploys only the word \u201cdie Schlacht\u201d to designate the decisive act of a\nwhole campaign\u2014encounters arising from the collision or troops marching\ntowards the strategic culmination of each portion or the campaign are\nspoken of either as \u201cTreffen,\u201d _i.e._, \u201cengagements\u201d or \u201cGefecht,\u201d\n_i.e._, \u201ccombat\u201d or \u201caction.\u201d Thus technically, Gravelotte was a\n\u201cSchlacht,\u201d _i.e._, \u201cbattle,\u201d but Spicheren, Woerth, Borny, even\nVionville were only \u201cTreffen.\u201d\n\n\nITS DECISION\n\n\nWhat is a battle? A conflict of the main body, but not an unimportant\none about a secondary object, not a mere attempt which is given up when\nwe see betimes that our object is hardly within our reach: it is a\nconflict waged with all our forces for the attainment of a decisive\nvictory.\n\nMinor objects may also be mixed up with the principal object, and it\nwill take many different tones of colour from the circumstances out of\nwhich it originates, for a battle belongs also to a greater whole of\nwhich it is only a part, but because the essence of War is conflict,\nand the battle is the conflict of the main Armies, it is always to be\nregarded as the real centre of gravity of the War, and therefore its\ndistinguishing character is, that unlike all other encounters, it is\narranged for, and undertaken with the sole purpose of obtaining a\ndecisive victory.\n\nThis has an influence on the _manner of its decision_, on the _effect\nof the victory contained in it_, and determines _the value which theory\nis to assign to it as a means to an end._\n\nOn that account we make it the subject of our special consideration,\nand at this stage before we enter upon the special ends which may be\nbound up with it, but which do not essentially alter its character if\nit really deserves to be termed a battle.\n\nIf a battle takes place principally on its own account, the elements of\nits decision must be contained in itself; in other words, victory must\nbe striven for as long as a possibility or hope remains. It must not,\ntherefore, be given up on account of secondary circumstances, but only\nand alone in the event of the forces appearing completely insufficient.\n\nNow how is that precise moment to be described?\n\nIf a certain artificial formation and cohesion of an Army is the\nprincipal condition under which the bravery of the troops can gain a\nvictory, as was the case during a great part of the period of the\nmodern Art of War, _then the breaking up of this formation_ is the\ndecision. A beaten wing which is put out of joint decides the fate of\nall that was connected with it. If as was the case at another time the\nessence of the defence consists in an intimate alliance of the Army\nwith the ground on which it fights and its obstacles, so that Army and\nposition are only one, then the _conquest_ of _an essential point_ in\nthis position is the decision. It is said the key of the position is\nlost, it cannot therefore be defended any further; the battle cannot be\ncontinued. In both cases the beaten Armies are very much like the\nbroken strings of an instrument which cannot do their work.\n\nThat geometrical as well as this geographical principle which had a\ntendency to place an Army in a state of crystallising tension which did\nnot allow of the available powers being made use of up to the last man,\nhave at least so far lost their influence that they no longer\npredominate. Armies are still led into battle in a certain order, but\nthat order is no longer of decisive importance; obstacles of ground are\nalso still turned to account to strengthen a position, but they are no\nlonger the only support.\n\nWe attempted in the second chapter of this book to take a general view\nof the nature of the modern battle. According to our conception of it,\nthe order of battle is only a disposition of the forces suitable to the\nconvenient use of them, and the course of the battle a mutual slow\nwearing away of these forces upon one another, to see which will have\nsoonest exhausted his adversary.\n\nThe resolution therefore to give up the fight arises, in a battle more\nthan in any other combat, from the relation of the fresh reserves\nremaining available; for only these still retain all their moral\nvigour, and the cinders of the battered, knocked-about battalions,\nalready burnt out in the destroying element, must not be placed on a\nlevel with them; also lost ground as we have elsewhere said, is a\nstandard of lost moral force; it therefore comes also into account, but\nmore as a sign of loss suffered than for the loss itself, and the\nnumber of fresh reserves is always the chief point to be looked at by\nboth Commanders.\n\nIn general, an action inclines in one direction from the very\ncommencement, but in a manner little observable. This direction is also\nfrequently given in a very decided manner by the arrangements which\nhave been made previously, and then it shows a want of discernment in\nthat General who commences battle under these unfavourable\ncircumstances without being aware of them. Even when this does not\noccur it lies in the nature of things that the course of a battle\nresembles rather a slow disturbance of equilibrium which commences\nsoon, but as we have said almost imperceptibly at first, and then with\neach moment of time becomes stronger and more visible, than an\noscillating to and fro, as those who are misled by mendacious\ndescriptions usually suppose.\n\nBut whether it happens that the balance is for a long time little\ndisturbed, or that even after it has been lost on one side it rights\nitself again, and is then lost on the other side, it is certain at all\nevents that in most instances the defeated General foresees his fate\nlong before he retreats, and that cases in which some critical event\nacts with unexpected force upon the course of the whole have their\nexistence mostly in the colouring with which every one depicts his lost\nbattle.\n\nWe can only here appeal to the decision of unprejudiced men of\nexperience, who will, we are sure, assent to what we have said, and\nanswer for us to such of our readers as do not know War from their own\nexperience. To develop the necessity of this course from the nature of\nthe thing would lead us too far into the province of tactics, to which\nthis branch of the subject belongs; we are here only concerned with its\nresults.\n\nIf we say that the defeated General foresees the unfavourable result\nusually some time before he makes up his mind to give up the battle, we\nadmit that there are also instances to the contrary, because otherwise\nwe should maintain a proposition contradictory in itself. If at the\nmoment of each decisive tendency of a battle it should be considered as\nlost, then also no further forces should be used to give it a turn, and\nconsequently this decisive tendency could not precede the retreat by\nany length of time. Certainly there are instances of battles which\nafter having taken a decided turn to one side have still ended in\nfavour of the other; but they are rare, not usual; these exceptional\ncases, however, are reckoned upon by every General against whom fortune\ndeclares itself, and he must reckon upon them as long as there remains\na possibility of a turn of fortune. He hopes by stronger efforts, by\nraising the remaining moral forces, by surpassing himself, or also by\nsome fortunate chance that the next moment will bring a change, and\npursues this as far as his courage and his judgment can agree. We shall\nhave something more to say on this subject, but before that we must\nshow what are the signs of the scales turning.\n\nThe result of the whole combat consists in the sum total of the results\nof all partial combats; but these results of separate combats are\nsettled by different considerations.\n\nFirst by the pure moral power in the mind of the leading officers. If a\nGeneral of Division has seen his battalions forced to succumb, it will\nhave an influence on his demeanour and his reports, and these again\nwill have an influence on the measures of the Commander-in-Chief;\ntherefore even those unsuccessful partial combats which to all\nappearance are retrieved, are not lost in their results, and the\nimpressions from them sum themselves up in the mind of the Commander\nwithout much trouble, and even against his will.\n\nSecondly, by the quicker melting away of our troops, which can be\neasily estimated in the slow and relatively(*) little tumultuary course\nof our battles.\n\n(*) Relatively, that is say to the shock of former days.\n\n\nThirdly, by lost ground.\n\nAll these things serve for the eye of the General as a compass to tell\nthe course of the battle in which he is embarked. If whole batteries\nhave been lost and none of the enemy\u2019s taken; if battalions have been\noverthrown by the enemy\u2019s cavalry, whilst those of the enemy everywhere\npresent impenetrable masses; if the line of fire from his order of\nbattle wavers involuntarily from one point to another; if fruitless\nefforts have been made to gain certain points, and the assaulting\nbattalions each, time been scattered by well-directed volleys of grape\nand case;\u2014if our artillery begins to reply feebly to that of the\nenemy\u2014if the battalions under fire diminish unusually, fast, because\nwith the wounded crowds of unwounded men go to the rear;\u2014if single\nDivisions have been cut off and made prisoners through the disruption\nof the plan of the battle;\u2014if the line of retreat begins to be\nendangered: the Commander may tell very well in which direction he is\ngoing with his battle. The longer this direction continues, the more\ndecided it becomes, so much the more difficult will be the turning, so\nmuch the nearer the moment when he must give up the battle. We shall\nnow make some observations on this moment.\n\nWe have already said more than once that the final decision is ruled\nmostly by the relative number of the fresh reserves remaining at the\nlast; that Commander who sees his adversary is decidedly superior to\nhim in this respect makes up his mind to retreat. It is the\ncharacteristic of modern battles that all mischances and losses which\ntake place in the course of the same can be retrieved by fresh forces,\nbecause the arrangement of the modern order of battle, and the way in\nwhich troops are brought into action, allow of their use almost\ngenerally, and in each position. So long, therefore, as that Commander\nagainst whom the issue seems to declare itself still retains a\nsuperiority in reserve force, he will not give up the day. But from the\nmoment that his reserves begin to become weaker than his enemy\u2019s, the\ndecision may be regarded as settled, and what he now does depends\npartly on special circumstances, partly on the degree of courage and\nperseverance which he personally possesses, and which may degenerate\ninto foolish obstinacy. How a Commander can attain to the power of\nestimating correctly the still remaining reserves on both sides is an\naffair of skilful practical genius, which does not in any way belong to\nthis place; we keep ourselves to the result as it forms itself in his\nmind. But this conclusion is still not the moment of decision properly,\nfor a motive which only arises gradually does not answer to that, but\nis only a general motive towards resolution, and the resolution itself\nrequires still some special immediate causes. Of these there are two\nchief ones which constantly recur, that is, the danger of retreat, and\nthe arrival of night.\n\nIf the retreat with every new step which the battle takes in its course\nbecomes constantly in greater danger, and if the reserves are so much\ndiminished that they are no longer adequate to get breathing room, then\nthere is nothing left but to submit to fate, and by a well-conducted\nretreat to save what, by a longer delay ending in flight and disaster,\nwould be lost.\n\nBut night as a rule puts an end to all battles, because a night combat\nholds out no hope of advantage except under particular circumstances;\nand as night is better suited for a retreat than the day, so,\ntherefore, the Commander who must look at the retreat as a thing\ninevitable, or as most probable, will prefer to make use of the night\nfor his purpose.\n\nThat there are, besides the above two usual and chief causes, yet many\nothers also, which are less or more individual and not to be\noverlooked, is a matter of course; for the more a battle tends towards\na complete upset of equilibrium the more sensible is the influence of\neach partial result in hastening the turn. Thus the loss of a battery,\na successful charge of a couple of regiments of cavalry, may call into\nlife the resolution to retreat already ripening.\n\nAs a conclusion to this subject, we must dwell for a moment on the\npoint at which the courage of the Commander engages in a sort of\nconflict with his reason.\n\nIf, on the one hand the overbearing pride of a victorious conqueror, if\nthe inflexible will of a naturally obstinate spirit, if the strenuous\nresistance of noble feelings will not yield the battlefield, where they\nmust leave their honour, yet on the other hand, reason counsels not to\ngive up everything, not to risk the last upon the game, but to retain\nas much over as is necessary for an orderly retreat. However highly we\nmust esteem courage and firmness in War, and however little prospect\nthere is of victory to him who cannot resolve to seek it by the\nexertion of all his power, still there is a point beyond which\nperseverance can only be termed desperate folly, and therefore can meet\nwith no approbation from any critic. In the most celebrated of all\nbattles, that of Belle-Alliance, Buonaparte used his last reserve in an\neffort to retrieve a battle which was past being retrieved. He spent\nhis last farthing, and then, as a beggar, abandoned both the\nbattle-field and his crown.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Effects of Victory\n\nAccording to the point from which our view is taken, we may feel as\nmuch astonished at the extraordinary results of some great battles as\nat the want of results in others. We shall dwell for a moment on the\nnature of the effect of a great victory.\n\nThree things may easily be distinguished here: the effect upon the\ninstrument itself, that is, upon the Generals and their Armies; the\neffect upon the States interested in the War; and the particular result\nof these effects as manifested in the subsequent course of the\ncampaign.\n\nIf we only think of the trifling difference which there usually is\nbetween victor and vanquished in killed, wounded, prisoners, and\nartillery lost on the field of battle itself, the consequences which\nare developed out of this insignificant point seem often quite\nincomprehensible, and yet, usually, everything only happens quite\nnaturally.\n\nWe have already said in the seventh chapter that the magnitude of a\nvictory increases not merely in the same measure as the vanquished\nforces increase in number, but in a higher ratio. The moral effects\nresulting from the issue of a great battle are greater on the side of\nthe conquered than on that of the conqueror: they lead to greater\nlosses in physical force, which then in turn react on the moral\nelement, and so they go on mutually supporting and intensifying each\nother. On this moral effect we must therefore lay special weight. It\ntakes an opposite direction on the one side from that on the other; as\nit undermines the energies of the conquered so it elevates the powers\nand energy of the conqueror. But its chief effect is upon the\nvanquished, because here it is the direct cause of fresh losses, and\nbesides it is homogeneous in nature with danger, with the fatigues, the\nhardships, and generally with all those embarrassing circumstances by\nwhich War is surrounded, therefore enters into league with them and\nincreases by their help, whilst with the conqueror all these things are\nlike weights which give a higher swing to his courage. It is therefore\nfound, that the vanquished sinks much further below the original line\nof equilibrium than the conqueror raises himself above it; on this\naccount, if we speak of the effects of victory we allude more\nparticularly to those which manifest themselves in the army. If this\neffect is more powerful in an important combat than in a smaller one,\nso again it is much more powerful in a great battle than in a minor\none. The great battle takes place for the sake of itself, for the sake\nof the victory which it is to give, and which is sought for with the\nutmost effort. Here on this spot, in this very hour, to conquer the\nenemy is the purpose in which the plan of the War with all its threads\nconverges, in which all distant hopes, all dim glimmerings of the\nfuture meet, fate steps in before us to give an answer to the bold\nquestion.\u2014This is the state of mental tension not only of the Commander\nbut of his whole Army down to the lowest waggon-driver, no doubt in\ndecreasing strength but also in decreasing importance.\n\nAccording to the nature of the thing, a great battle has never at any\ntime been an unprepared, unexpected, blind routine service, but a grand\nact, which, partly of itself and partly from the aim of the Commander,\nstands out from amongst the mass of ordinary efforts, sufficiently to\nraise the tension of all minds to a higher degree. But the higher this\ntension with respect to the issue, the more powerful must be the effect\nof that issue.\n\nAgain, the moral effect of victory in our battles is greater than it\nwas in the earlier ones of modern military history. If the former are\nas we have depicted them, a real struggle of forces to the utmost, then\nthe sum total of all these forces, of the physical as well as the\nmoral, must decide more than certain special dispositions or mere\nchance.\n\nA single fault committed may be repaired next time; from good fortune\nand chance we can hope for more favour on another occasion; but the sum\ntotal of moral and physical powers cannot be so quickly altered, and,\ntherefore, what the award of a victory has decided appears of much\ngreater importance for all futurity. Very probably, of all concerned in\nbattles, whether in or out of the Army, very few have given a thought\nto this difference, but the course of the battle itself impresses on\nthe minds of all present in it such a conviction, and the relation of\nthis course in public documents, however much it may be coloured by\ntwisting particular circumstances, shows also, more or less, to the\nworld at large that the causes were more of a general than of a\nparticular nature.\n\nHe who has not been present at the loss of a great battle will have\ndifficulty in forming for himself a living or quite true idea of it,\nand the abstract notions of this or that small untoward affair will\nnever come up to the perfect conception of a lost battle. Let us stop a\nmoment at the picture.\n\nThe first thing which overpowers the imagination\u2014and we may indeed say,\nalso the understanding\u2014is the diminution of the masses; then the loss\nof ground, which takes place always, more or less, and, therefore, on\nthe side of the assailant also, if he is not fortunate; then the\nrupture of the original formation, the jumbling together of troops, the\nrisks of retreat, which, with few exceptions may always be seen\nsometimes in a less sometimes in a greater degree; next the retreat,\nthe most part of which commences at night, or, at least, goes on\nthroughout the night. On this first march we must at once leave behind,\na number of men completely worn out and scattered about, often just the\nbravest, who have been foremost in the fight who held out the longest:\nthe feeling of being conquered, which only seized the superior officers\non the battlefield, now spreads through all ranks, even down to the\ncommon soldiers, aggravated by the horrible idea of being obliged to\nleave in the enemy\u2019s hands so many brave comrades, who but a moment\nsince were of such value to us in the battle, and aggravated by a\nrising distrust of the chief, to whom, more or less, every subordinate\nattributes as a fault the fruitless efforts he has made; and this\nfeeling of being conquered is no ideal picture over which one might\nbecome master; it is an evident truth that the enemy is superior to us;\na truth of which the causes might have been so latent before that they\nwere not to be discovered, but which, in the issue, comes out clear and\npalpable, or which was also, perhaps, before suspected, but which in\nthe want of any certainty, we had to oppose by the hope of chance,\nreliance on good fortune, Providence or a bold attitude. Now, all this\nhas proved insufficient, and the bitter truth meets us harsh and\nimperious.\n\nAll these feelings are widely different from a panic, which in an army\nfortified by military virtue never, and in any other, only\nexceptionally, follows the loss of a battle. They must arise even in\nthe best of Armies, and although long habituation to War and victory\ntogether with great confidence in a Commander may modify them a little\nhere and there, they are never entirely wanting in the first moment.\nThey are not the pure consequences of lost trophies; these are usually\nlost at a later period, and the loss of them does not become generally\nknown so quickly; they will therefore not fail to appear even when the\nscale turns in the slowest and most gradual manner, and they constitute\nthat effect of a victory upon which we can always count in every case.\n\nWe have already said that the number of trophies intensifies this\neffect.\n\nIt is evident that an Army in this condition, looked at as an\ninstrument, is weakened! How can we expect that when reduced to such a\ndegree that, as we said before, it finds new enemies in all the\nordinary difficulties of making War, it will be able to recover by\nfresh efforts what has been lost! Before the battle there was a real or\nassumed equilibrium between the two sides; this is lost, and,\ntherefore, some external assistance is requisite to restore it; every\nnew effort without such external support can only lead to fresh losses.\n\nThus, therefore, the most moderate victory of the chief Army must tend\nto cause a constant sinking of the scale on the opponent\u2019s side, until\nnew external circumstances bring about a change. If these are not near,\nif the conqueror is an eager opponent, who, thirsting for glory,\npursues great aims, then a first-rate Commander, and in the beaten Army\na true military spirit, hardened by many campaigns are required, in\norder to stop the swollen stream of prosperity from bursting all\nbounds, and to moderate its course by small but reiterated acts of\nresistance, until the force of victory has spent itself at the goal of\nits career.\n\nAnd now as to the effect of defeat beyond the Army, upon the Nation and\nGovernment! It is the sudden collapse of hopes stretched to the utmost,\nthe downfall of all self-reliance. In place of these extinct forces,\nfear, with its destructive properties of expansion, rushes into the\nvacuum left, and completes the prostration. It is a real shock upon the\nnerves, which one of the two athletes receives from the electric spark\nof victory. And that effect, however different in its degrees, is never\ncompletely wanting. Instead of every one hastening with a spirit of\ndetermination to aid in repairing the disaster, every one fears that\nhis efforts will only be in vain, and stops, hesitating with himself,\nwhen he should rush forward; or in despondency he lets his arm drop,\nleaving everything to fate.\n\nThe consequence which this effect of victory brings forth in the course\nof the War itself depend in part on the character and talent of the\nvictorious General, but more on the circumstances from which the\nvictory proceeds, and to which it leads. Without boldness and an\nenterprising spirit on the part of the leader, the most brilliant\nvictory will lead to no great success, and its force exhausts itself\nall the sooner on circumstances, if these offer a strong and stubborn\nopposition to it. How very differently from Daun, Frederick the Great\nwould have used the victory at Kollin; and what different consequences\nFrance, in place of Prussia, might have given a battle of Leuthen!\n\nThe conditions which allow us to expect great results from a great\nvictory we shall learn when we come to the subjects with which they are\nconnected; then it will be possible to explain the disproportion which\nappears at first sight between the magnitude of a victory and its\nresults, and which is only too readily attributed to a want of energy\non the part of the conqueror. Here, where we have to do with the great\nbattle in itself, we shall merely say that the effects now depicted\nnever fail to attend a victory, that they mount up with the intensive\nstrength of the victory\u2014mount up more the more the whole strength of\nthe Army has been concentrated in it, the more the whole military power\nof the Nation is contained in that Army, and the State in that military\npower.\n\nBut then the question may be asked, Can theory accept this effect of\nvictory as absolutely necessary?\u2014must it not rather endeavour to find\nout counteracting means capable of neutralising these effects? It seems\nquite natural to answer this question in the affirmative; but heaven\ndefend us from taking that wrong course of most theories, out of which\nis begotten a mutually devouring _Pro et Contra_.\n\nCertainly that effect is perfectly necessary, for it has its foundation\nin the nature of things, and it exists, even if we find means to\nstruggle against it; just as the motion of a cannon ball is always in\nthe direction of the terrestrial, although when fired from east to west\npart of the general velocity is destroyed by this opposite motion.\n\nAll War supposes human weakness, and against that it is directed.\n\nTherefore, if hereafter in another place we examine what is to be done\nafter the loss of a great battle, if we bring under review the\nresources which still remain, even in the most desperate cases, if we\nshould express a belief in the possibility of retrieving all, even in\nsuch a case; it must not be supposed we mean thereby that the effects\nof such a defeat can by degrees be completely wiped out, for the forces\nand means used to repair the disaster might have been applied to the\nrealisation of some positive object; and this applies both to the moral\nand physical forces.\n\nAnother question is, whether, through the loss of a great battle,\nforces are not perhaps roused into existence, which otherwise would\nnever have come to life. This case is certainly conceivable, and it is\nwhat has actually occurred with many Nations. But to produce this\nintensified reaction is beyond the province of military art, which can\nonly take account of it where it might be assumed as a possibility.\n\nIf there are cases in which the fruits of a victory appear rather of a\ndestructive nature in consequence of the reaction of the forces which\nit had the effect of rousing into activity\u2014cases which certainly are\nvery exceptional\u2014then it must the more surely be granted, that there is\na difference in the effects which one and the same victory may produce\naccording to the character of the people or state, which has been\nconquered.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. The Use of the Battle\n\nWhatever form the conduct of War may take in particular cases, and\nwhatever we may have to admit in the sequel as necessary respecting it:\nwe have only to refer to the conception of War to be convinced of what\nfollows:\n\n1. The destruction of the enemy\u2019s military force, is the leading\nprinciple of War, and for the whole chapter of positive action the\ndirect way to the object.\n\n2. This destruction of the enemy\u2019s force, must be principally effected\nby means of battle.\n\n3. Only great and general battles can produce great results.\n\n4. The results will be greatest when combats unite themselves in one\ngreat battle.\n\n5. It is only in a great battle that the General-in-Chief commands in\nperson, and it is in the nature of things, that he should place more\nconfidence in himself than in his subordinates.\n\nFrom these truths a double law follows, the parts of which mutually\nsupport each other; namely, that the destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nmilitary force is to be sought for principally by great battles, and\ntheir results; and that the chief object of great battles must be the\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s military force.\n\nNo doubt the annihilation-principle is to be found more or less in\nother means\u2014granted there are instances in which through favourable\ncircumstances in a minor combat, the destruction of the enemy\u2019s forces\nhas been disproportionately great (Maxen), and on the other hand in a\nbattle, the taking or holding a single post may be predominant in\nimportance as an object\u2014but as a general rule it remains a paramount\ntruth, that battles are only fought with a view to the destruction of\nthe enemy\u2019s Army, and that this destruction can only be effected by\ntheir means.\n\nThe battle may therefore be regarded as War concentrated, as the centre\nof effort of the whole War or campaign. As the sun\u2019s rays unite in the\nfocus of the concave mirror in a perfect image, and in the fulness of\ntheir heat; to the forces and circumstances of War, unite in a focus in\nthe great battle for one concentrated utmost effort.\n\nThe very assemblage of forces in one great whole, which takes place\nmore or less in all Wars, indicates an intention to strike a decisive\nblow with this whole, either voluntarily as assailant, or constrained\nby the opposite party as defender. When this great blow does not\nfollow, then some modifying, and retarding motives have attached\nthemselves to the original motive of hostility, and have weakened,\naltered or completely checked the movement. But also, even in this\ncondition of mutual inaction which has been the key-note in so many\nWars, the idea of a possible battle serves always for both parties as a\npoint of direction, a distant focus in the construction of their plans.\nThe more War is War in earnest, the more it is a venting of animosity\nand hostility, a mutual struggle to overpower, so much the more will\nall activities join deadly contest, and also the more prominent in\nimportance becomes the battle.\n\nIn general, when the object aimed at is of a great and positive nature,\none therefore in which the interests of the enemy are deeply concerned,\nthe battle offers itself as the most natural means; it is, therefore,\nalso the best as we shall show more plainly hereafter: and, as a rule,\nwhen it is evaded from aversion to the great decision, punishment\nfollows.\n\nThe positive object belong to the offensive, and therefore the battle\nis also more particularly his means. But without examining the\nconception of offensive and defensive more minutely here, we must still\nobserve that, even for the defender in most cases, there is no other\neffectual means with which to meet the exigencies of his situation, to\nsolve the problem presented to him.\n\nThe battle is the bloodiest way of solution. True, it is not merely\nreciprocal slaughter, and its effect is more a killing of the enemy\u2019s\ncourage than of the enemy\u2019s soldiers, as we shall see more plainly in\nthe next chapter\u2014but still blood is always its price, and slaughter its\ncharacter as well as name;(*) from this the humanity in the General\u2019s\nmind recoils with horror.\n\n(*) \u201c_Schlacht_\u201d, from schlachten = to slaughter.\n\n\nBut the soul of the man trembles still more at the thought of the\ndecision to be given with one single blow. _in one point_ of space and\ntime all action is here pressed together, and at such a moment there is\nstirred up within us a dim feeling as if in this narrow space all our\nforces could not develop themselves and come into activity, as if we\nhad already gained much by mere time, although this time owes us\nnothing at all. This is all mere illusion, but even as illusion it is\nsomething, and the same weakness which seizes upon the man in every\nother momentous decision may well be felt more powerfully by the\nGeneral, when he must stake interests of such enormous weight upon one\nventure.\n\nThus, then, Statesmen and Generals have at all times endeavoured to\navoid the decisive battle, seeking either to attain their aim without\nit, or dropping that aim unperceived. Writers on history and theory\nhave then busied themselves to discover in some other feature in these\ncampaigns not only an equivalent for the decision by battle which has\nbeen avoided, but even a higher art. In this way, in the present age,\nit came very near to this, that a battle in the economy of War was\nlooked upon as an evil, rendered necessary through some error\ncommitted, a morbid paroxysm to which a regular prudent system of War\nwould never lead: only those Generals were to deserve laurels who knew\nhow to carry on War without spilling blood, and the theory of War\u2014a\nreal business for Brahmins\u2014was to be specially directed to teaching\nthis.\n\nContemporary history has destroyed this illusion,(*) but no one can\nguarantee that it will not sooner or later reproduce itself, and lead\nthose at the head of affairs to perversities which please man\u2019s\nweakness, and therefore have the greater affinity for his nature.\nPerhaps, by-and-by, Buonaparte\u2019s campaigns and battles will be looked\nupon as mere acts of barbarism and stupidity, and we shall once more\nturn with satisfaction and confidence to the dress-sword of obsolete\nand musty institutions and forms. If theory gives a caution against\nthis, then it renders a real service to those who listen to its warning\nvoice. _May we succeed in lending a hand to those who in our dear\nnative land are called upon to speak with authority on these matters,\nthat we may be their guide into this field of inquiry, and excite them\nto make a candid examination of the subject_.(**)\n\n(*) On the Continent only, it still preserves full vitality in the\nminds of British politicians and pressmen.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n(**) This prayer was abundantly granted\u2014_vide_ the German victories of\n1870.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nNot only the conception of War but experience also leads us to look for\na great decision only in a great battle. From time immemorial, only\ngreat victories have led to great successes on the offensive side in\nthe absolute form, on the defensive side in a manner more or less\nsatisfactory. Even Buonaparte would not have seen the day of Ulm,\nunique in its kind, if he had shrunk from shedding blood; it is rather\nto be regarded as only a second crop from the victorious events in his\npreceding campaigns. It is not only bold, rash, and presumptuous\nGenerals who have sought to complete their work by the great venture of\na decisive battle, but also fortunate ones as well; and we may rest\nsatisfied with the answer which they have thus given to this vast\nquestion.\n\nLet us not hear of Generals who conquer without bloodshed. If a bloody\nslaughter is a horrible sight, then that is a ground for paying more\nrespect to War, but not for making the sword we wear blunter and\nblunter by degrees from feelings of humanity, until some one steps in\nwith one that is sharp and lops off the arm from our body.\n\nWe look upon a great battle as a principal decision, but certainly not\nas the only one necessary for a War or a campaign. Instances of a great\nbattle deciding a whole campaign, have been frequent only in modern\ntimes, those which have decided a whole War, belong to the class of\nrare exceptions.\n\nA decision which is brought about by a great battle depends naturally\nnot on the battle itself, that is on the mass of combatants engaged in\nit, and on the intensity of the victory, but also on a number of other\nrelations between the military forces opposed to each other, and\nbetween the States to which these forces belong. But at the same time\nthat the principal mass of the force available is brought to the great\nduel, a great decision is also brought on, the extent of which may\nperhaps be foreseen in many respects, though not in all, and which\nalthough not the only one, still is the _first_ decision, and as such,\nhas an influence on those which succeed. Therefore a deliberately\nplanned great battle, according to its relations, is more or less, but\nalways in some degree, to be regarded as the leading means and central\npoint of the whole system. The more a General takes the field in the\ntrue spirit of War as well as of every contest, with the feeling and\nthe idea, that is the conviction, that he must and will conquer, the\nmore he will strive to throw every weight into the scale in the first\nbattle, hope and strive to win everything by it. Buonaparte hardly ever\nentered upon a War without thinking of conquering his enemy at once in\nthe first battle,(*) and Frederick the Great, although in a more\nlimited sphere, and with interests of less magnitude at stake, thought\nthe same when, at the head of a small Army, he sought to disengage his\nrear from the Russians or the Federal Imperial Army.\n\n(*) This was Moltke\u2019s essential idea in his preparations for the War of\n1870. See his secret memorandum issued to G.O.C.s on May 7. 1870,\npointing to a battle on the Upper Saar as his primary purpose.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nThe decision which is given by the great battle, depends, we have said,\npartly on the battle itself, that is on the number of troops engaged,\nand partly on the magnitude of the success.\n\nHow the General may increase its importance in respect to the first\npoint is evident in itself and we shall merely observe that according\nto the importance of the great battle, the number of cases which are\ndecided along with it increases, and that therefore Generals who,\nconfident in themselves have been lovers of great decisions, have\nalways managed to make use of the greater part of their troops in it\nwithout neglecting on that account essential points elsewhere.\n\nAs regards the consequences or speaking more correctly the\neffectiveness of a victory, that depends chiefly on four points:\n\n1. On the tactical form adopted as the order of battle.\n\n2. On the nature of the country.\n\n3. On the relative proportions of the three arms.\n\n4. On the relative strength of the two Armies.\n\nA battle with parallel fronts and without any action against a flank\nwill seldom yield as great success as one in which the defeated Army\nhas been turned, or compelled to change front more or less. In a broken\nor hilly country the successes are likewise smaller, because the power\nof the blow is everywhere less.\n\nIf the cavalry of the vanquished is equal or superior to that of the\nvictor, then the effects of the pursuit are diminished, and by that\ngreat part of the results of victory are lost.\n\nFinally it is easy to understand that if superior numbers are on the\nside of the conqueror, and he uses his advantage in that respect to\nturn the flank of his adversary, or compel him to change front, greater\nresults will follow than if the conqueror had been weaker in numbers\nthan the vanquished. The battle of Leuthen may certainly be quoted as a\npractical refutation of this principle, but we beg permission for once\nto say what we otherwise do not like, _no rule without an exception._\n\nIn all these ways, therefore, the Commander has the means of giving his\nbattle a decisive character; certainly he thus exposes himself to an\nincreased amount of danger, but his whole line of action is subject to\nthat dynamic law of the moral world.\n\nThere is then nothing in War which can be put in comparison with the\ngreat battle in point of importance, _and the acme of strategic ability\nis displayed in the provision of means for this great event, in the\nskilful determination of place and time, and direction of troops, and\nin the good use made of success._\n\nBut it does not follow from the importance of these things that they\nmust be of a very complicated and recondite nature; all is here rather\nsimple, the art of combination by no means great; but there is great\nneed of quickness in judging of circumstances, need of energy, steady\nresolution, a youthful spirit of enterprise\u2014heroic qualities, to which\nwe shall often have to refer. There is, therefore, but little wanted\nhere of that which can be taught by books and there is much that, if it\ncan be taught at all, must come to the General through some other\nmedium than printer\u2019s type.\n\nThe impulse towards a great battle, the voluntary, sure progress to it,\nmust proceed from a feeling of innate power and a clear sense of the\nnecessity; in other words, it must proceed from inborn courage and from\nperceptions sharpened by contact with the higher interests of life.\n\nGreat examples are the best teachers, but it is certainly a misfortune\nif a cloud of theoretical prejudices comes between, for even the\nsunbeam is refracted and tinted by the clouds. To destroy such\nprejudices, which many a time rise and spread themselves like a miasma,\nis an imperative duty of theory, for the misbegotten offspring of human\nreason can also be in turn destroyed by pure reason.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Strategic Means of Utilising Victory\n\nThe more difficult part, viz., that of perfectly preparing the victory,\nis a silent service of which the merit belongs to Strategy and yet for\nwhich it is hardly sufficiently commended. It appears brilliant and\nfull of renown by turning to good account a victory gained.\n\nWhat may be the special object of a battle, how it is connected with\nthe whole system of a War, whither the career of victory may lead\naccording to the nature of circumstances, where its culminating-point\nlies\u2014all these are things which we shall not enter upon until\nhereafter. But under any conceivable circumstances the fact holds good,\nthat without a pursuit no victory can have a great effect, and that,\nhowever short the career of victory may be, it must always lead beyond\nthe first steps in pursuit; and in order to avoid the frequent\nrepetition of this, we shall now dwell for a moment on this necessary\nsupplement of victory in general.\n\nThe pursuit of a beaten Army commences at the moment that Army, giving\nup the combat, leaves its position; all previous movements in one\ndirection and another belong not to that but to the progress of the\nbattle itself. Usually victory at the moment here described, even if it\nis certain, is still as yet small and weak in its proportions, and\nwould not rank as an event of any great positive advantage if not\ncompleted by a pursuit on the first day. Then it is mostly, as we have\nbefore said, that the trophies which give substance to the victory\nbegin to be gathered up. Of this pursuit we shall speak in the next\nplace.\n\nUsually both sides come into action with their physical powers\nconsiderably deteriorated, for the movements immediately preceding have\ngenerally the character of very urgent circumstances. The efforts which\nthe forging out of a great combat costs, complete the exhaustion; from\nthis it follows that the victorious party is very little less\ndisorganised and out of his original formation than the vanquished, and\ntherefore requires time to reform, to collect stragglers, and issue\nfresh ammunition to those who are without. All these things place the\nconqueror himself in the state of crisis of which we have already\nspoken. If now the defeated force is only a detached portion of the\nenemy\u2019s Army, or if it has otherwise to expect a considerable\nreinforcement, then the conqueror may easily run into the obvious\ndanger of having to pay dear for his victory, and this consideration,\nin such a case, very soon puts an end to pursuit, or at least restricts\nit materially. Even when a strong accession of force by the enemy is\nnot to be feared, the conqueror finds in the above circumstances a\npowerful check to the vivacity of his pursuit. There is no reason to\nfear that the victory will be snatched away, but adverse combats are\nstill possible, and may diminish the advantages which up to the present\nhave been gained. Moreover, at this moment the whole weight of all that\nis sensuous in an Army, its wants and weaknesses, are dependent on the\nwill of the Commander. All the thousands under his command require rest\nand refreshment, and long to see a stop put to toil and danger for the\npresent; only a few, forming an exception, can see and feel beyond the\npresent moment, it is only amongst this little number that there is\nsufficient mental vigour to think, after what is absolutely necessary\nat the moment has been done, upon those results which at such a moment\nonly appear to the rest as mere embellishments of victory\u2014as a luxury\nof triumph. But all these thousands have a voice in the council of the\nGeneral, for through the various steps of the military hierarchy these\ninterests of the sensuous creature have their sure conductor into the\nheart of the Commander. He himself, through mental and bodily fatigue,\nis more or less weakened in his natural activity, and thus it happens\nthen that, mostly from these causes, purely incidental to human nature,\nless is done than might have been done, and that generally what is done\nis to be ascribed entirely to the _thirst for glory_, the _energy_,\nindeed also the _hard-heartedness_ of the General-in-Chief. It is only\nthus we can explain the hesitating manner in which many Generals follow\nup a victory which superior numbers have given them. The first pursuit\nof the enemy we limit in general to the extent of the first day,\nincluding the night following the victory. At the end of that period\nthe necessity of rest ourselves prescribes a halt in any case.\n\nThis first pursuit has different natural degrees.\n\nThe first is, if cavalry alone are employed; in that case it amounts\nusually more to alarming and watching than to pressing the enemy in\nreality, because the smallest obstacle of ground is generally\nsufficient to check the pursuit. Useful as cavalry may be against\nsingle bodies of broken demoralised troops, still when opposed to the\nbulk of the beaten Army it becomes again only the auxiliary arm,\nbecause the troops in retreat can employ fresh reserves to cover the\nmovement, and, therefore, at the next trifling obstacle of ground, by\ncombining all arms they can make a stand with success. The only\nexception to this is in the case of an army in actual flight in a\ncomplete state of dissolution.\n\nThe second degree is, if the pursuit is made by a strong advance-guard\ncomposed of all arms, the greater part consisting naturally of cavalry.\nSuch a pursuit generally drives the enemy as far as the nearest strong\nposition for his rear-guard, or the next position affording space for\nhis Army. Neither can usually be found at once, and, therefore, the\npursuit can be carried further; generally, however, it does not extend\nbeyond the distance of one or at most a couple of leagues, because\notherwise the advance-guard would not feel itself sufficiently\nsupported. The third and most vigorous degree is when the victorious\nArmy itself continues to advance as far as its physical powers can\nendure. In this case the beaten Army will generally quit such ordinary\npositions as a country usually offers on the mere show of an attack, or\nof an intention to turn its flank; and the rear-guard will be still\nless likely to engage in an obstinate resistance.\n\nIn all three cases the night, if it sets in before the conclusion of\nthe whole act, usually puts an end to it, and the few instances in\nwhich this has not taken place, and the pursuit has been continued\nthroughout the night, must be regarded as pursuits in an exceptionally\nvigorous form.\n\nIf we reflect that in fighting by night everything must be, more or\nless, abandoned to chance, and that at the conclusion of a battle the\nregular cohesion and order of things in an army must inevitably be\ndisturbed, we may easily conceive the reluctance of both Generals to\ncarrying on their business under such disadvantageous conditions. If a\ncomplete dissolution of the vanquished Army, or a rare superiority of\nthe victorious Army in military virtue does not ensure success,\neverything would in a manner be given up to fate, which can never be\nfor the interest of any one, even of the most fool-hardy General. As a\nrule, therefore, night puts an end to pursuit, even when the battle has\nonly been decided shortly before darkness sets in. This allows the\nconquered either time for rest and to rally immediately, or, if he\nretreats during the night it gives him a march in advance. After this\nbreak the conquered is decidedly in a better condition; much of that\nwhich had been thrown into confusion has been brought again into order,\nammunition has been renewed, the whole has been put into a fresh\nformation. Whatever further encounter now takes place with the enemy is\na new battle not a continuation of the old, and although it may be far\nfrom promising absolute success, still it is a fresh combat, and not\nmerely a gathering up of the _d\u00e9bris_ by the victor.\n\nWhen, therefore, the conqueror can continue the pursuit itself\nthroughout the night, if only with a strong advance-guard composed of\nall arms of the service, the effect of the victory is immensely\nincreased, of this the battles of Leuthen and La Belle Alliance(*) are\nexamples.\n\n(*) Waterloo.\n\n\nThe whole action of this pursuit is mainly tactical, and we only dwell\nupon it here in order to make plain the difference which through it may\nbe produced in the effect of a victory.\n\nThis first pursuit, as far as the nearest stopping-point, belongs as a\nright to every conqueror, and is hardly in any way connected with his\nfurther plans and combinations. These may considerably diminish the\npositive results of a victory gained with the main body of the Army,\nbut they cannot make this first use of it impossible; at least cases of\nthat kind, if conceivable at all, must be so uncommon that they should\nhave no appreciable influence on theory. And here certainly we must say\nthat the example afforded by modern Wars opens up quite a new field for\nenergy. In preceding Wars, resting on a narrower basis, and altogether\nmore circumscribed in their scope, there were many unnecessary\nconventional restrictions in various ways, but particularly in this\npoint. _The conception, Honour of Victory_ seemed to Generals so much\nby far the chief thing that they thought the less of the complete\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s military force, as in point of fact that\ndestruction of force appeared to them only as one of the many means in\nWar, not by any means as the principal, much less as the only means; so\nthat they the more readily put the sword in its sheath the moment the\nenemy had lowered his. Nothing seemed more natural to them than to stop\nthe combat as soon as the decision was obtained, and to regard all\nfurther carnage as unnecessary cruelty. Even if this false philosophy\ndid not determine their resolutions entirely, still it was a point of\nview by which representations of the exhaustion of all powers, and\nphysical impossibility of continuing the struggle, obtained readier\nevidence and greater weight. Certainly the sparing one\u2019s own instrument\nof victory is a vital question if we only possess this one, and foresee\nthat soon the time may arrive when it will not be sufficient for all\nthat remains to be done, for every continuation of the offensive must\nlead ultimately to complete exhaustion. But this calculation was still\nso far false, as the further loss of forces by a continuance of the\npursuit could bear no proportion to that which the enemy must suffer.\nThat view, therefore, again could only exist because the military\nforces were not considered the vital factor. And so we find that in\nformer Wars real heroes only\u2014such as Charles XII., Marlborough, Eugene,\nFrederick the Great\u2014added a vigorous pursuit to their victories when\nthey were decisive enough, and that other Generals usually contented\nthemselves with the possession of the field of battle. In modern times\nthe greater energy infused into the conduct of Wars through the greater\nimportance of the circumstances from which they have proceeded has\nthrown down these conventional barriers; the pursuit has become an\nall-important business for the conqueror; trophies have on that account\nmultiplied in extent, and if there are cases also in modern Warfare in\nwhich this has not been the case, still they belong to the list of\nexceptions, and are to be accounted for by peculiar circumstances.\n\nAt Gorschen(*) and Bautzen nothing but the superiority of the allied\ncavalry prevented a complete rout, at Gross Beeren and Dennewitz the\nill-will of Bernadotte, the Crown Prince of Sweden; at Laon the\nenfeebled personal condition of Bl\u00fccher, who was then seventy years old\nand at the moment confined to a dark room owing to an injury to his\neyes.\n\n(*) Gorschen or Lutzen, May 2, 1813; Gross Beeren and Dennewitz, August\n22, 1813; Bautzen. May 22, 1913; Laon, March 10 1813.\n\n\nBut Borodino is also an illustration to the point here, and we cannot\nresist saying a few more words about it, partly because we do not\nconsider the circumstances are explained simply by attaching blame to\nBuonaparte, partly because it might appear as if this, and with it a\ngreat number of similar cases, belonged to that class which we have\ndesignated as so extremely rare, cases in which the general relations\nseize and fetter the General at the very beginning of the battle.\nFrench authors in particular, and great admirers of Buonaparte\n(Vaudancourt, Chambray, S\u00e9gur), have blamed him decidedly because he\ndid not drive the Russian Army completely off the field, and use his\nlast reserves to scatter it, because then what was only a lost battle\nwould have been a complete rout. We should be obliged to diverge too\nfar to describe circumstantially the mutual situation of the two\nArmies; but this much is evident, that when Buonaparte passed the\nNiemen with his Army the same corps which afterwards fought at Borodino\nnumbered 300,000 men, of whom now only 120,000 remained, he might\ntherefore well be apprehensive that he would not have enough left to\nmarch upon Moscow, the point on which everything seemed to depend. The\nvictory which he had just gained gave him nearly a certainty of taking\nthat capital, for that the Russians would be in a condition to fight a\nsecond battle within eight days seemed in the highest degree\nimprobable; and in Moscow he hoped to find peace. No doubt the complete\ndispersion of the Russian Army would have made this peace much more\ncertain; but still the first consideration was to get to Moscow, that\nis, to get there with a force with which he should appear dictator over\nthe capital, and through that over the Empire and the Government. The\nforce which he brought with him to Moscow was no longer sufficient for\nthat, as shown in the sequel, but it would have been still less so if,\nin scattering the Russian Army, he had scattered his own at the same\ntime. Buonaparte was thoroughly alive to all this, and in our eyes he\nstands completely justified. But on that account this case is still not\nto be reckoned amongst those in which, through the general relations,\nthe General is interdicted from following up his victory, for there\nnever was in his case any question of mere pursuit. The victory was\ndecided at four o\u2019clock in the afternoon, but the Russians still\noccupied the greater part of the field of battle; they were not yet\ndisposed to give up the ground, and if the attack had been renewed,\nthey would still have offered a most determined resistance, which would\nhave undoubtedly ended in their complete defeat, but would have cost\nthe conqueror much further bloodshed. We must therefore reckon the\nBattle of Borodino as amongst battles, like Bautzen, left unfinished.\nAt Bautzen the vanquished preferred to quit the field sooner; at\nBorodino the conqueror preferred to content himself with a half\nvictory, not because the decision appeared doubtful, but because he was\nnot rich enough to pay for the whole.\n\nReturning now to our subject, the deduction from our reflections in\nrelation to the first stage of pursuit is, that the energy thrown into\nit chiefly determines the value of the victory; that this pursuit is a\nsecond act of the victory, in many cases more important also than the\nfirst, and that strategy, whilst here approaching tactics to receive\nfrom it the harvest of success, exercises the first act of her\nauthority by demanding this completion of the victory.\n\nBut further, the effects of victory are very seldom found to stop with\nthis first pursuit; now first begins the real career to which victory\nlent velocity. This course is conditioned as we have already said, by\nother relations of which it is not yet time to speak. But we must here\nmention, what there is of a general character in the pursuit in order\nto avoid repetition when the subject occurs again.\n\nIn the further stages of pursuit, again, we can distinguish three\ndegrees: the simple pursuit, a hard pursuit, and a parallel march to\nintercept.\n\nThe simple _following_ or _pursuing_ causes the enemy to continue his\nretreat, until he thinks he can risk another battle. It will therefore\nin its effect suffice to exhaust the advantages gained, and besides\nthat, all that the enemy cannot carry with him, sick, wounded, and\ndisabled from fatigue, quantities of baggage, and carriages of all\nkinds, will fall into our hands, but this mere following does not tend\nto heighten the disorder in the enemy\u2019s Army, an effect which is\nproduced by the two following causes.\n\nIf, for instance, instead of contenting ourselves with taking up every\nday the camp the enemy has just vacated, occupying just as much of the\ncountry as he chooses to abandon, we make our arrangements so as every\nday to encroach further, and accordingly with our advance-guard\norganised for the purpose, attack his rear-guard every time it attempts\nto halt, then such a course will hasten his retreat, and consequently\ntend to increase his disorganisation.\u2014This it will principally effect\nby the character of continuous flight, which his retreat will thus\nassume. Nothing has such a depressing influence on the soldier, as the\nsound of the enemy\u2019s cannon afresh at the moment when, after a forced\nmarch he seeks some rest; if this excitement is continued from day to\nday for some time, it may lead to a complete rout. There lies in it a\nconstant admission of being obliged to obey the law of the enemy, and\nof being unfit for any resistance, and the consciousness of this cannot\ndo otherwise than weaken the moral of an Army in a high degree. The\neffect of pressing the enemy in this way attains a maximum when it\ndrives the enemy to make night marches. If the conqueror scares away\nthe discomfited opponent at sunset from a camp which has just been\ntaken up either for the main body of the Army, or for the rear-guard,\nthe conquered must either make a night march, or alter his position in\nthe night, retiring further away, which is much the same thing; the\nvictorious party can on the other hand pass the night in quiet.\n\nThe arrangement of marches, and the choice of positions depend in this\ncase also upon so many other things, especially on the supply of the\nArmy, on strong natural obstacles in the country, on large towns, &c.\n&c., that it would be ridiculous pedantry to attempt to show by a\ngeometrical analysis how the pursuer, being able to impose his laws on\nthe retreating enemy, can compel him to march at night while he takes\nhis rest. But nevertheless it is true and practicable that marches in\npursuit may be so planned as to have this tendency, and that the\nefficacy of the pursuit is very much enchanced thereby. If this is\nseldom attended to in the execution, it is because such a procedure is\nmore difficult for the pursuing Army, than a regular adherence to\nordinary marches in the daytime. To start in good time in the morning,\nto encamp at mid-day, to occupy the rest of the day in providing for\nthe ordinary wants of the Army, and to use the night for repose, is a\nmuch more convenient method than to regulate one\u2019s movements exactly\naccording to those of the enemy, therefore to determine nothing till\nthe last moment, to start on the march, sometimes in the morning,\nsometimes in the evening, to be always for several hours in the\npresence of the enemy, and exchanging cannon shots with him, and\nkeeping up skirmishing fire, to plan man\u0153uvres to turn him, in short,\nto make the whole outlay of tactical means which such a course renders\nnecessary. All that naturally bears with a heavy weight on the pursuing\nArmy, and in War, where there are so many burdens to be borne, men are\nalways inclined to strip off those which do not seem absolutely\nnecessary. These observations are true, whether applied to a whole Army\nor as in the more usual case, to a strong advance-guard. For the\nreasons just mentioned, this second method of pursuit, this continued\npressing of the enemy pursued is rather a rare occurrence; even\nBuonaparte in his Russian campaign, 1812, practised it but little, for\nthe reasons here apparent, that the difficulties and hardships of this\ncampaign, already threatened his Army with destruction before it could\nreach its object; on the other hand, the French in their other\ncampaigns have distinguished themselves by their energy in this point\nalso.\n\nLastly, the third and most effectual form of pursuit is, the parallel\nmarch to the immediate object of the retreat.\n\nEvery defeated Army will naturally have behind it, at a greater or less\ndistance, some point, the attainment of which is the first purpose in\nview, whether it be that failing in this its further retreat might be\ncompromised, as in the case of a defile, or that it is important for\nthe point itself to reach it before the enemy, as in the case of a\ngreat city, magazines, &c., or, lastly, that the Army at this point\nwill gain new powers of defence, such as a strong position, or junction\nwith other corps.\n\nNow if the conqueror directs his march on this point by a lateral road,\nit is evident how that may quicken the retreat of the beaten Army in a\ndestructive manner, convert it into hurry, perhaps into flight.(*) The\nconquered has only three ways to counteract this: the first is to throw\nhimself in front of the enemy, in order by an unexpected attack to gain\nthat probability of success which is lost to him in general from his\nposition; this plainly supposes an enterprising bold General, and an\nexcellent Army, beaten but not utterly defeated; therefore, it can only\nbe employed by a beaten Army in very few cases.\n\n(*) This point is exceptionally well treated by von Bernhardi in his\n\u201cCavalry in Future Wars.\u201d London: Murray, 1906.\n\n\nThe second way is hastening the retreat; but this is just what the\nconqueror wants, and it easily leads to immoderate efforts on the part\nof the troops, by which enormous losses are sustained, in stragglers,\nbroken guns, and carriages of all kinds.\n\nThe third way is to make a _d\u00e9tour_, and get round the nearest point of\ninterception, to march with more ease at a greater distance from the\nenemy, and thus to render the haste required less damaging. This last\nway is the worst of all, it generally turns out like a new debt\ncontracted by an insolvent debtor, and leads to greater embarrassment.\nThere are cases in which this course is advisable; others where there\nis nothing else left; also instances in which it has been successful;\nbut upon the whole it is certainly true that its adoption is usually\ninfluenced less by a clear persuasion of its being the surest way of\nattaining the aim than by another inadmissible motive\u2014this motive is\nthe dread of encountering the enemy. Woe to the Commander who gives in\nto this! However much the moral of his Army may have deteriorated, and\nhowever well founded may be his apprehensions of being at a\ndisadvantage in any conflict with the enemy, the evil will only be made\nworse by too anxiously avoiding every possible risk of collision.\nBuonaparte in 1813 would never have brought over the Rhine with him the\n30,000 or 40,000 men who remained after the battle of Hanau,(*) if he\nhad avoided that battle and tried to pass the Rhine at Mannheim or\nCoblenz. It is just by means of small combats carefully prepared and\nexecuted, and in which the defeated army being on the defensive, has\nalways the assistance of the ground\u2014it is just by these that the moral\nstrength of the Army can first be resuscitated.\n\n(*) At Hanau (October 30, 1813), the Bavarians some 50,000 strong threw\nthemselves across the line of Napoleon\u2019s retreat from Leipsic. By a\nmasterly use of its artillery the French tore the Bavarians asunder and\nmarched on over their bodies.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nThe beneficial effect of the smallest successes is incredible; but with\nmost Generals the adoption of this plan implies great self-command. The\nother way, that of evading all encounter, appears at first so much\neasier, that there is a natural preference for its adoption. It is\ntherefore usually just this system of evasion which best, promotes the\nview of the pursuer, and often ends with the complete downfall of the\npursued; we must, however, recollect here that we are speaking of a\nwhole Army, not of a single Division, which, having been cut off, is\nseeking to join the main Army by making a _d\u00e9tour;_ in such a case\ncircumstances are different, and success is not uncommon. But there is\none condition requisite to the success of this race of two Corps for an\nobject, which is that a Division of the pursuing army should follow by\nthe same road which the pursued has taken, in order to pick up\nstragglers, and keep up the impression which the presence of the enemy\nnever fails to make. Bl\u00fccher neglected this in his, in other respects\nunexceptionable, pursuit after La Belle Alliance.\n\nSuch marches tell upon the pursuer as well as the pursued, and they are\nnot advisable if the enemy\u2019s Army rallies itself upon another\nconsiderable one; if it has a distinguished General at its head, and if\nits destruction is not already well prepared. But when this means can\nbe adopted, it acts also like a great mechanical power. The losses of\nthe beaten Army from sickness and fatigue are on such a\ndisproportionate scale, the spirit of the Army is so weakened and\nlowered by the constant solicitude about impending ruin, that at last\nanything like a well organised stand is out of the question; every day\nthousands of prisoners fall into the enemy\u2019s hands without striking a\nblow. In such a season of complete good fortune, the conqueror need not\nhesitate about dividing his forces in order to draw into the vortex of\ndestruction everything within reach of his Army, to cut off\ndetachments, to take fortresses unprepared for defence, to occupy large\ntowns, &c. &c. He may do anything until a new state of things arises,\nand the more he ventures in this way the longer will it be before that\nchange will take place. There is no want of examples of brilliant\nresults from grand decisive victories, and of great and vigorous\npursuits in the wars of Buonaparte. We need only quote Jena 1806,\nRatisbonne 1809, Leipsic 1813, and Belle- Alliance 1815.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. Retreat After a Lost Battle\n\nIn a lost battle the power of an Army is broken, the moral to a greater\ndegree than the physical. A second battle unless fresh favourable\ncircumstances come into play, would lead to a complete defeat, perhaps,\nto destruction. This is a military axiom. According to the usual course\nthe retreat is continued up to that point where the equilibrium of\nforces is restored, either by reinforcements, or by the protection of\nstrong fortresses, or by great defensive positions afforded by the\ncountry, or by a separation of the enemy\u2019s force. The magnitude of the\nlosses sustained, the extent of the defeat, but still more the\ncharacter of the enemy, will bring nearer or put off the instant of\nthis equilibrium. How many instances may be found of a beaten Army\nrallied again at a short distance, without its circumstances having\naltered in any way since the battle. The cause of this may be traced to\nthe moral weakness of the adversary, or to the preponderance gained in\nthe battle not having been sufficient to make lasting impression.\n\nTo profit by this weakness or mistake of the enemy, not to yield one\ninch breadth more than the pressure of circumstances demands, but above\nall things, in order to keep up the moral forces to as advantageous a\npoint as possible, a slow retreat, offering incessant resistance, and\nbold courageous counterstrokes, whenever the enemy seeks to gain any\nexcessive advantages, are absolutely necessary. Retreats of great\nGenerals and of Armies inured to War have always resembled the retreat\nof a wounded lion, such is, undoubtedly, also the best theory.\n\nIt is true that at the moment of quitting a dangerous position we have\noften seen trifling formalities observed which caused a waste of time,\nand were, therefore, attended with danger, whilst in such cases\neverything depends on getting out of the place speedily. Practised\nGenerals reckon this maxim a very important one. But such cases must\nnot be confounded with a general retreat after a lost battle. Whoever\nthen thinks by a few rapid marches to gain a start, and more easily to\nrecover a firm standing, commits a great error. The first movements\nshould be as small as possible, and it is a maxim in general not to\nsuffer ourselves to be dictated to by the enemy. This maxim cannot be\nfollowed without bloody fighting with the enemy at our heels, but the\ngain is worth the sacrifice; without it we get into an accelerated pace\nwhich soon turns into a headlong rush, and costs merely in stragglers\nmore men than rear-guard combats, and besides that extinguishes the\nlast remnants of the spirit of resistance.\n\nA strong rear-guard composed of picked troops, commanded by the bravest\nGeneral, and supported by the whole Army at critical moments, a careful\nutilisation of ground, strong ambuscades wherever the boldness of the\nenemy\u2019s advance-guard, and the ground, afford opportunity; in short,\nthe preparation and the system of regular small battles,\u2014these are the\nmeans of following this principle.\n\nThe difficulties of a retreat are naturally greater or less according\nas the battle has been fought under more or less favourable\ncircumstances, and according as it has been more or less obstinately\ncontested. The battle of Jena and La Belle-Alliance show how impossible\nanything like a regular retreat may become, if the last man is used up\nagainst a powerful enemy.\n\nNow and again it has been suggested(*) to divide for the purpose of\nretreating, therefore to retreat in separate divisions or even\neccentrically. Such a separation as is made merely for convenience, and\nalong with which concentrated action continues possible and is kept in\nview, is not what we now refer to; any other kind is extremely\ndangerous, contrary to the nature of the thing, and therefore a great\nerror. Every lost battle is a principle of weakness and\ndisorganisation; and the first and immediate desideratum is to\nconcentrate, and in concentration to recover order, courage, and\nconfidence. The idea of harassing the enemy by separate corps on both\nflanks at the moment when he is following up his victory, is a perfect\nanomaly; a faint-hearted pedant might be overawed by his enemy in that\nmanner, and for such a case it may answer; but where we are not sure of\nthis failing in our opponent it is better let alone. If the strategic\nrelations after a battle require that we should cover ourselves right\nand left by detachments, so much must be done, as from circumstances is\nunavoidable, but this fractioning must always be regarded as an evil,\nand we are seldom in a state to commence it the day after the battle\nitself.\n\n(*) Allusion is here made to the works of Lloyd B\u00fclow and others.\n\n\nIf Frederick the Great after the battle of Kollin,(*) and the raising\nof the siege of Prague retreated in three columns that was done not out\nof choice, but because the position of his forces, and the necessity of\ncovering Saxony, left him no alternative, Buonaparte after the battle\nof Brienne,(**) sent Marmont back to the Aube, whilst he himself passed\nthe Seine, and turned towards Troyes; but that this did not end in\ndisaster, was solely owing to the circumstance that the Allies, instead\nof pursuing divided their forces in like manner, turning with the one\npart (Bl\u00fccher) towards the Marne, while with the other\n(Schwartzenberg), from fear of being too weak, they advanced with\nexaggerated caution.\n\n(*) June 19, 1757.\n\n(**) January 30, 1814.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. Night Fighting\n\nThe manner of conducting a combat at night, and what concerns the\ndetails of its course, is a tactical subject; we only examine it here\nso far as in its totality it appears as a special strategic means.\n\nFundamentally every night attack is only a more vehement form of\nsurprise. Now at the first look of the thing such an attack appears\nquite pre-eminently advantageous, for we suppose the enemy to be taken\nby surprise, the assailant naturally to be prepared for everything\nwhich can happen. What an inequality! Imagination paints to itself a\npicture of the most complete confusion on the one side, and on the\nother side the assailant only occupied in reaping the fruits of his\nadvantage. Hence the constant creation of schemes for night attacks by\nthose who have not to lead them, and have no responsibility, whilst\nthese attacks seldom take place in reality.\n\nThese ideal schemes are all based on the hypothesis that the assailant\nknows the arrangements of the defender because they have been made and\nannounced beforehand, and could not escape notice in his\nreconnaissances, and inquiries; that on the other hand, the measures of\nthe assailant, being only taken at the moment of execution, cannot be\nknown to the enemy. But the last of these is not always quite the case,\nand still less is the first. If we are not so near the enemy as to have\nhim completely under our eye, as the Austrians had Frederick the Great\nbefore the battle of Hochkirch (1758), then all that we know of his\nposition must always be imperfect, as it is obtained by\nreconnaissances, patrols, information from prisoners, and spies,\nsources on which no firm reliance can be placed because intelligence\nthus obtained is always more or less of an old date, and the position\nof the enemy may have been altered in the meantime. Moreover, with the\ntactics and mode of encampment of former times it was much easier than\nit is now to examine the position of the enemy. A line of tents is much\neasier to distinguish than a line of huts or a bivouac; and an\nencampment on a line of front, fully and regularly drawn out, also\neasier than one of Divisions formed in columns, the mode often used at\npresent. We may have the ground on which a Division bivouacs in that\nmanner completely under our eye, and yet not be able to arrive at any\naccurate idea.\n\nBut the position again is not all that we want to know the measures\nwhich the defender may take in the course of the combat are just as\nimportant, and do not by any means consist in mere random shots. These\nmeasures also make night attacks more difficult in modern Wars than\nformerly, because they have in these campaigns an advantage over those\nalready taken. In our combats the position of the defender is more\ntemporary than definitive, and on that account the defender is better\nable to surprise his adversary with unexpected blows, than he could\nformerly.(*)\n\n(*) All these difficulties obviously become increased as the power of\nthe weapons in use tends to keep the combatants further apart.\u2014EDITOR.\n\n\nTherefore what the assailant knows of the defensive previous to a night\nattack, is seldom or never sufficient to supply the want of direct\nobservation.\n\nBut the defender has on his side another small advantage as well, which\nis that he is more at home than the assailant, on the ground which\nforms his position, and therefore, like the inhabitant of a room, will\nfind his way about it in the dark with more ease than a stranger. He\nknows better where to find each part of his force, and therefore can\nmore readily get at it than is the case with his adversary.\n\nFrom this it follows, that the assailant in a combat at night feels the\nwant of his eyes just as much as the defender, and that therefore, only\nparticular reasons can make a night attack advisable.\n\nNow these reasons arise mostly in connection with subordinate parts of\nan Army, rarely with the Army itself; it follows that a night attack\nalso as a rule can only take place with secondary combats, and seldom\nwith great battles.\n\nWe may attack a portion of the enemy\u2019s Army with a very superior force,\nconsequently enveloping it with a view either to take the whole, or to\ninflict very severe loss on it by an unequal combat, provided that\nother circumstances are in our favour. But such a scheme can never\nsucceed except by a great surprise, because no fractional part of the\nenemy\u2019s Army would engage in such an unequal combat, but would retire\ninstead. But a surprise on an important scale except in rare instances\nin a very close country, can only be effected at night. If therefore we\nwish to gain such an advantage as this from the faulty disposition of a\nportion of the enemy\u2019s Army, then we must make use of the night, at all\nevents, to finish the preliminary part even if the combat itself should\nnot open till towards daybreak. This is therefore what takes place in\nall the little enterprises by night against outposts, and other small\nbodies, the main point being invariably through superior numbers, and\ngetting round his position, to entangle him unexpectedly in such a\ndisadvantageous combat, that he cannot disengage himself without great\nloss.\n\nThe larger the body attacked the more difficult the undertaking,\nbecause a strong force has greater resources within itself to maintain\nthe fight long enough for help to arrive.\n\nOn that account the whole of the enemy\u2019s Army can never in ordinary\ncases be the object of such an attack for although it has no assistance\nto expect from any quarter outside itself, still, it contains within\nitself sufficient means of repelling attacks from several sides\nparticularly in our day, when every one from the commencement is\nprepared for this very usual form of attack. Whether the enemy can\nattack us on several sides with success depends generally on conditions\nquite different from that of its being done unexpectedly; without\nentering here into the nature of these conditions, we confine ourselves\nto observing, that with turning an enemy, great results, as well as\ngreat dangers are connected; that therefore, if we set aside special\ncircumstances, nothing justifies it but a great superiority, just such\nas we should use against a fractional part of the enemy\u2019s Army.\n\nBut the turning and surrounding a small fraction of the enemy, and\nparticularly in the darkness of night, is also more practicable for\nthis reason, that whatever we stake upon it, and however superior the\nforce used may be, still probably it constitutes only a limited portion\nof our Army, and we can sooner stake that than the whole on the risk of\na great venture. Besides, the greater part or perhaps the whole serves\nas a support and rallying-point for the portion risked, which again\nvery much diminishes the danger of the enterprise.\n\nNot only the risk, but the difficulty of execution as well confines\nnight enterprises to small bodies. As surprise is the real essence of\nthem so also stealthy approach is the chief condition of execution: but\nthis is more easily done with small bodies than with large, and for the\ncolumns of a whole Army is seldom practicable. For this reason such\nenterprises are in general only directed against single outposts, and\ncan only be feasible against greater bodies if they are without\nsufficient outposts, like Frederick the Great at Hochkirch.(*) This\nwill happen seldomer in future to Armies themselves than to minor\ndivisions.\n\n(*) October 14, 1758.\n\n\nIn recent times, when War has been carried on with so much more\nrapidity and vigour, it has in consequence often happened that Armies\nhave encamped very close to each other, without having a very strong\nsystem of outposts, because those circumstances have generally occurred\njust at the crisis which precedes a great decision.\n\nBut then at such times the readiness for battle on both sides is also\nmore perfect; on the other hand, in former Wars it was a frequent\npractice for armies to take up camps in sight of each other, when they\nhad no other object but that of mutually holding each other in check,\nconsequently for a longer period. How often Frederick the Great stood\nfor weeks so near to the Austrians, that the two might have exchanged\ncannon shots with each other.\n\nBut these practices, certainly more favourable to night attacks, have\nbeen discontinued in later days; and armies being now no longer in\nregard to subsistence and requirements for encampment, such independent\nbodies complete in themselves, find it necessary to keep usually a\nday\u2019s march between themselves and the enemy. If we now keep in view\nespecially the night attack of an army, it follows that sufficient\nmotives for it can seldom occur, and that they fall under one or other\nof the following classes.\n\n1. An unusual degree of carelessness or audacity which very rarely\noccurs, and when it does is compensated for by a great superiority in\nmoral force.\n\n2. A panic in the enemy\u2019s army, or generally such a degree of\nsuperiority in moral force on our side, that this is sufficient to\nsupply the place of guidance in action.\n\n3. Cutting through an enemy\u2019s army of superior force, which keeps us\nenveloped, because in this all depends on surprise, and the object of\nmerely making a passage by force, allows a much greater concentration\nof forces.\n\n4. Finally, in desperate cases, when our forces have such a\ndisproportion to the enemy\u2019s, that we see no possibility of success,\nexcept through extraordinary daring.\n\nBut in all these cases there is still the condition that the enemy\u2019s\narmy is under our eyes, and protected by no advance-guard.\n\nAs for the rest, most night combats are so conducted as to end with\ndaylight, so that only the approach and the first attack are made under\ncover of darkness, because the assailant in that manner can better\nprofit by the consequences of the state of confusion into which he\nthrows his adversary; and combats of this description which do not\ncommence until daybreak, in which the night therefore is only made use\nof to approach, are not to be counted as night combats.\n\n\n\nBOOK V MILITARY FORCES\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. General Scheme\n\nWe shall consider military forces:\n\n1. As regards their numerical strength and organisation.\n\n2. In their state independent of fighting.\n\n3. In respect of their maintenance; and, lastly,\n\n4. In their general relations to country and ground.\n\nThus we shall devote this book to the consideration of things\nappertaining to an army, which only come under the head of _necessary\nconditions of fighting_, but do not constitute the fight itself. They\nstand in more or less close connection with and react upon the\nfighting, and therefore, in considering the application of the combat\nthey must often appear; but we must first consider each by itself, as a\nwhole, in its essence and peculiarities.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Theatre of War, Army, Campaign\n\nThe nature of the things does not allow of a completely satisfactory\ndefinition of these three factors, denoting respectively, space, mass,\nand time in war; but that we may not sometimes be quite misunderstood,\nwe must try to make somewhat plainer the usual meaning of these terms,\nto which we shall in most cases adhere.\n\n1.\u2014Theatre of War.\n\n\nThis term denotes properly such a portion of the space over which war\nprevails as has its boundaries protected, and thus possesses a kind of\nindependence. This protection may consist in fortresses, or important\nnatural obstacles presented by the country, or even in its being\nseparated by a considerable distance from the rest of the space\nembraced in the war.\u2014Such a portion is not a mere piece of the whole,\nbut a small whole complete in itself; and consequently it is more or\nless in such a condition that changes which take place at other points\nin the seat of war have only an indirect and no direct influence upon\nit. To give an adequate idea of this, we may suppose that on this\nportion an advance is made, whilst in another quarter a retreat is\ntaking place, or that upon the one an army is acting defensively,\nwhilst an offensive is being carried on upon the other. Such a clearly\ndefined idea as this is not capable of universal application; it is\nhere used merely to indicate the line of distinction.\n\n2.\u2014Army.\n\n\nWith the assistance of the conception of a Theatre of War, it is very\neasy to say what an Army is: it is, in point of fact, the mass of\ntroops in the same Theatre of War. But this plainly does not include\nall that is meant by the term in its common usage. Bl\u00fccher and\nWellington commanded each a separate army in 1815, although the two\nwere in the same Theatre of War. The chief command is, therefore,\nanother distinguishing sign for the conception of an Army. At the same\ntime this sign is very nearly allied to the preceding, for where things\nare well organised, there should only exist one supreme command in a\nTheatre of War, and the commander-in-chief in a particular Theatre of\nWar should always have a proportionate degree of independence.\n\nThe mere absolute numerical strength of a body of troops is less\ndecisive on the subject than might at first appear. For where several\nArmies are acting under one command, and upon one and the same Theatre\nof War, they are called Armies, not by reason of their strength, but\nfrom the relations antecedent to the war (1813, the Silesian Army, the\nArmy of the North, etc), and although we should divide a great mass of\ntroops intended to remain in the same Theatre into corps, we should\nnever divide them into Armies, at least, such a division would be\ncontrary to what seems to be the meaning which is universally attached\nto the term. On the other hand, it would certainly be pedantry to apply\nthe term Army to each band of irregular troops acting independently in\na remote province: still we must not leave unnoticed that it surprises\nno one when the Army of the Vendeans in the Revolutionary War is spoken\nof, and yet it was not much stronger.\n\nThe conceptions of Army and Theatre of War therefore, as a rule, go\ntogether, and mutually include each other.\n\n3.\u2014Campaign.\n\n\nAlthough the sum of all military events which happen in all the\nTheatres of War in one year is often called a _Campaign_, still,\nhowever, it is more usual and more exact to understand by the term the\nevents in _one single_ Theatre of War. But it is worse still to connect\nthe notion of a Campaign with the period of one year, for wars no\nlonger divide themselves naturally into Campaigns of a year\u2019s duration\nby fixed and long periods in winter quarters. As, however, the events\nin a Theatre of War of themselves form certain great chapters\u2014if, for\ninstance, the direct effects of some more or less great catastrophe\ncease, and new combinations begin to develop themselves\u2014therefore these\nnatural subdivisions must be taken into consideration in order to allot\nto each year (Campaign) its complete share of events. No one would make\nthe Campaign of 1812 terminate at Memel, where the armies were on the\n1st January, and transfer the further retreat of the French until they\nrecrossed the Elbe to the campaign of 1813, as that further retreat was\nplainly only a part of the whole retreat from Moscow.\n\nThat we cannot give these conceptions any greater degree of\ndistinctness is of no consequence, because they cannot be used as\nphilosophical definitions for the basis of any kind of propositions.\nThey only serve to give a little more clearness and precision to the\nlanguage we use.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. Relation of Power\n\nIn the eighth chapter of the third book we have spoken of the value of\nsuperior numbers in battles, from which follows as a consequence the\nsuperiority of numbers in general in strategy. So far the importance of\nthe relations of power is established: we shall now add a few more\ndetailed considerations on the subject.\n\nAn unbiassed examination of modern military history leads to the\nconviction that the _superiority in numbers becomes every day more\ndecisive;_ the principle of assembling the greatest possible numbers\nfor a decisive battle may therefore be regarded as more important than\never.\n\nCourage and the spirit of an army have, in all ages, multiplied its\nphysical powers, and will continue to do so equally in future; but we\nfind also that at certain periods in history a superiority in the\norganisation and equipment of an army has given a great moral\npreponderance; we find that at other periods a great superiority in\nmobility had a like effect; at one time we see a new system of tactics\nbrought to light; at another we see the art of war developing itself in\nan effort to make a skilful use of ground on great general principles,\nand by such means here and there we find one general gaining great\nadvantages over another; but even this tendency has disappeared, and\nwars now go on in a simpler and more natural manner.\u2014If, divesting\nourselves of any preconceived notions, we look at the experiences of\nrecent wars, we must admit that there are but little traces of any of\nthe above influences, either throughout any whole campaign, or in\nengagements of a decisive character\u2014that is, the great battle,\nrespecting which term we refer to the second chapter of the preceding\nbook.\n\nArmies are in our days so much on a par in regard to arms, equipment,\nand drill, that there is no very notable difference between the best\nand the worst in these things. A difference may still be observed,\nresulting from the superior instruction of the scientific corps, but in\ngeneral it only amounts to this, that one is the inventor and\nintroducer of improved appliances, which the other immediately\nimitates. Even the subordinate generals, leaders of corps and\ndivisions, in all that comes within the scope of their sphere, have in\ngeneral everywhere the same ideas and methods, so that, except the\ntalent of the commander-in-chief\u2014a thing entirely dependent on chance,\nand not bearing a constant relation to the standard of education\namongst the people and the army\u2014there is nothing now but habituation to\nwar which can give one army a decided superiority over another. The\nnearer we approach to a state of equality in all these things, the more\ndecisive becomes the relation in point of numbers.\n\nThe character of modern battles is the result of this state of\nequality. Take for instance the battle of Borodino, where the first\narmy in the world, the French, measured its strength with the Russian,\nwhich, in many parts of its organisation, and in the education of its\nspecial branches, might be considered the furthest behindhand. In the\nwhole battle there is not one single trace of superior art or\nintelligence, it is a mere trial of strength between the respective\narmies throughout; and as they were nearly equal in that respect, the\nresult could not be otherwise than a gradual turn of the scale in\nfavour of that side where there was the greatest energy on the part of\nthe commander, and the most experience in war on the part of the\ntroops. We have taken this battle as an illustration, because in it\nthere was an equality in the numbers on each side such as is rarely to\nbe found.\n\nWe do not maintain that all battles exactly resemble this, but it shows\nthe dominant tone of most of them.\n\nIn a battle in which the forces try their strength on each other so\nleisurely and methodically, an excess of force on one side must make\nthe result in its favour much more certain. And it is a fact that we\nmay search modern military history in vain for a battle in which an\narmy has beaten another double its own strength, an occurrence by no\nmeans uncommon in former times. Buonaparte, the greatest general of\nmodern times, in all his great victorious battles\u2014with one exception,\nthat of Dresden, 1813\u2014had managed to assemble an army superior in\nnumbers, or at least very little inferior, to that of his opponent, and\nwhen it was impossible for him to do so, as at Leipsic, Brienne, Laon,\nand Belle-Alliance, he was beaten.\n\nThe absolute strength is in strategy generally a given quantity, which\nthe commander cannot alter. But from this it by no means follows that\nit is impossible to carry on a war with a decidedly inferior force. War\nis not always a voluntary act of state policy, and least of all is it\nso when the forces are very unequal: consequently, any relation of\nforces is imaginable in war, and it would be a strange theory of war\nwhich would wish to give up its office just where it is most wanted.\n\nHowever desirable theory may consider a proportionate force, still it\ncannot say that no use can be made of the most disproportionate. No\nlimits can be prescribed in this respect.\n\nThe weaker the force the more moderate must be the object it proposes\nto itself, and the weaker the force the shorter time it will last. In\nthese two directions there is a field for weakness to give way, if we\nmay use this expression. Of the changes which the measure of the force\nproduces in the conduct of war, we can only speak by degrees, as these\nthings present themselves; at present it is sufficient to have\nindicated the general point of view, but to complete that we shall add\none more observation.\n\nThe more that an army involved in an unequal combat falls short of the\nnumber of its opponents, the greater must be the tension of its powers,\nthe greater its energy when danger presses. If the reverse takes place,\nand instead of heroic desperation a spirit of despondency ensues, then\ncertainly there is an end to every art of war.\n\nIf with this energy of powers is combined a wise moderation in the\nobject proposed, then there is that play of brilliant actions and\nprudent forbearance which we admire in the wars of Frederick the Great.\n\nBut the less that this moderation and caution can effect, the more must\nthe tension and energy of the forces become predominant. When the\ndisproportion of forces is so great that no modification of our own\nobject can ensure us safety from a catastrophe, or where the probable\ncontinuance of the danger is so great that the greatest economy of our\npowers can no longer suffice to bring us to our object, then the\ntension of our powers should be concentrated for one desperate blow; he\nwho is pressed on all sides expecting little help from things which\npromise none, will place his last and only reliance in the moral\nascendancy which despair gives to courage, and look upon the greatest\ndaring as the greatest wisdom,\u2014at the same time employ the assistance\nof subtle stratagem, and if he does not succeed, will find in an\nhonourable downfall the right to rise hereafter.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Relation of the Three Arms\n\nWe shall only speak of the three principal arms: Infantry, Cavalry, and\nArtillery.\n\nWe must be excused for making the following analysis which belongs more\nto tactics, but is necessary to give distinctness to our ideas.\n\nThe combat is of two kinds, which are essentially different: the\ndestructive principle of fire, and the hand to hand or personal combat.\nThis latter, again, is either attack or defence. (As we here speak of\nelements, attack and defence are to be understood in a perfectly\nabsolute sense.) Artillery, obviously, acts only with the destructive\nprinciple of fire. Cavalry only with personal combat. Infantry with\nboth.\n\nIn close combat the essence of defence consists in standing firm, as if\nrooted to the ground; the essence of the attack is movement. Cavalry is\nentirely deficient in the first quality; on the other hand, it\npossesses the latter in an especial manner. It is therefore only suited\nfor attack. Infantry has especially the property of standing firm, but\nis not altogether without mobility.\n\nFrom this division of the elementary forces of war into different arms,\nwe have as a result, the superiority and general utility of Infantry as\ncompared with the other two arms, from its being the only arm which\nunites in itself all the three elementary forces. A further deduction\nto be drawn is, that the combination of the three arms leads to a more\nperfect use of the forces, by affording the means of strengthening at\npleasure either the one or the other of the principles which are united\nin an unalterable manner in Infantry.\n\nThe destructive principle of fire is in the wars of the present time\nplainly beyond measure the most effective; nevertheless, the close\ncombat, man to man, is just as plainly to be regarded as the real basis\nof combat. For that reason, therefore, an army of artillery only would\nbe an absurdity in war, but an army of cavalry is conceivable, only it\nwould possess very little intensity of force An army of infantry alone\nis not only conceivable but also much the strongest of the three. The\nthree arms, therefore, stand in this order in reference to independent\nvalue\u2014Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery.\n\nBut this order does not hold good if applied to the relative importance\nof each arm when they are all three acting in conjunction. As the\ndestructive principle is much more effective than the principle of\nmotion, therefore the complete want of cavalry would weaken an army\nless than the total want of artillery.\n\nAn army consisting of infantry and artillery alone, would certainly\nfind itself in a disagreeable position if opposed to an army composed\nof all three arms; but if what it lacked in cavalry was compensated for\nby a proportionate increase of infantry, it would still, by a somewhat\ndifferent mode of acting, be able to do very well with its tactical\neconomy. Its outpost service would cause some embarrassment; it would\nnever be able to pursue a beaten enemy with great vivacity, and it must\nmake a retreat with greater hardships and efforts; but these\ninconveniences would still never be sufficient in themselves to drive\nit completely out of the field.\u2014On the other hand, such an army opposed\nto one composed of infantry and cavalry only would be able to play a\nvery good part, while it is hardly conceivable that the latter could\nkeep the field at all against an army made up of all three arms.\n\nOf course these reflections on the relative importance of each single\narm result only from a consideration of the generality of events in\nwar, where one case compensates another; and therefore it is not our\nintention to apply the truth thus ascertained to each individual case\nof a particular combat. A battalion on outpost service or on a retreat\nmay, perhaps, choose to have with it a squadron in preference to a\ncouple of guns. A body of cavalry with horse artillery, sent in rapid\npursuit of, or to cut off, a flying enemy wants no infantry, etc., etc.\n\nIf we summarise the results of these considerations they amount to\nthis.\n\n1. That infantry is the most independent of the three arms.\n\n2. Artillery is quite wanting in independence.\n\n3. Infantry is the most important in the combination of the three arms.\n\n4. Cavalry can the most easily be dispensed with.\n\n5. A combination of the three arms gives the greatest strength.\n\nNow, if the combination of the three gives the greatest strength, it is\nnatural to inquire what is the best absolute proportion of each, but\nthat is a question which it is almost impossible to answer.\n\nIf we could form a comparative estimate of the cost of organising in\nthe first instance, and then provisioning and maintaining each of the\nthree arms, and then again of the relative amount of service rendered\nby each in war, we should obtain a definite result which would give the\nbest proportion in the abstract. But this is little more than a play of\nthe imagination. The very first term in the comparison is difficult to\ndetermine, that is to say, one of the factors, the cost in money, is\nnot difficult to find; but another, the value of men\u2019s lives, is a\ncomputation which no one would readily try to solve by figures.\n\nAlso the circumstance that each of the three arms chiefly depends on a\ndifferent element of strength in the state\u2014Infantry on the number of\nthe male population, cavalry on the number of horses, artillery on\navailable financial means\u2014introduces into the calculation some\nheterogeneous conditions, the overruling influence of which may be\nplainly observed in the great outlines of the history of different\npeople at various periods.\n\nAs, however, for other reasons we cannot altogether dispense with some\nstandard of comparison, therefore, in place of the whole of the first\nterm of the comparison we must take only that one of its factors which\ncan be ascertained, namely, the cost in money. Now on this point it is\nsufficient for our purpose to assume that, in general, a squadron of\n150 horsemen, a battalion of infantry 800 strong, a battery of\nartillery consisting of 8 six-pounders, cost nearly the same, both as\nrespects the expense of formation and of maintenance.\n\nWith regard to the other member of the comparison, that is, how much\nservice the one arm is capable of rendering as compared with the\nothers, it is much less easy to find any distinct quantity. The thing\nmight perhaps be possible if it depended merely on the destroying\nprinciple; but each arm is destined to its own particular use,\ntherefore has its own particular sphere of action, which, again, is not\nso distinctly defined that it might not be greater or less through\nmodifications only in the mode of conducting the war, without causing\nany decided disadvantage.\n\nWe are often told of what experience teaches on this subject, and it is\nsupposed that military history affords the information necessary for a\nsettlement of the question, but every one must look upon all that as\nnothing more than a way of talking, which, as it is not derived from\nanything of a primary and necessary nature, does not deserve attention\nin an analytical examination.\n\nNow although a fixed ratio as representing the best proportion between\nthe three arms is conceivable, but is an x which it is impossible to\nfind, a mere imaginary quantity, still it is possible to appreciate the\neffects of having a great superiority or a great inferiority in one\nparticular arm as compared with the same arm in the enemy\u2019s army.\n\nArtillery increases the destructive principle of fire; it is the most\nredoubtable of arms, and its want, therefore, diminishes very\nconsiderably the intensive force of an army. On the other hand, it is\nthe least moveable, consequently, makes an army more unwieldy; further,\nit always requires a force for its support, because it is incapable of\nclose combat; if it is too numerous, so that the troops appointed for\nits protection are not able to resist the attacks of the enemy at every\npoint, it is often lost, and from that follows a fresh disadvantage,\nbecause of the three arms it is the only one which in its principal\nparts, that is guns and carriages, the enemy can soon use against us.\n\nCavalry increases the principle of mobility in an army. If too few in\nnumber the brisk flame of the elements of war is thereby weakened,\nbecause everything must be done slower (on foot), everything must be\norganised with more care; the rich harvest of victory, instead of being\ncut with a scythe, can only be reaped with a sickle.\n\nAn excess of cavalry can certainly never be looked upon as a direct\ndiminution of the combatant force, as an organic disproportion, but it\nmay certainly be so indirectly, on account of the difficulty of feeding\nthat arm, and also if we reflect that instead of a surplus of 10,000\nhorsemen not required we might have 50,000 infantry.\n\nThese peculiarities arising from the preponderance of one arm are the\nmore important to the art of war in its limited sense, as that art\nteaches the use of whatever forces are forthcoming; and when forces are\nplaced under the command of a general, the proportion of the three arms\nis also commonly already settled without his having had much voice in\nthe matter.\n\nIf we would form an idea of the character of warfare modified by the\npreponderance of one or other of the three arms it is to be done in the\nfollowing manner:\u2014\n\nAn excess of artillery leads to a more defensive and passive character\nin our measures; our interest will be to seek security in strong\npositions, great natural obstacles of ground, even in mountain\npositions, in order that the natural impediments we find in the ground\nmay undertake the defence and protection of our numerous artillery, and\nthat the enemy\u2019s forces may come themselves and seek their own\ndestruction. The whole war will be carried on in a serious formal\nminuet step.\n\nOn the other hand, a want of artillery will make us prefer the\noffensive, the active, the mobile principle; marching, fatigue,\nexertion, become our special weapons, thus the war will become more\ndiversified, more lively, rougher; small change is substituted for\ngreat events.\n\nWith a very numerous cavalry we seek wide plains, and take to great\nmovements. At a greater distance from the enemy we enjoy more rest and\ngreater conveniences without conferring the same advantages on our\nadversary. We may venture on bolder measures to outflank him, and on\nmore daring movements generally, as we have command over space. In as\nfar as diversions and invasions are true auxiliary means of war we\nshall be able to make use of them with greater facility.\n\nA decided want of cavalry diminishes the force of mobility in an army\nwithout increasing its destructive power as an excess of artillery\ndoes. Prudence and method become then the leading characteristics of\nthe war. Always to remain near the enemy in order to keep him\nconstantly in view\u2014no rapid, still less hurried movements, everywhere a\nslow pushing on of well concentrated masses\u2014a preference for the\ndefensive and for broken country, and, when the offensive must be\nresorted to, the shortest road direct to the centre of force in the\nenemy\u2019s army\u2014these are the natural tendencies or principles in such\ncases.\n\nThese different forms which warfare takes according as one or other of\nthe three arms preponderates, seldom have an influence so complete and\ndecided as alone, or chiefly to determine the direction of a whole\nundertaking. Whether we shall act strategically on the offensive or\ndefensive, the choice of a theatre of war, the determination to fight a\ngreat battle, or adopt some other means of destruction, are points\nwhich must be determined by other and more essential considerations, at\nleast, if this is not the case, it is much to be feared that we have\nmistaken minor details for the chief consideration. But although this\nis so, although the great questions must be decided before on other\ngrounds, there still always remains a certain margin for the influence\nof the preponderating arm, for in the offensive we can always be\nprudent and methodical, in the defensive bold and enterprising, etc.,\netc., through all the different stages and gradations of the military\nlife.\n\nOn the other hand, the nature of a war may have a notable influence on\nthe proportions of the three arms.\n\nFirst, a national war, kept up by militia and a general levy\n(Landsturm), must naturally bring into the field a very numerous\ninfantry; for in such wars there is a greater want of the means of\nequipment than of men, and as the equipment consequently is confined to\nwhat is indisputably necessary, we may easily imagine, that for every\nbattery of eight pieces, not only one, but two or three battalions\nmight be raised.\n\nSecond, if a weak state opposed to a powerful one cannot take refuge in\na general call of the male population to regular military service, or\nin a militia system resembling it, then the increase of its artillery\nis certainly the shortest way of bringing up its weak army nearer to an\nequality with that of the enemy, for it saves men, and intensifies the\nessential principle of military force, that is, the destructive\nprinciple. Any way, such a state will mostly be confined to a limited\ntheatre, and therefore this arm will be better suited to it. Frederick\nthe Great adopted this means in the later period of the Seven Years\u2019\nWar.\n\nThird, cavalry is the arm for movement and great decisions; its\nincrease beyond the ordinary proportions is therefore important if the\nwar extends over a great space, if expeditions are to be made in\nvarious directions, and great and decisive blows are intended.\nBuonaparte is an example of this.\n\nThat the offensive and defensive do not properly in themselves exercise\nan influence on the proportion of cavalry will only appear plainly when\nwe come to speak of these two methods of acting in war; in the\nmeantime, we shall only remark that both assailant and defender as a\nrule traverse the same spaces in war, and may have also, at least in\nmany cases, the same decisive intentions. We remind our readers of the\ncampaign of 1812.\n\nIt is commonly believed that, in the middle ages, cavalry was much more\nnumerous in proportion to infantry, and that the difference has been\ngradually on the decrease ever since. Yet this is a mistake, at least\npartly. The proportion of cavalry was, according to numbers, on the\naverage perhaps, not much greater; of this we may convince ourselves by\ntracing, through the history of the middle ages, the detailed\nstatements of the armed forces then employed. Let us only think of the\nmasses of men on foot who composed the armies of the Crusaders, or the\nmasses who followed the Emperors of Germany on their Roman expeditions.\nIt was in reality the importance of the cavalry which was so much\ngreater in those days; it was the stronger arm, composed of the flower\nof the people, so much so that, although always very much weaker\nactually in numbers, it was still always looked upon as the chief\nthing, infantry was little valued, hardly spoken of; hence has arisen\nthe belief that its numbers were few. No doubt it happened oftener than\nit does now, that in incursions of small importance in France, Germany,\nand Italy, a small army was composed entirely of cavalry; as it was the\nchief arm, there is nothing inconsistent in that; but these cases\ndecide nothing if we take a general view, as they are greatly\noutnumbered by cases of greater armies of the period constituted\ndifferently. It was only when the obligations to military service\nimposed by the feudal laws had ceased, and wars were carried on by\nsoldiers enlisted, hired, and paid\u2014when, therefore, wars depended on\nmoney and enlistment, that is, at the time of the Thirty Years\u2019 War,\nand the wars of Louis XIV.\u2014that this employment of great masses of\nalmost useless infantry was checked, and perhaps in those days they\nmight have fallen into the exclusive use of cavalry, if infantry had\nnot just then risen in importance through the improvements in\nfire-arms, by which means it maintained its numerical superiority in\nproportion to cavalry; at this period, if infantry was weak, the\nproportion was as one to one, if numerous as three to one.\n\nSince then cavalry has always decreased in importance according as\nimprovements in the use of fire-arms have advanced. This is\nintelligible enough in itself, but the improvement we speak of does not\nrelate solely to the weapon itself and the skill in handling it; we\nadvert also to greater ability in using troops armed with this weapon.\nAt the battle of Mollwitz the Prussian army had brought the fire of\ntheir infantry to such a state of perfection, that there has been no\nimprovement since then in that sense. On the other hand, the use of\ninfantry in broken ground and as skirmishers has been introduced more\nrecently, and is to be looked upon as a very great advance in the art\nof destruction.\n\nOur opinion is, therefore, that the relation of cavalry has not much\nchanged as far as regards numbers, but as regards its importance, there\nhas been a great alteration. This seems to be a contradiction, but is\nnot so in reality. The infantry of the middle ages, although forming\nthe greater proportion of an army, did not attain to that proportion by\nits value as compared to cavalry, but because all that could not be\nappointed to the very costly cavalry were handed over to the infantry;\nthis infantry was, therefore, merely a last resource; and if the number\nof cavalry had depended merely on the value set on that arm, it could\nnever have been too great. Thus we can understand how cavalry, in spite\nof its constantly decreasing importance, may still, perhaps, have\nimportance enough to keep its numerical relation at that point which it\nhas hitherto so constantly maintained.\n\nIt is a remarkable fact that, at least since the wars of the Austrian\nsuccession, the proportion of cavalry to infantry has changed very\nlittle, the variation being constantly between a fourth, a fifth or a\nsixth; this seems to indicate that those proportions meet the natural\nrequirements of an army, and that these numbers give the solution which\nit is impossible to find in a direct manner. We doubt, however, if this\nis the case, and we find the principal instances of the employment of a\nnumerous cavalry sufficiently accounted for by other causes.\n\nAustria and Russia are states which have kept up a numerous cavalry,\nbecause they retain in their political condition the fragments of a\nTartar organisation. Buonaparte for his purposes could never be strong\nenough in cavalry; when he had made use of the conscription as far as\npossible, he had no ways of strengthening his armies, but by increasing\nthe auxiliary arms, as they cost him more in money than in men. Besides\nthis, it stands to reason that in military enterprises of such enormous\nextent as his, cavalry must have a greater value than in ordinary\ncases.\n\nFrederick the Great it is well known reckoned carefully every recruit\nthat could be saved to his country; it was his great business to keep\nup the strength of his army, as far as possible at the expense of other\ncountries. His reasons for this are easy to conceive, if we remember\nthat his small dominions did not then include Prussia and the\nWestphalian provinces. Cavalry was kept complete by recruitment more\neasily than infantry, irrespective of fewer men being required; in\naddition to which, his system of war was completely founded on the\nmobility of his army, and thus it was, that while his infantry\ndiminished in number, his cavalry was always increasing itself till the\nend of the Seven Years\u2019 War. Still at the end of that war it was hardly\nmore than a fourth of the number of infantry that he had in the field.\n\nAt the period referred to there is no want of instances, also of armies\nentering the field unusually weak in cavalry, and yet carrying off the\nvictory. The most remarkable is the battle of Gross-gorschen. If we\nonly count the French divisions which took part in the battle,\nBuonaparte was 100,000 strong, of which 5,000 were cavalry, 90,000\ninfantry; the Allies had 70,000, of which 25,000 were cavalry and\n40,000 infantry. Thus, in place of the 20,000 cavalry on the side of\nthe Allies in excess of the total of the French cavalry, Buonaparte had\nonly 50,000 additional infantry when he ought to have had 100,000. As\nhe gained the battle with that superiority in infantry, we may ask\nwhether it was at all likely that he would have lost it if the\nproportions had been 140,000 to 40,000.\n\nCertainly the great advantage of our superiority in cavalry was shown\nimmediately after the battle, for Buonaparte gained hardly any trophies\nby his victory. The gain of a battle is therefore not everything,\u2014but\nis it not always the chief thing?\n\nIf we put together these considerations, we can hardly believe that the\nnumerical proportion between cavalry and infantry which has existed for\nthe last eighty years is the natural one, founded solely on their\nabsolute value; we are much rather inclined to think, that after many\nfluctuations, the relative proportions of these arms will change\nfurther in the same direction as hitherto, and that the fixed number of\ncavalry at last will be considerably less.\n\nWith respect to artillery, the number of guns has naturally increased\nsince its first invention, and according as it has been made lighter\nand otherwise improved; still since the time of Frederick the Great, it\nhas also kept very much to the same proportion of two or three guns per\n1,000 men, we mean at the commencement of a campaign; for during its\ncourse artillery does not melt away as fast as infantry, therefore at\nthe end of a campaign the proportion is generally notably greater,\nperhaps three, four, or five guns per 1,000 men. Whether this is the\nnatural proportion, or that the increase of artillery may be carried\nstill further, without prejudice to the whole conduct of war, must be\nleft for experience to decide.\n\nThe principal results we obtain from the whole of these considerations,\nare\u2014\n\n1. That infantry is the chief arm, to which the other two are\nsubordinate.\n\n2. That by the exercise of great skill and energy in command, the want\nof the two subordinate arms may in some measure be compensated for,\nprovided that we are much stronger in infantry; and the better the\ninfantry the easier this may be done.\n\n3. That it is more difficult to dispense with artillery than with\ncavalry, because it is the chief principle of destruction, and its mode\nof fighting is more amalgamated with that of infantry.\n\n4. That artillery being the strongest arm, as regards destructive\naction, and cavalry the weakest in that respect, the question must in\ngeneral arise, how much artillery can we have without inconvenience,\nand what is the least proportion of cavalry we require?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Order of Battle of an Army\n\nThe order of battle is that division and formation of the different\narms into separate parts or sections of the whole Army, and that form\nof general position or disposition of those parts which is to be the\nnorm throughout the whole campaign or war.\n\nIt consists, therefore, in a certain measure, of an arithmetical and a\ngeometrical element, _the division_ and the _form of disposition_. The\nfirst proceeds from the permanent peace organisation of the army;\nadopts as units certain parts, such as battalions, squadrons, and\nbatteries, and with them forms units of a higher order up to the\nhighest of all, the whole army, according to the requirements of\npredominating circumstances. In like manner, the form of disposition\ncomes from the elementary tactics, in which the army is instructed and\nexercised in time of peace, which must be looked upon as a property in\nthe troops that cannot be essentially modified at the moment war breaks\nout, the disposition connects these tactics with the conditions which\nthe use of the troops in war and in large masses demands, and thus it\nsettles in a general way the rule or norm in conformity with which the\ntroops are to be drawn up for battle.\n\nThis has been invariably the case when great armies have taken the\nfield, and there have been times when this form was considered as the\nmost essential part of the battle.\n\nIn the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when the improvements in\nthe firearms of infantry occasioned a great increase of that arm, and\nallowed of its being deployed in such long thin lines, the order of\nbattle was thereby simplified, but, at the same time it became more\ndifficult and more artificial in the carrying out, and as no other way\nof disposing of cavalry at the commencement of a battle was known but\nthat of posting them on the wings, where they were out of the fire and\nhad room to move, therefore in the order of battle the army always\nbecame a closed inseparable whole. If such an army was divided in the\nmiddle, it was like an earthworm cut in two: the wings had still life\nand the power of motion, but they had lost their natural functions. The\narmy lay, therefore, in a manner under a spell of unity, and whenever\nany parts of it had to be placed in a separate position, a small\norganisation and disorganisation became necessary. The marches which\nthe whole army had to make were a condition in which, to a certain\nextent, it found itself out of rule. If the enemy was at hand, the\nmarch had to be arranged in the most artificial manner, and in order\nthat one line or one wing might be always at the prescribed distance\nfrom the other, the troops had to scramble over everything: marches had\nalso constantly to be stolen from the enemy, and this perpetual theft\nonly escaped severe punishment through one circumstance, which was,\nthat the enemy lay under the same ban.\n\nHence, when, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, it was\ndiscovered that cavalry would serve just as well to protect a wing if\nit stood in rear of the army as if it were placed on the prolongation\nof the line, and that, besides this, it might be applied to other\npurposes than merely fighting a duel with the enemy\u2019s cavalry, a great\nstep in advance was made, because now the army in its principal\nextension or front, which is always the breadth of its order of battle\n(position), consisted entirely of homogeneous members, so that it could\nbe formed of any number of parts at pleasure, each part like another\nand like the whole. In this way it ceased to be one single piece and\nbecame an articulated whole, consequently pliable and manageable: the\nparts might be separated from the whole and then joined on again\nwithout difficulty, the order of battle always remained the same.\u2014Thus\narose the corps consisting of all arms, that is, thus such an\norganisation became possible, for the want of it had been felt long\nbefore.\n\nThat all this relates to the combat is very natural. The battle was\nformerly the whole war, and will always continue to be the principal\npart of it; but, the order of battle belongs generally more to tactics\nthan strategy, and it is only introduced here to show how tactics in\norganising the whole into smaller wholes made preparations for\nstrategy.\n\nThe greater armies become, the more they are distributed over wide\nspaces and the more diversified the action and reaction of the\ndifferent parts amongst themselves, the wider becomes the field of\nstrategy, and, therefore, then the order of battle, in the sense of our\ndefinition, must also come into a kind of reciprocal action with\nstrategy, which manifests itself chiefly at the extreme points where\ntactics and strategy meet, that is, at those moments when the general\ndistribution of the combatant forces passes into the special\ndispositions for the combat.\n\nWe now turn to those three points, the _division, combination of arms_,\nand _order of battle_ (_disposition_) in a strategic point of view.\n\n1.\u2014Division.\n\n\nIn strategy we must never ask what is to be the strength of a division\nor a corps, but how many corps or division an army should have. There\nis nothing more unmanageable than an army divided into three parts,\nexcept it be one divided into only two, in which case the chief command\nmust be almost neutralised.\n\nTo fix the strength of great and small corps, either on the grounds of\nelementary tactics or on higher grounds, leaves an incredibly wide\nfield for arbitrary judgment, and heaven knows what strange modes of\nreasoning have sported in this wide field. On the other hand, the\nnecessity of forming an independent whole (army) into a certain number\nof parts is a thing as obvious as it is positive, and this idea\nfurnishes real strategic motives for determining the number of the\ngreater divisions of an army, consequently their strength, whilst the\nstrength of the smaller divisions, such as companies, battalions, etc.,\nis left to be determined by tactics.\n\nWe can hardly imagine the smallest independent body in which there are\nnot at least three parts to be distinguished, that one part may be\nthrown out in advance, and another part be left in rear: that four is\nstill more convenient follows of itself, if we keep in view that the\nmiddle part, being the principal division, ought to be stronger than\neither of the others; in this way, we may proceed to make out eight,\nwhich appears to us to be the most suitable number for an army if we\ntake one part for an advanced guard as a constant necessity, three for\nthe main body, that is a right wing, centre and left wing, two\ndivisions for reserve, and one to detach to the right, one to the left.\nWithout pedantically ascribing a great importance to these numbers and\nfigures, we certainly believe that they represent the most usual and\nfrequently recurring strategic disposition, and on that account one\nthat is convenient.\n\nCertainly it seems that the supreme direction of an army (and the\ndirection of every whole) must be greatly facilitated if there are only\nthree or four subordinates to command, but the commander-in-chief must\npay dearly for this convenience in a twofold manner. In the first\nplace, an order loses in rapidity, force, and exactness if the\ngradation ladder down which it has to descend is long, and this must be\nthe case if there are corps-commanders between the division leaders and\nthe chief; secondly, the chief loses generally in his own proper power\nand efficiency the wider the spheres of action of his immediate\nsubordinates become. A general commanding 100,000 men in eight\ndivisions exercises a power which is greater in intensity than if the\n100,000 men were divided into only three corps. There are many reasons\nfor this, but the most important is that each commander looks upon\nhimself as having a kind of proprietary right in his own corps, and\nalways opposes the withdrawal from him of any portion of it for a\nlonger or shorter time. A little experience of war will make this\nevident to any one.\n\nBut on the other hand the number of divisions must not be too great,\notherwise disorder will ensue. It is difficult enough to manage eight\ndivisions from one head quarter, and the number should never be allowed\nto exceed ten. But in a division in which the means of circulating\norders are much less, the smaller normal number four, or at most five,\nmay be regarded as the more suitable.\n\nIf these factors, five and ten, will not answer, that is, if the\nbrigades are too strong, then _corps d\u2019arm\u00e9e_ must be introduced; but\nwe must remember that by so doing, a new power is created, which at\nonce very much lowers all other factors.\n\nBut now, what is too strong a brigade? The custom is to make them from\n2,000 to 5,000 men strong, and there appear to be two reasons for\nmaking the latter number the limit; the first is that a brigade is\nsupposed to be a subdivision which can be commanded by one man\ndirectly, that is, through the compass of his voice: the second is that\nany larger body of infantry should not be left without artillery, and\nthrough this first combination of arms a special division of itself is\nformed.\n\nWe do not wish to involve ourselves in these tactical subtilties,\nneither shall we enter upon the disputed point, where and in what\nproportions the combination of all three arms should take place,\nwhether with divisions of 8,000 to 12,000 men, or with corps which are\n20,000 to 30,000 men strong. The most decided opponent of these\ncombinations will scarcely take exception at the mere assertion, that\nnothing but this combination of the three arms can make a division\nindependent, and that therefore, for such as are intended to be\nfrequently detached separately, it is at least very desirable.\n\nAn army of 200,000 men in ten divisions, the divisions composed of five\nbrigades each, would give brigades 4,000 strong. We see here no\ndisproportion. Certainly this army might also be divided into five\ncorps, the corps into four divisions, and the division into four\nbrigades, which makes the brigade 2,500 men strong; but the first\ndistribution, looked at in the abstract, appears to us preferable, for\nbesides that, in the other, there is one more gradation of rank, five\nparts are too few to make an army manageable; four divisions, in like\nmanner, are too few for a corps, and 2,500 men is a weak brigade, of\nwhich, in this manner, there are eighty, whereas the first formation\nhas only fifty, and is therefore simpler. All these advantages are\ngiven up merely for the sake of having only to send orders to half as\nmany generals. Of course the distribution into corps is still more\nunsuitable for smaller armies.\n\nThis is the abstract view of the case. The particular case may present\ngood reasons for deciding otherwise. Likewise, we must admit that,\nalthough eight or ten divisions may be directed when united in a level\ncountry, in widely extended mountain positions the thing might perhaps\nbe impossible. A great river which divides an army into halves, makes a\ncommander for each half indispensable; in short, there are a hundred\nlocal and particular objects of the most decisive character, before\nwhich all rules must give way.\n\nBut still, experience teaches us, that these abstract grounds come most\nfrequently into use and are seldomer overruled by others than we should\nperhaps suppose.\n\nWe wish further to explain clearly the scope of the foregoing\nconsiderations by a simple outline, for which purpose we now place the\ndifferent points of most importance next to each other.\n\nAs we mean by the term numbers, or parts of a whole, only those which\nare made by the primary, therefore the immediate division, we say.\n\n1. If a whole has too few members it is unwieldy.\n\n2. If the parts of a whole body are too large, the power of the\nsuperior will is thereby weakened.\n\n3. With every additional step through which an order has to pass, it is\nweakened in two ways: in one way by the loss of force, which it suffers\nin its passage through an additional step; in another way by the longer\ntime in its transmission.\n\nThe tendency of all this is to show that the number of co-ordinate\ndivisions should be as great, and the gradational steps as few as\npossible; and the only limitation to this conclusion is, that in armies\nno more than from eight to ten, and in subordinate corps no more than\nfrom four or at most six, subdivisions can be conveniently directed.\n\n2.\u2014Combination of Arms.\n\n\nFor strategy the combination of the three arms in the order of battle\nis only important in regard to those parts of the army which, according\nto the usual order of things, are likely to be frequently employed in a\ndetached position, where they may be obliged to engage in an\nindependent combat. Now it is in the nature of things, that the members\nof the first class, and for the most part only these, are destined for\ndetached positions, because, as we shall see elsewhere, detached\npositions are most generally adopted upon the supposition and the\nnecessity of a body independent in itself.\n\nIn a strict sense strategy would therefore only require a permanent\ncombination of arms in army corps, or where these do not exist, in\ndivisions, leaving it to circumstances to determine when a provisional\ncombination of the three arms shall be made in subdivisions of an\ninferior order.\n\nBut it is easy to see that, when corps are of considerable size, such\nas 30,000 or 40,000 men, they can seldom find themselves in a situation\nto take up a completely connected position in mass. With corps of such\nstrength, a combination of the arms in the divisions is therefore\nnecessary. No one who has had any experience in war, will treat lightly\nthe delay which occurs when pressing messages have to be sent to some\nother perhaps distant point before cavalry can be brought to the\nsupport of infantry\u2014to say nothing of the confusion which takes place.\n\nThe details of the combination of the three arms, how far it should\nextend, how low down it should be carried, what proportions should be\nobserved, the strength of the reserves of each to be set apart\u2014these\nare all purely tactical considerations.\n\n3.\u2014The Disposition.\n\n\nThe determination as to the relations in space, according to which the\nparts of an army amongst themselves are to be drawn up in order of\nbattle, is likewise completely a tactical subject, referring solely to\nthe battle. No doubt there is also a strategic disposition of the\nparts; but it depends almost entirely on determinations and\nrequirements of the moment, and what there is in it of the rational,\ndoes not come within the meaning of the term \u201corder of battle.\u201d We\nshall therefore treat of it in the following chapter under the head of\n_Disposition of an Army_.\n\nThe order of battle of an army is therefore the organisation and\ndisposition of it in mass ready prepared for battle. Its parts are\nunited in such a manner that both the tactical and strategical\nrequirements of the moment can be easily satisfied by the employment of\nsingle parts drawn from the general mass. When such momentary exigency\nhas passed over, these parts resume their original place, and thus the\norder of battle becomes the first step to, and principal foundation of,\nthat wholesome methodicism which, like the beat of a pendulum,\nregulates the work in war, and of which we have already spoken in the\nfourth chapter of the Second Book.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. General Disposition of an Army\n\nBetween the moment of the first assembling of military forces, and that\nof the solution arrived at maturity when strategy has brought the army\nto the decisive point, and each particular part has had its position\nand r\u00f4le pointed out by tactics, there is in most cases a long\ninterval; it is the same between one decisive catastrophe and another.\n\nFormerly these intervals in a certain measure did not belong to war at\nall. Take for example the manner in which Luxemburg encamped and\nmarched. We single out this general because he is celebrated for his\ncamps and marches, and therefore may be considered a representative\ngeneral of his period, and from the _Histoire de la Flandre militaire_,\nwe know more about him than about other generals of the time.\n\nThe camp was regularly pitched with its rear close to a river, or\nmorass, or a deep valley, which in the present day would be considered\nmadness. The direction in which the enemy lay had so little to do with\ndetermining the front of the army, that cases are very common in which\nthe rear was towards the enemy and the front towards their own country.\nThis now unheard of mode of proceeding is perfectly unintelligible,\nunless we suppose that in the choice of camps the convenience of the\ntroops was the chief, indeed almost the only consideration, and\ntherefore look upon the state of being in camp as a state outside of\nthe action of war, a kind of withdrawal behind the scenes, where one is\nquite at ease. The practice of always resting the rear upon some\nobstacle may be reckoned the only measure of security which was then\ntaken, of course, in the sense of the mode of conducting war in that\nday, for such a measure was quite inconsistent with the possibility of\nbeing compelled to fight in that position. But there was little reason\nfor apprehension on that score, because the battles generally depended\non a kind of mutual understanding, like a duel, in which the parties\nrepair to a convenient rendezvous. As armies, partly on account of\ntheir numerous cavalry, which in the decline of its splendour was still\nregarded, particularly by the French, as the principal arm, partly on\naccount of the unwieldy organisation of their order of battle, could\nnot fight in every description of country, an army in a close broken\ncountry was as it were under the protection of a neutral territory, and\nas it could itself make but little use of broken ground, therefore, it\nwas deemed preferable to go to meet an enemy seeking battle. We know,\nindeed, that Luxemburg\u2019s battles at Fleurus, Stienkirk, and Neerwinden,\nwere conceived in a different spirit; but this spirit had only just\nthen under this great general freed itself from the old method, and it\nhad not yet reacted on the method of encampment. Alterations in the art\nof war originate always in matters of a decisive nature, and then lead\nby degrees to modifications in other things. The expression _il va \u00e0 la\nguerre_, used in reference to a partizan setting out to watch the\nenemy, shows how little the state of an army in camp was considered to\nbe a state of real warfare.\n\nIt was not much otherwise with the marches, for the artillery then\nseparated itself completely from the rest of the army, in order to take\nadvantage of better and more secure roads, and the cavalry on the wings\ngenerally took the right alternately, that each might have in turn its\nshare of the honour of marching on the right.\n\nAt present (that is, chiefly since the Silesian wars) the situation out\nof battle is so thoroughly influenced by its connection with battle\nthat the two states are in intimate correlation, and the one can no\nlonger be completely imagined without the other. Formerly in a campaign\nthe battle was the real weapon, the situation at other times only the\nhandle\u2014the former the steel blade, the other the wooden haft glued to\nit, the whole therefore composed of heterogeneous parts,\u2014now the battle\nis the edge, the situation out of the battle the back of the blade, the\nwhole to be looked upon as metal completely welded together, in which\nit is impossible any longer to distinguish where the steel ends and the\niron begins.\n\nThis state in war outside of the battle is now partly regulated by the\norganisation and regulations with which the army comes prepared from a\nstate of peace, partly by the tactical and strategic arrangements of\nthe moment. The three situations in which an army may be placed are in\nquarters, on a march, or in camp. All three belong as much to tactics\nas to strategy, and these two branches, bordering on each other here in\nmany ways, often seem to, or actually do, incorporate themselves with\neach other, so that many dispositions may be looked upon at the same\ntime as both tactical and strategic.\n\nWe shall treat of these three situations of an army outside of the\ncombat in a general way, before any special objects come into\nconnection with them; but we must, first of all, consider the general\ndisposition of the forces, because that is a superior and more\ncomprehensive measure, determining as respects camps, cantonments, and\nmarches.\n\nIf we look at the disposition of the forces in a general way, that is,\nleaving out of sight any special object, we can only imagine it as a\nunit, that is, as a whole, intended to fight all together, for any\ndeviation from this simplest form would imply a special object. Thus\narises, therefore, the conception of an army, let it be small or large.\n\nFurther, when there is an absence of any special end, there only\nremains as the sole object the preservation of the army itself, which\nof course includes its security. That the army shall be able to exist\nwithout inconvenience, and that it shall be able to concentrate without\ndifficulty for the purpose of fighting, are, therefore, the two\nrequisite conditions. From these result, as desirable, the following\npoints more immediately applying to subjects concerning the existence\nand security of the army.\n\n1. Facility of subsistence.\n\n2. Facility of providing shelter for the troops.\n\n3. Security of the rear.\n\n4. An open country in front.\n\n5. The position itself in a broken country.\n\n6. Strategic points d\u2019appui.\n\n7. A suitable distribution of the troops.\n\nOur elucidation of these several points is as follows:\n\nThe first two lead us to seek out cultivated districts, and great towns\nand roads. They determine measures in general rather than in\nparticular.\n\nIn the chapter on lines of communication will be found what we mean by\nsecurity of the rear. The first and most important point in this\nrespect is that the centre of the position should be at a right angle\nwith the principal line of retreat adjoining the position.\n\nRespecting the fourth point, an army certainly cannot look over an\nexpanse of country in its front as it overlooks the space directly\nbefore it when in a tactical position for battle. But the strategic\neyes are the advanced guard, scouts and patrols sent forward, spies,\netc., etc., and the service will naturally be easier for these in an\nopen than in an intersected country. The fifth point is merely the\nreverse of the fourth.\n\nStrategical points d\u2019appui differ from tactical in these two respects,\nthat the army need not be in immediate contact with them, and that, on\nthe other hand, they must be of greater extent. The cause of this is\nthat, according to the nature of the thing, the relations to time and\nspace in which strategy moves are generally on a greater scale than\nthose of tactics. If, therefore, an army posts itself at a distance of\na mile from the sea coast or the banks of a great river, it leans\nstrategically on these obstacles, for the enemy cannot make use of such\na space as this to effect a strategic turning movement. Within its\nnarrow limits he cannot adventure on marches miles in length, occupying\ndays and weeks. On the other hand, in strategy, a lake of several miles\nin circumference is hardly to be looked upon as an obstacle; in its\nproceedings, a few miles to the right or left are not of much\nconsequence. Fortresses will become strategic points d\u2019appui, according\nas they are large, and afford a wide sphere of action for offensive\ncombinations.\n\nThe disposition of the army in separate masses may be done with a view\neither to special objects and requirements, or to those of a general\nnature; here we can only speak of the latter.\n\nThe first general necessity is to push forward the advanced guard and\nthe other troops required to watch the enemy.\n\nThe second is that, with very large armies, the reserves are usually\nplaced several miles in rear, and consequently occupy a separate\nposition.\n\nLastly, the covering of both wings of an army usually requires a\nseparate disposition of particular corps.\n\nBy this covering it is not at all meant that a portion of the army is\nto be detached to defend the space round its wings, in order to prevent\nthe enemy from approaching these weak points, as they are called: who\nwould then defend the wings of these flanking corps? This kind of idea,\nwhich is so common, is complete nonsense. The wings of an army are in\nthemselves not weak points of an army for this reason, that the enemy\nalso has wings, and cannot menace ours without placing his own in\njeopardy. It is only if circumstances are unequal, if the enemy\u2019s army\nis larger than ours, if his lines of communication are more secure (see\nLines of Communication), it is only then that the wings become weak\nparts; but of these special cases we are not now speaking, therefore,\nneither of a case in which a flanking corps is appointed in connection\nwith other combinations to defend effectually the space on our wings,\nfor that no longer belongs to the category of general dispositions.\n\nBut although the wings are not particularly weak parts still they are\nparticularly important, because here, on account of flanking movements\nthe defence is not so simple as in front, measures are more complicated\nand require more time and preparation. For this reason it is necessary\nin the majority of cases to protect the wings specially against\nunforeseen enterprises on the part of the enemy, and this is done by\nplacing stronger masses on the wings than would be required for mere\npurposes of observation. To press heavily these masses, even if they\noppose no very serious resistance, more time is required, and the\nstronger they are the more the enemy must develop his forces and his\nintentions, and by that means the object of the measure is attained;\nwhat is to be done further depends on the particular plans of the\nmoment. We may therefore regard corps placed on the wings as lateral\nadvanced guards, intended to retard the advance of the enemy through\nthe space beyond our wings and give us time to make dispositions to\ncounteract his movement.\n\nIf these corps are to fall back on the main body and the latter is not\nto make a backward movement at the same time, then it follows of itself\nthat they must not be in the same line with the front of the main body,\nbut thrown out somewhat forwards, because when a retreat is to be made,\neven without being preceded by a serious engagement, they should not\nretreat directly on the side of the position.\n\nFrom these reasons of a subjective nature, as they relate to the inner\norganisation of an army, there arises a natural system of disposition,\ncomposed of four or five parts according as the reserve remains with\nthe main body or not.\n\nAs the subsistence and shelter of the troops partly decide the choice\nof a position in general, so also they contribute to a disposition in\nseparate divisions. The attention which they demand comes into\nconsideration along with the other considerations above mentioned; and\nwe seek to satisfy the one without prejudice to the other. In most\ncases, by the division of an army into five separate corps, the\ndifficulties of subsistence and quartering will be overcome, and no\ngreat alteration will afterwards be required on their account.\n\nWe have still to cast a glance at the distances at which these\nseparated corps may be allowed to be placed, if we are to retain in\nview the advantage of mutual support, and, therefore, of concentrating\nfor battle. On this subject we remind our readers of what is said in\nthe chapters on the duration and decision of the combat, according to\nwhich no absolute distance, but only the most general, as it were,\naverage rules can be given, because absolute and relative strength of\narms and country have a great influence.\n\nThe distance of the advanced guard is the easiest to fix, as in\nretreating it falls back on the main body of the army, and, therefore,\nmay be at all events at a distance of a long day\u2019s march without\nincurring the risk of being obliged to fight an independent battle. But\nit should not be sent further in advance than the security of the army\nrequires, because the further it has to fall back the more it suffers.\n\nRespecting corps on the flanks, as we have already said, the combat of\nan ordinary division of 8000 to 10,000 men usually lasts for several\nhours, even for half a day before it is decided; on that account,\ntherefore, there need be no hesitation in placing such a division at a\ndistance of some leagues or one or two miles, and for the same reason,\ncorps of three or four divisions may be detached a day\u2019s march or a\ndistance of three or four miles.\n\nFrom this natural and general disposition of the main body, in four or\nfive divisions at particular distances, a certain method has arisen of\ndividing an army in a mechanical manner whenever there are no strong\nspecial reasons against this ordinary method.\n\nBut although we assume that each of these distinct parts of an army\nshall be competent to undertake an independent combat, and it may be\nobliged to engage in one, it does not therefore by any means follow\nthat the real object of fractioning an army is that the parts should\nfight separately; the necessity for this distribution of the army is\nmostly only a condition of existence imposed by time. If the enemy\napproaches our position to try the fate of a general action, the\nstrategic period is over, everything concentrates itself into the one\nmoment of the battle, and therewith terminates and vanishes the object\nof the distribution of the army. As soon as the battle commences,\nconsiderations about quarters and subsistence are suspended; the\nobservation of the enemy before our front and on our flanks has\nfulfilled the purpose of checking his advance by a partial resistance,\nand now all resolves itself into the one great unit\u2014the great battle.\nThe best criterion of skill in the disposition of an army lies in the\nproof that the distribution has been considered merely as a condition,\nas a necessary evil, but that united action in battle has been\nconsidered the object of the disposition.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Advanced Guard and Out-Posts\n\nThese two bodies belong to that class of subjects into which both the\ntactical and strategic threads run simultaneously. On the one hand we\nmust reckon them amongst those provisions which give form to the battle\nand ensure the execution of tactical plans; on the other hand, they\nfrequently lead to independent combats, and on account of their\nposition, more or less distant from the main body, they are to be\nregarded as links in the strategic chain, and it is this very feature\nwhich obliges us to supplement the preceding chapter by devoting a few\nmoments to their consideration.\n\nEvery body of troops, when not completely in readiness for battle,\nrequires an advanced guard to learn the approach of the enemy, and to\ngain further particulars respecting his force before he comes in sight,\nfor the range of vision, as a rule, does not go much beyond the range\nof firearms. But what sort of man would he be who could not see farther\nthan his arms can reach! The foreposts are the eyes of the army, as we\nhave already said. The want of them, however, is not always equally\ngreat; it has its degrees. The strength of armies and the extent of\nground they cover, time, place, contingencies, the method of making\nwar, even chance, are all points which have an influence in the matter;\nand, therefore, we cannot wonder that military history, instead of\nfurnishing any definite and simple outlines of the method of using\nadvanced guards and outposts, only presents the subject in a kind of\nchaos of examples of the most diversified nature.\n\nSometimes we see the security of an army intrusted to a corps regularly\nappointed to the duty of advanced guard; at another time a long line of\nseparate outposts; sometimes both these arrangements co-exist,\nsometimes neither one nor the other; at one time there is only one\nadvanced guard in common for the whole of the advancing columns; at\nanother time, each column has its own advanced guard. We shall\nendeavour to get a clear idea of what the subject really is, and then\nsee whether we can arrive at some principles capable of application.\n\nIf the troops are on the march, a detachment of more or less strength\nforms its van or advanced guard, and in case of the movement of the\narmy being reversed, this same detachment will form the rearguard. If\nthe troops are in cantonments or camp, an extended line of weak posts,\nforms the vanguard, _the outposts_. It is essentially in the nature of\nthings, that, when the army is halted, a greater extent of space can\nand must be watched than when the army is in motion, and therefore in\nthe one case the conception of a chain of posts, in the other that of a\nconcentrated corps arises of itself.\n\nThe actual strength of an advanced guard, as well as of outposts,\nranges from a considerable corps, composed of an organisation of all\nthree arms, to a regiment of hussars, and from a strongly entrenched\ndefensive line, occupied by portions of troops from each arm of the\nservice, to mere outlying pickets, and their supports detached from the\ncamp. The services assigned to such vanguards range also from those of\nmere observation to an offer of opposition or resistance to the enemy,\nand this opposition may not only be to give the main body of the army\nthe time which it requires to prepare for battle, but also to make the\nenemy develop his plans, and intentions, which consequently makes the\nobservation far more important.\n\nAccording as more or less time is required to be gained, according as\nthe opposition to be offered is calculated upon and intended to meet\nthe special measures of the enemy, so accordingly must the strength of\nthe advanced guard and outposts be proportioned.\n\nFrederick the Great, a general above all others ever ready for battle,\nand who almost directed his army in battle by word of command, never\nrequired strong outposts. We see him therefore constantly encamping\nclose under the eyes of the enemy, without any great apparatus of\noutposts, relying for his security, at one place on a hussar regiment,\nat another on a light battalion, or perhaps on the pickets, and\nsupports furnished from the camp. On the march, a few thousand horse,\ngenerally furnished by the cavalry on the flanks of the first line,\nformed his advanced guard, and at the end of the march rejoined the\nmain body. He very seldom had any corps permanently employed as\nadvanced guard.\n\nWhen it is the intention of a small army, by using the whole weight of\nits mass with great vigour and activity, to make the enemy feel the\neffect of its superior discipline and the greater resolution of its\ncommander, then almost every thing must be done _sous la barbe de\nl\u2019ennemi_, in the same way as Frederick the Great did when opposed to\nDaun. A system of holding back from the enemy, and a very formal, and\nextensive system of outposts would neutralise all the advantages of the\nabove kind of superiority. The circumstance that an error of another\nkind, and the carrying out Frederick\u2019s system too far, may lead to a\nbattle of Hochkirch, is no argument against this method of acting; we\nshould rather say, that as there was only one battle of Hochkirch in\nall the Silesian war, we ought to recognise in this system a proof of\nthe King\u2019s consummate ability.\n\nNapoleon, however, who commanded an army not deficient in discipline\nand firmness, and who did not want for resolution himself, never moved\nwithout a strong advanced guard. There are two reasons for this.\n\nThe first is to be found in the alteration in tactics. A whole army is\nno longer led into battle as one body by mere word of command, to\nsettle the affair like a great duel by more or less skill and bravery;\nthe combatants on each side now range their forces more to suit the\npeculiarities of the ground and circumstances, so that the order of\nbattle, and consequently the battle itself, is a whole made up of many\nparts, from which there follows, that the simple determination to fight\nbecomes a regularly formed plan, and the word of command a more or less\nlong preparatory arrangement. For this time and data are required.\n\nThe second cause lies in the great size of modern armies. Frederick\nbrought thirty or forty thousand men into battle; Napoleon from one to\ntwo hundred thousand.\n\nWe have selected these examples because every one will admit, that two\nsuch generals would never have adopted any systematic mode of\nproceeding without some good reason. Upon the whole, there has been a\ngeneral improvement in the use of advanced guards and outposts in\nmodern wars; not that every one acted as Frederick, even in the\nSilesian wars, for at that time the Austrians had a system of strong\noutposts, and frequently sent forward a corps as advanced guard, for\nwhich they had sufficient reason from the situation in which they were\nplaced. Just in the same way we find differences enough in the mode of\ncarrying on war in more modern times. Even the French Marshals\nMacdonald in Silesia, Oudinot and Ney in the Mark (Brandenburg),\nadvanced with armies of sixty or seventy thousand men, without our\nreading of their having had any advanced guard.\u2014We have hitherto been\ndiscussing advanced guards and outposts in relation to their numerical\nstrength; but there is another difference which we must settle. It is\nthat, when an army advances or retires on a certain breadth of ground,\nit may have a van and rear guard in common for all the columns which\nare marching side by side, or each column may have one for itself. In\norder to form a clear idea on this subject, we must look at it in this\nway.\n\nThe fundamental conception of an advanced guard, when a corps is so\nspecially designated, is that its mission is the security of the main\nbody or centre of the army. If this main body is marching upon several\ncontiguous roads so close together that they can also easily serve for\nthe advanced guard, and therefore be covered by it, then the flank\ncolumns naturally require no special covering.\n\nBut those corps which are moving at great distances, in reality as\ndetached corps, must provide their own van-guards. The same applies\nalso to any of those corps which belong to the central mass, and owing\nto the direction that the roads may happen to take, are too far from\nthe centre column. Therefore there will be as many advanced guards, as\nthere are columns virtually separated from each other; if each of these\nadvanced guards is much weaker than one general one would be, then they\nfall more into the class of other tactical dispositions, and there is\nno advanced guard in the strategic tableau. But if the main body or\ncentre has a much larger corps for its advanced guard, then that corps\nwill appear as the advanced guard of the whole, and will be so in many\nrespects.\n\nBut what can be the reason for giving the centre a van-guard so much\nstronger than the wings? The following three reasons.\n\n1. Because the mass of troops composing the centre is usually much more\nconsiderable.\n\n2. Because plainly the central point of a strip of country along which\nthe front of an army is extended must always be the most important\npoint, as all the combinations of the campaign relate mostly to it, and\ntherefore the field of battle is also usually nearer to it than to the\nwings.\n\n3. Because, although a corps thrown forward in front of the centre does\nnot directly protect the wings as a real vanguard, it still contributes\ngreatly to their security indirectly. For instance, the enemy cannot in\nordinary cases pass by such a corps within a certain distance in order\nto effect any enterprise of importance against one of the wings,\nbecause he has to fear an attack in flank and rear. Even if this check\nwhich a corps thrown forward in the centre imposes on the enemy is not\nsufficient to constitute complete security for the wings, it is at all\nevents sufficient to relieve the flanks from all apprehension in a\ngreat many cases.\n\nThe van-guard of the centre, if much stronger than that of a wing, that\nis to say, if it consists of a special corps as advanced guard, has\nthen not merely the mission of a van-guard intended to protect the\ntroops in its rear from sudden surprise; it also operates in more\ngeneral strategic relations as an army corps thrown forward in advance.\n\nThe following are the purposes for which such a corps may be used, and\ntherefore those which determine its duties in practice.\n\n1. To insure a stouter resistance, and make the enemy advance with more\ncaution; consequently to do the duties of a van-guard on a greater\nscale, whenever our arrangements are such as to require time before\nthey can be carried into effect.\n\n2. If the central mass of the army is very large, to be able to keep\nthis unwieldy body at some distance from the enemy, while we still\nremain close to him with a more moveable body of troops.\n\n3. That we may have a corps of observation close to the enemy, if there\nare any other reasons which require us to keep the principal mass of\nthe army at a considerable distance.\n\nThe idea that weaker look-out posts, mere partisan corps, might answer\njust as well for this observation is set aside at once if we reflect\nhow easily a weak corps might be dispersed, and how very limited also\nare its means of observation as compared with those of a considerable\ncorps.\n\n4. In the pursuit of the enemy. A single corps as advanced guard, with\nthe greater part of the cavalry attached to it, can move quicker,\narriving later at its bivouac, and moving earlier in the morning than\nthe whole mass.\n\n5. Lastly, on a retreat, as rearguard, to be used in defending the\nprincipal natural obstacles of ground. In this respect also the centre\nis exceedingly important. At first sight it certainly appears as if\nsuch a rearguard would be constantly in danger of having its flanks\nturned. But we must remember that, even if the enemy succeeds in\noverlapping the flanks to some extent, he has still to march the whole\nway from there to the centre before he can seriously threaten the\ncentral mass, which gives time to the rearguard of the centre to\nprolong its resistance, and remain in rear somewhat longer. On the\nother hand, the situation becomes at once critical if the centre falls\nback quicker than the wings; there is immediately an appearance as if\nthe line had been broken through, and even the very idea or appearance\nof that is to be dreaded. At no time is there a greater necessity for\nconcentration and holding together, and at no time is this more\nsensibly felt by every one than on a retreat. The intention always is,\nthat the wings in case of extremity should close upon the centre; and\nif, on account of subsistence and roads, the retreat has to be made on\na considerable width (of country), still the movement generally ends by\na concentration on the centre. If we add to these considerations also\nthis one, that the enemy usually advances with his principal force in\nthe centre and with the greatest energy against the centre, we must\nperceive that the rear guard of the centre is of special importance.\n\nAccordingly, therefore, a special corps should always be thrown forward\nas an advanced guard in every case where one of the above relations\noccurs. These relations almost fall to the ground if the centre is not\nstronger than the wings, as, for example, Macdonald when he advanced\nagainst Bl\u00fccher, in Silesia, in 1813, and the latter, when he made his\nmovement towards the Elbe. Both of them had three corps, which usually\nmoved in three columns by different roads, the heads of the columns in\nline. On this account no mention is made of their having had advanced\nguards.\n\nBut this disposition in three columns of equal strength is one which is\nby no means to be recommended, partly on that account, and also because\nthe division of a whole army into three parts makes it very\nunmanageable, as stated in the fifth chapter of the third book.\n\nWhen the whole is formed into a centre with two wings separate from it,\nwhich we have represented in the preceding chapter as the most natural\nformation as long as there is no particular object for any other, the\ncorps forming the advanced guard, according to the simplest notion of\nthe case, will have its place in front of the centre, and therefore\nbefore the line which forms the front of the wings; but as the first\nobject of corps thrown out on the flanks is to perform the same office\nfor the sides as the advanced guard for the front, it will very often\nhappen that these corps will be in line with the advanced guard, or\neven still further thrown forward, according to circumstances.\n\nWith respect to the strength of an advanced guard we have little to\nsay, as now very properly it is the general custom to detail for that\nduty one or more component parts of the army of the first class,\nreinforced by part of the cavalry: so that it consists of a corps, if\nthe army is formed in corps; of a division, if the organisation is in\ndivisions.\n\nIt is easy to perceive that in this respect also the great number of\nhigher members or divisions is an advantage.\n\nHow far the advanced guard should be pushed to the front must entirely\ndepend on circumstances; there are cases in which it may be more than a\nday\u2019s march in advance, and others in which it should be immediately\nbefore the front of the army. If we find that in most cases between one\nand three miles is the distance chosen, that shows certainly that\ncircumstances have usually pointed out this distance as the best; but\nwe cannot make of it a rule by which we are to be always guided.\n\nIn the foregoing observations we have lost sight altogether of\n_outposts_, and therefore we must now return to them again.\n\nIn saying, at the commencement, that the relations between outposts and\nstationary troops is similar to that between advanced guards and troops\nin motion, our object was to refer the conceptions back to their\norigin, and keep them distinct in future; but it is clear that if we\nconfine ourselves strictly to the words we should get little more than\na pedantic distinction.\n\nIf an army on the march halts at night to resume the march next\nmorning, the advanced guard must naturally do the same, and always\norganise the outpost duty, required both for its own security and that\nof the main body, without on that account being changed from an\nadvanced guard into a line of outposts. To satisfy the notion of that\ntransformation, the advanced guard would have to be completely broken\nup into a chain of small posts, having either only a very small force,\nor none at all in a form approaching to a mass. In other words, the\nidea of a line of outposts must predominate over that of a concentrated\ncorps.\n\nThe shorter the time of rest of the army, the less complete does the\ncovering of the army require to be, for the enemy has hardly time to\nlearn from day to day what is covered and what is not. The longer the\nhalt is to be the more complete must be the observation and covering of\nall points of approach. As a rule, therefore, when the halt is long,\nthe vanguard becomes always more and more extended into a line of\nposts. Whether the change becomes complete, or whether the idea of a\nconcentrated corps shall continue uppermost, depends chiefly on two\ncircumstances. The first is the proximity of the contending armies, the\nsecond is the nature of the country.\n\nIf the armies are very close in comparison to the width of their front,\nthen it will often be impossible to post a vanguard between them, and\nthe armies are obliged to place their dependence on a chain of\noutposts.\n\nA concentrated corps, as it covers the approaches to the army less\ndirectly, generally requires more time and space to act efficiently;\nand therefore, if the army covers a great extent of front, as in\ncantonments, and a corps standing in mass is to cover all the avenues\nof approach, it is necessary that we should be at a considerable\ndistance from the enemy; on this account winter quarters, for instance,\nare generally covered by a cordon of posts.\n\nThe second circumstance is the nature of the country; where, for\nexample, any formidable obstacle of ground affords the means of forming\na strong line of posts with but few troops, we should not neglect to\ntake advantage of it.\n\nLastly, in winter quarters, the rigour of the season may also be a\nreason for breaking up the advanced guard into a line of posts, because\nit is easier to find shelter for it in that way.\n\nThe use of a reinforced line of outposts was brought to great\nperfection by the Anglo-Dutch army, during the campaign of 1794 and\n1795, in the Netherlands, when the line of defence was formed by\nbrigades composed of all arms, in single posts, and supported by a\nreserve. Scharnhorst, who was with that army, introduced this system\ninto the Prussian army on the Passarge in 1807. Elsewhere in modern\ntimes, it has been little adopted, chiefly because the wars have been\ntoo rich in movement. But even when there has been occasion for its use\nit has been neglected, as for instance, by Murat, at Tarutino. A wider\nextension of his defensive line would have spared him the loss of\nthirty pieces of artillery in a combat of out-posts.\n\nIt cannot be disputed that in certain circumstances, great advantages\nmay be derived from this system. We propose to return to the subject on\nanother occasion.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Mode of Action of Advanced Corps\n\nWe have just seen how the security of the army is expected, from the\neffect which an advanced guard and flank corps produce on an advancing\nenemy. Such corps are always to be considered as very weak whenever we\nimagine them in conflict with the main body of the enemy, and therefore\na peculiar mode of using them is required, that they may fulfil the\npurpose for which they are intended, without incurring the risk of the\nserious loss which is to be feared from this disproportion in strength.\n\nThe object of a corps of this description, is to observe the enemy, and\nto delay his progress.\n\nFor the first of these purposes a smaller body would never be\nsufficient, partly because it would be more easily driven back, partly\nbecause its means of observation that is its eyes could not reach as\nfar.\n\nBut the observation must be carried to a high point; the enemy must be\nmade to develop his whole strength before such a corps, and thereby\nreveal to a certain extent, not only his force, but also his plans.\n\nFor this its mere presence would be sufficient, and it would only be\nnecessary to wait and see the measures by which the enemy seeks to\ndrive it back, and then commence its retreat at once.\n\nBut further, it must also delay the advance of the enemy, and that\nimplies actual resistance.\n\nNow how can we conceive this waiting until the last moment, as well as\nthis resistance, without such a corps being in constant danger of\nserious loss? Chiefly in this way, that the enemy himself is preceded\nby an advanced guard, and therefore does not advance at once with all\nthe outflanking and overpowering weight of his whole force. Now, if\nthis advance guard is also from the commencement superior to our\nadvanced corps, as we may naturally suppose it is intended it should\nbe, and if the enemy\u2019s main body is also nearer to his advanced guard\nthan we are to ours, and if that main body, being already on the march,\nwill soon be on the spot to support the attack of his advanced guard\nwith all his strength, still this first act, in which our advanced\ncorps has to contend with the enemy\u2019s advanced guard, that is with a\nforce not much exceeding its own, ensures at once a certain gain of\ntime, and thus allows of our watching the adversary\u2019s movements for\nsome time without endangering our own retreat.\n\nBut even a certain amount of resistance which such a corps can offer in\na suitable position is not attended with such disadvantage as we might\nanticipate in other cases through the disproportion in the strength of\nthe forces engaged. The chief danger in a contest with a superior enemy\nconsists always in the possibility of being turned and placed in a\ncritical situation by the enemy enveloping our position; but in the\ncase to which our attention is now directed, a risk of this description\nis very much less, owing to the advancing enemy never knowing exactly\nhow near there may be support from the main body of his opponent\u2019s army\nitself, which may place his advanced column between two fires. The\nconsequence is, that the enemy in advancing keeps the heads of his\nsingle columns as nearly as possible in line, and only begins very\ncautiously to attempt to turn one or other wing after he has\nsufficiently reconnoitred our position. While the enemy is thus feeling\nabout and moving guardedly, the corps we have thrown forward has time\nto fall back before it is in any serious danger.\n\nAs for the length of the resistance which such a corps should offer\nagainst the attack in front, or against the commencement of any turning\nmovement, that depends chiefly on the nature of the ground and the\nproximity of the enemy\u2019s supports. If this resistance is continued\nbeyond its natural measure, either from want of judgment or from a\nsacrifice being necessary in order to give the main body the time it\nrequires, the consequence must always be a very considerable loss.\n\nIt is only in rare instances, and more especially when some local\nobstacle is favourable, that the resistance actually made in such a\ncombat can be of importance, and the duration of the little battle of\nsuch a corps would in itself be hardly sufficient to gain the time\nrequired; that time is really gained in a threefold manner, which lies\nin the nature of the thing, viz.:\n\n1. By the more cautious, and consequently slower advance of the enemy.\n\n2. By the duration of the actual resistance offered.\n\n3. By the retreat itself.\n\nThis retreat must be made as slowly as is consistent with safety. If\nthe country affords good positions they should be made use of, as that\nobliges the enemy to organise fresh attacks and plans for turning\nmovements, and by that means more time is gained. Perhaps in a new\nposition a real combat even may again be fought.\n\nWe see that the opposition to the enemy\u2019s progress by actual fighting\nand the retreat are completely combined with one another, and that the\nshortness of the duration of the fights must be made up for by their\nfrequent repetition.\n\nThis is the kind of resistance which an advanced corps should offer.\nThe degree of effect depends chiefly on the strength of the corps, and\nthe configuration of the country; next on the length of the road which\nthe corps has to march over, and the support which it receives.\n\nA small body, even when the forces on both sides are equal can never\nmake as long a stand as a considerable corps; for the larger the masses\nthe more time they require to complete their action, of whatever kind\nit may be. In a mountainous country the mere marching is of itself\nslower, the resistance in the different positions longer, and attended\nwith less danger, and at every step favourable positions may be found.\n\nAs the distance to which a corps is pushed forward increases so will\nthe length of its retreat, and therefore also the absolute gain of time\nby its resistance; but as such a corps by its position has less power\nof resistance in itself, and is less easily reinforced, its retreat\nmust be made more rapidly in proportion than if it stood nearer the\nmain body, and had a shorter distance to traverse.\n\nThe support and means of rallying afforded to an advanced corps must\nnaturally have an influence on the duration of the resistance, as all\nthe time that prudence requires for the security of the retreat is so\nmuch taken from the resistance, and therefore diminishes its amount.\n\nThere is a marked difference in the time gained by the resistance of an\nadvanced corps when the enemy makes his first appearance after midday;\nin such a case the length of the night is so much additional time\ngained, as the advance is seldom continued throughout the night. Thus\nit was that, in 1815, on the short distance from Charleroi to Ligny,\nnot more than two miles,(*) the first Prussian corps under General\nZiethen, about 30,000 strong, against Buonaparte at the head of 120,000\nmen, was enabled to gain twenty-four hours for the Prussian army then\nengaged in concentrating. The first attack was made on General Ziethen\nabout nine o\u2019clock on the morning of 15th June, and the battle of Ligny\ndid not commence until about two on the afternoon of 16th. General\nZiethen suffered, it is true, very considerable loss, amounting to five\nor six thousand men killed, wounded or prisoners.\n\n(*) Here, as well as elsewhere, by the word mile, the German mile is\nmeant.\u2014Tr.\n\n\nIf we refer to experience the following are the results, which may\nserve as a basis in any calculations of this kind.\n\nA division of ten or twelve thousand men, with a proportion of cavalry,\na day\u2019s march of three or four miles in advance in an ordinary country,\nnot particularly strong, will be able to detain the enemy (including\ntime occupied in the retreat) about half as long again as he would\notherwise require to march over the same ground, but if the division is\nonly a mile in advance, then the enemy ought to be detained about twice\nor three times as long as he otherwise would be on the march.\n\nTherefore supposing the distance to be a march of four miles, for which\nusually ten hours are required, then from the moment that the enemy\nappears in force in front of the advanced corps, we may reckon upon\nfifteen hours before he is in a condition to attack our main body. On\nthe other hand, if the advanced guard is posted only a mile in advance,\nthen the time which will elapse before our army can be attacked will be\nmore than three or four hours, and may very easily come up to double\nthat, for the enemy still requires just as much time to mature his\nfirst measures against our advanced guard, and the resistance offered\nby that guard in its original position will be greater than it would be\nin a position further forward.\n\nThe consequence is, that in the first of these supposed cases the enemy\ncannot easily make an attack on our main body on the same day that he\npresses back the advanced corps, and this exactly coincides with the\nresults of experience. Even in the second case the enemy must succeed\nin driving our advanced guard from its ground in the first half of the\nday to have the requisite time for a general action.\n\nAs the night comes to our help in the first of these supposed cases, we\nsee how much time may be gained by an advanced guard thrown further\nforward.\n\nWith reference to corps placed on the sides or flanks, the object of\nwhich we have before explained, the mode of action is in most cases\nmore or less connected with circumstances which belong to the province\nof immediate application. The simplest way is to look upon them as\nadvanced guards placed on the sides, which being at the same time\nthrown out somewhat in advance, retreat in an oblique direction upon\nthe army.\n\nAs these corps are not immediately in the front of the army, and cannot\nbe so easily supported as a regular advanced guard, they would,\ntherefore, be exposed to greater danger if it was not that the enemy\u2019s\noffensive power in most cases is somewhat less at the outer extremities\nof his line, and in the worst cases such corps have sufficient room to\ngive way without exposing the army so directly to danger as a flying\nadvanced guard would in its rapid retreat.\n\nThe most usual and best means of supporting an advanced corps is by a\nconsiderable body of cavalry, for which reason, when necessary from the\ndistance at which the corps is advanced, the reserve cavalry is posted\nbetween the main body and the advanced corps.\n\nThe conclusion to be drawn from the preceding reflections is, that an\nadvanced corps effects more by its presence than by its efforts, less\nby the combats in which it engages than by the possibility of those in\nwhich it might engage: that it should never attempt to stop the enemy\u2019s\nmovements, but only serve like a pendulum to moderate and regulate\nthem, so that they may be made matter of calculation.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. Camps\n\nWe are now considering the three situations of an army outside of the\ncombat only strategically, that is, so far as they are conditioned by\nplace, time, and the number of the effective force. All those subjects\nwhich relate to the internal arrangement of the combat and the\ntransition into the state of combat belong to tactics.\n\nThe disposition in camps, under which we mean every disposition of an\narmy except in quarters, whether it be in tents, huts, or bivouac, is\nstrategically completely identical with the combat which is contingent\nupon such disposition. Tactically, it is not so always, for we can, for\nmany reasons, choose a site for encamping which is not precisely\nidentical with the proposed field of battle. Having already said all\nthat is necessary on the disposition of an army, that is, on the\nposition of the different parts, we have only to make some observations\non camps in connection with their history.\n\nIn former times, that is, before armies grew once more to considerable\ndimensions, before wars became of greater duration, and their partial\nacts brought into connection with a whole or general plan, and up to\nthe time of the war of the French Revolution, armies always used tents.\nThis was their normal state. With the commencement of the mild season\nof the year they left their quarters, and did not again take them up\nuntil winter set in. Winter quarters at that time must to a certain\nextent be looked upon as a state of no war, for in them the forces were\nneutralised, the whole clockwork stopped, quarters to refresh an army\nwhich preceded the real winter quarters, and other temporary\ncantonments, for a short time within contracted limits were\ntransitional and exceptional conditions.\n\nThis is not the place to enquire how such a periodical voluntary\nneutralisation of power consisted with, or is now consistent with the\nobject and being of war; we shall come to that subject hereafter.\nEnough that it was so.\n\nSince the wars of the French Revolution, armies have completely done\naway with the tents on account of the encumbrance they cause. Partly it\nis found better for an army of 100,000 men to have, in place of 6,000\ntent horses, 5,000 additional cavalry, or a couple of hundred extra\nguns, partly it has been found that in great and rapid operations a\nload of tents is a hindrance, and of little use.\n\nBut this change is attended with two drawbacks, viz., an increase of\ncasualties in the force, and greater wasting of the country.\n\nHowever slight the protection afforded by a roof of common tent\ncloth,\u2014it cannot be denied that on a long continuance it is great\nrelief to the troops. For a single day the difference is small, because\na tent is little protection against wind and cold, and does not\ncompletely exclude wet; but this small difference, if repeated two or\nthree hundred times in a year, becomes important. A greater loss\nthrough sickness is just a natural result.\n\nHow the devastation of the country is increased through the want of\ntents for the troops requires no explanation.\n\nOne would suppose that on account of these two reactionary influences\nthe doing away with tents must have diminished again the energy of war\nin another way, that troops must remain longer in quarters, and from\nwant of the requisites for encampment must forego many positions which\nwould have been possible had tents been forthcoming.\n\nThis would indeed have been the case had there not been, in the same\nepoch of time, an enormous revolution in war generally, which swallowed\nup in itself all these smaller subordinate influences.\n\nThe elementary fire of war has become so overpowering, its energy so\nextraordinary, that these regular periods of rest also have\ndisappeared, and every power presses forward with persistent force\ntowards the great decision, which will be treated of more fully in the\nninth book. Under these circumstances, therefore, any question about\neffects on an army from the discontinuance of the use of tents in the\nfield is quite thrown into the shade. Troops now occupy huts, or\nbivouac under the canopy of heaven, without regard to season of the\nyear, weather, or locality, just according as the general plan and\nobject of the campaign require.\n\nWhether war will in the future continue to maintain, under all\ncircumstances and at all times, this energy, is a question we shall\nconsider hereafter; where this energy is wanting, the want of tents is\ncalculated to exercise some influence on the conduct of war; but that\nthis reaction will ever be strong enough to bring back the use of tents\nis very doubtful, because now that much wider limits have been opened\nfor the elements of war it will never return within its old narrow\nbounds, except occasionally for a certain time and under certain\ncircumstances, only to break out again with the all-powerful force of\nits nature. Permanent arrangements for an army must, therefore, be\nbased only upon that nature.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Marches\n\nMarches are a mere passage from one position to another under two\nprimary conditions.\n\nThe first is the due care of the troops, so that no forces shall be\nsquandered uselessly when they might be usefully employed; the second,\nis precision in the movements, so that they may fit exactly. If we\nmarched 100,000 men in one single column, that is, upon one road\nwithout intervals of time, the rear of the column would never arrive at\nthe proposed destination on the same day with the head of the column;\nwe must either advance at an unusually slow pace, or the mass would,\nlike a thread of water, disperse itself in drops; and this dispersion,\ntogether with the excessive exertion laid upon those in rear owing to\nthe length of the column, would soon throw everything into confusion.\n\nIf from this extreme we take the opposite direction, we find that the\nsmaller the mass of troops in one column the greater the ease and\nprecision with which the march can be performed. The result of this is\nthe need of a _division_ quite irrespective of that division of an army\nin separate parts which belongs to its position; therefore, although\nthe division into columns of march originates in the strategic\ndisposition in general, it does not do so in every particular case. A\ngreat mass which is to be concentrated at any one point must\nnecessarily be divided for the march. But even if a disposition of the\narmy in separate parts causes a march in separate divisions, sometimes\nthe conditions of the primitive disposition, sometimes those of the\nmarch, are paramount. For instance, if the disposition of the troops is\none made merely for rest, one in which a battle is not expected, then\nthe conditions of the march predominate, and these conditions are\nchiefly the choice of good, well-frequented roads. Keeping in view this\ndifference, we choose a road in the one case on account of the quarters\nand camping ground, in the other we take the quarters and camps such as\nthey are, on account of the road. When a battle is expected, and\neverything depends on our reaching a particular point with a mass of\ntroops, then we should think nothing of getting to that point by even\nthe worst by-roads, if necessary; if, on the other hand, we are still\non the journey to the theatre of war, then the nearest great roads are\nselected for the columns, and we look out for the best quarters and\ncamps that can be got near them.\n\nWhether the march is of the one kind or the other, if there is a\npossibility of a combat, that is within the whole region of actual war,\nit is an invariable rule in the modern art of war to organise the\ncolumns so that the mass of troops composing each column is fit of\nitself to engage in an independent combat. This condition is satisfied\nby the combination of the three arms, by an organised subdivision of\nthe whole, and by the appointment of a competent commander. Marches,\ntherefore, have been the chief cause of the new order of battle, and\nthey profit most by it.\n\nWhen in the middle of the last century, especially in the theatre of\nwar in which Frederick II. was engaged, generals began to look upon\nmovement as a principle belonging to fighting, and to think of gaining\nthe victory by the effect of unexpected movements, the want of an\norganised order of battle caused the most complicated and laborious\nevolutions on a march. In carrying out a movement near the enemy, an\narmy ought to be always ready to fight; but at that time they were\nnever ready to fight unless the whole army was collectively present,\nbecause nothing less than the army constituted a complete whole. In a\nmarch to a flank, the second line, in order to be always at the\nregulated distance, that is about a quarter of a mile from the first,\nhad to march up hill and down dale, which demanded immense exertion, as\nwell as a great stock of local knowledge; for where can one find two\ngood roads running parallel at a distance of a quarter of a mile from\neach other? The cavalry on the wings had to encounter the same\ndifficulties when the march was direct to the front. There was other\ndifficulty with the artillery, which required a road for itself,\nprotected by infantry; for the lines of infantry required to be\ncontinuous lines, and the artillery increased the length of their\nalready long trailing columns still more, and threw all their regulated\ndistances into disorder. It is only necessary to read the dispositions\nfor marches in Tempelhof\u2019s History of the Seven Years\u2019 War, to be\nsatisfied of all these incidents and of the restraints thus imposed on\nthe action of war.\n\nBut since then the modern art of war has subdivided armies on a regular\nprinciple, so that each of the principal parts forms in itself a\ncomplete whole, of small proportions, but capable of acting in battle\nprecisely like the great whole, except in one respect, which is, that\nthe duration of its action must be shorter. The consequence of this\nchange is, that even when it is intended that the whole force should\ntake part in a battle, it is no longer necessary to have the columns so\nclose to each other that they may unite before the commencement of the\ncombat; it is sufficient now if the concentration takes place in the\ncourse of the action.\n\nThe smaller a body of troops the more easily it can be moved, and\ntherefore the less it requires that subdivision which is not a result\nof the separate disposition, but of the unwieldiness of the mass. A\nsmall body, therefore, can march upon one road, and if it is to advance\non several lines it easily finds roads near each other which are as\ngood as it requires. The greater the mass the greater becomes the\nnecessity for subdividing, the greater becomes the number of columns,\nand the want of made roads, or even great high roads, consequently also\nthe distance of the columns from each other. Now the danger of this\nsubdivision is arithmetically expressed in an inverse ratio to the\nnecessity for it. The smaller the parts are, the more readily must they\nbe able to render assistance to each other; the larger they are, the\nlonger they can be left to depend on themselves. If we only call to\nmind what has been said in the preceding book on this subject, and also\nconsider that in cultivated countries at a few miles distance from the\nmain road there are always other tolerably good roads running in a\nparallel direction, it is easy to see that, in regulating a march,\nthere are no great difficulties which make rapidity and precision in\nthe advance incompatible with the proper concentration of force. In a\nmountainous country parallel roads are both scarce, and the\ndifficulties of communication between them great; but the defensive\npowers of a single column are very much greater.\n\nIn order to make this idea clearer let us look at it for a moment in a\nconcrete form.\n\nA division of 8,000 men, with its artillery and other carriages, takes\nup, as we know by experience in ordinary cases, a space of one league;\nif, therefore, two divisions march one after the other on the same\nroad, the second arrives one hour after the first; but now, as said in\nthe sixth chapter of the fourth book, a division of this strength is\nquite capable of maintaining a combat for several hours, even against a\nsuperior force, and, therefore, supposing the worst, that is, supposing\nthe first had to commence a fight instantaneously, still the second\ndivision would not arrive too late. Further, within a league right and\nleft of the road on which we march, in the cultivated countries of\ncentral Europe there are, generally, lateral roads which can be used\nfor a march, so that there is no necessity to go across country, as was\nso often done in the Seven Years\u2019 War.\n\nAgain, it is known by experience that the head of a column composed of\nfour divisions and a reserve of cavalry, even on indifferent roads,\ngenerally gets over a march of three miles in eight hours; now, if we\nreckon for each division one league in depth, and the same for the\nreserve cavalry and artillery, then the whole march will last thirteen\nhours. This is no great length of time, and yet in this case forty\nthousand men would have marched over the same road. But with such a\nmass as this we can make use of lateral roads, which are to be found at\na greater distance, and therefore easily shorten the march. If the mass\nof troops marching on the same road is still greater than above\nsupposed, then it is a case in which the arrival of the whole on the\nsame day is no longer indispensable, for such masses never give battle\nnow the moment they meet, usually not until the next day.\n\nWe have introduced these concrete cases, not as exhausting\nconsiderations of this kind, but to make ourselves more intelligible,\nand by means of this glance at the results of experience to show that\nin the present mode of conducting war the organisation of marches no\nlonger offers such great difficulties; that the most rapid marches,\nexecuted with the greatest precision, no longer require either that\npeculiar skill or that exact knowledge of the country which was needed\nfor Frederick\u2019s rapid and exact marches in the Seven Years\u2019 War.\nThrough the existing organisation of armies, they rather go on now\nalmost of themselves, at least without any great preparatory plans. In\ntimes past, battles were conducted by mere word of command, but marches\nrequired a regular plan, now the order of battle requires the latter,\nand for a march the word of command almost suffices.\n\nAs is well known, all marches are either perpendicular [to the front]\nor parallel. The latter, also called flank marches, alter the\ngeometrical position of the divisions; those parts which, in position,\nwere in line, will follow one another, and _vice versa_. Now, although\nthe line of march may be at any angle with the front, still the order\nof the march must decidedly be of one or other of these classes.\n\nThis geometrical alteration could only be completely carried out by\ntactics, and by it only through the file-march as it is called, which,\nwith great masses, is impossible. Far less is it possible for strategy\nto do it. The parts which changed their geometrical relation in the old\norder of battle were only the centre and wings; in the new they are the\ndivisions of the first rank corps, divisions, or even brigades,\naccording to the organisation of the army. Now, the consequences above\ndeduced from the new order of battle have an influence here also, for\nas it is no longer so necessary, as formerly, that the whole army\nshould be assembled before action commences, therefore the greater care\nis taken that those troops which march together form one whole (a\nunit). If two divisions were so placed that one formed the reserve to\nthe other, and that they were to advance against the enemy upon two\nroads, no one would think of sending a portion of each division by each\nof the roads, but a road would at once be assigned to each division;\nthey would therefore march side by side, and each general of division\nwould be left to provide a reserve for himself in case of a combat.\nUnity of command is much more important than the original geometrical\nrelation; if the divisions reach their new position without a combat,\nthey can resume their previous relations. Much less if two divisions,\nstanding together, are to make a _parallel_ (flank) march upon two\nroads should we think of placing the second line or reserve of each\ndivision on the rear road; instead of that, we should allot to each of\nthe divisions one of the roads, and therefore during the march consider\none division as forming the reserve to the other. If an army in four\ndivisions, of which three form the front line and the fourth the\nreserve, is to march against the enemy in that order, then it is\nnatural to assign a road to each of the divisions in front, and cause\nthe reserve to follow the centre. If there are not three roads at a\nsuitable distance apart, then we need not hesitate at once to march\nupon two roads, as no serious inconvenience can arise from so doing.\n\nIt is the same in the opposite case, the flank march.\n\nAnother point is the march off of columns from the right flank or left.\nIn parallel marches (marches to a flank) the thing is plain in itself.\nNo one would march off from the right to make a movement to the left\nflank. In a march to the front or rear, the order of march should\nproperly be chosen according to the direction of the lines of roads in\nrespect to the future line of deployment. This may also be done\nfrequently in tactics, as its spaces are smaller, and therefore a\nsurvey of the geometrical relations can be more easily taken. In\nstrategy it is quite impossible, and therefore although we have seen\nhere and there a certain analogy brought over into strategy from\ntactics, it was mere pedantry. Formerly the whole order of march was a\npurely tactical affair, because the army on a march remained always an\nindivisible whole, and looked to nothing but a combat of the whole; yet\nnevertheless Schwerin, for example, when he marched off from his\nposition near Brandeis, on the 5th of May, could not tell whether his\nfuture field of battle would be on his right or left, and on this\naccount he was obliged to make his famous countermarch.\n\nIf an army in the old order of battle advanced against the enemy in\nfour columns, the cavalry in the first and second lines on each wing\nformed the two exterior columns, the two lines of infantry composing\nthe wings formed the two central columns. Now these columns could march\noff all from the right or all from the left, or the right wing from the\nright, the left wing from the left, or the left from the right, and the\nright from the left. In the latter case it would have been called\n\u201cdouble column from the centre.\u201d But all these forms, although they\nought to have had a relation directly to the future deployment, were\nreally all quite indifferent in that respect. When Frederick the Great\nentered on the battle of Leuthen, his army had been marched off by\nwings from the right in four columns, therefore the wonderful\ntransition to a march off in order of battle, as described by all\nwriters of history, was done with the greatest ease, because it\nhappened that the king chose to attack the left wing of the Austrians;\nhad he wanted to turn their right, he must have countermarched his\narmy, as he did at Prague.\n\nIf these forms did not meet that object in those days, they would be\nmere trifling as regards it now. We know now just as little as formerly\nthe situation of the future battle-field in reference to the road we\ntake; and the little loss of time occasioned by marching off in\ninverted order is now infinitely less important than formerly. The new\norder of battle has further a beneficial influence in this respect,\nthat it is now immaterial which division arrives first or which brigade\nis brought under fire first.\n\nUnder these circumstances the march off from the right or left is of no\nconsequence now, otherwise than that when it is done alternately it\ntends to equalise the fatigue which the troops undergo. This, which is\nthe only object, is certainly an important one for retaining both modes\nof marching off with large bodies.\n\nThe advance from the centre as a definite evolution naturally comes to\nan end on account of what has just been stated, and can only take place\naccidentally. An advance from the centre by one and the same column in\nstrategy is, in point of fact, nonsense, for it supposes a double road.\n\nThe order of march belongs, moreover, more to the province of tactics\nthan to that of strategy, for it is the division of a whole into parts,\nwhich, after the march, are once more to resume the state of a whole.\nAs, however, in modern warfare the formal connection of the parts is\nnot required to be constantly kept up during a march, but on the\ncontrary, the parts during the march may become further separated, and\ntherefore be left more to their own resources, therefore it is much\neasier now for independent combats to happen in which the parts have to\nsustain themselves, and which, therefore must be reckoned as complete\ncombats in themselves, and on that account we have thought it necessary\nto say so much on the subject.\n\nFurther, an order of battle in three parts in juxtaposition being, as\nwe have seen in the second 1 chapter of this book, the most natural\nwhere no special object predominates, from that results also that the\norder of march in three columns is the most natural.\n\nIt only remains to observe that the notion of a column in strategy does\nnot found itself mainly on the line of march of one body of troops. The\nterm is used in strategy to designate masses of troops marching on the\nsame road on different days as well. For the division into columns is\nmade chiefly to shorten and facilitate the march, as a small number\nmarches quicker and more conveniently than large bodies. But this end\nmay, be attained by marching troops on different days, as well as by\nmarching them on different roads.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. Marches (_Continued_)\n\nRespecting the length of a march and the time it requires, it is\nnatural for us to depend on the general results of experience.\n\nFor our modern armies it has long been settled that a march of three\nmiles should be the usual day\u2019s work which, on long distances, may be\nset down as an average distance of two miles per day, allowing for the\nnecessary rest days, to make such repairs of all kinds as may be\nrequired.\n\nSuch a march in a level country, and on tolerable roads will occupy a\ndivision of 8,000 men from eight to ten hours; in a hilly country from\nten to twelve hours. If several divisions are united in one column, the\nmarch will occupy a couple of hours longer, without taking into account\nthe intervals which must elapse between the departure of the first and\nsucceeding divisions.\n\nWe see, therefore, that the day is pretty well occupied with such a\nmarch; that the fatigue endured by a soldier loaded with his pack for\nten or twelve hours is not to be judged of by that of an ordinary\njourney of three miles on foot which a person, on tolerable roads,\nmight easily get over in five hours.\n\nThe longest marches to be found in exceptional instances are of five,\nor at most six miles a day; for a continuance four.\n\nA march of five miles requires a halt for several hours; and a division\nof 8,000 men will not do it, even on a good road, in less than sixteen\nhours. If the march is one of six miles, and that there are several\ndivisions in the column, we may reckon upon at least twenty hours.\n\nWe here mean the march of a number of whole divisions at once, from one\ncamp to another, for that is the usual form of marches made on a\ntheatre of war. When several divisions are to march in one column, the\nfirst division to move is assembled and marched off earlier than the\nrest, and therefore arrives at its camping ground so much the sooner.\nAt the same time this difference can still never amount to the whole\ntime, which corresponds to the depth of a division on the line of\nmarch, and which is so well expressed in French, as the time it\nrequires for its _d\u00e9coulement_ (running down). The soldier is,\ntherefore, saved very little fatigue in this way, and every march is\nvery much lengthened in duration in proportion as the number of troops\nto be moved increases. To assemble and march off the different brigades\nof a division, in like manner at different times, is seldom\npracticable, and for that reason we have taken the division itself as\nthe unit.\n\nIn long distances, when troops march from one cantonment into another,\nand go over the road in small bodies, and without points of assembly,\nthe distance they go over daily may certainly be increased, and in\npoint of fact it is so, from the necessary detours in getting to\nquarters.\n\nBut those marches, on which troops have to assemble daily in divisions,\nor perhaps in corps, and have an additional move to get into quarters,\ntake up the most time, and are only advisable in rich countries, and\nwhere the masses of troops are not too large, as in such cases the\ngreater facilility of subsistence and the advantage of the shelter\nwhich the troops obtain compensate sufficiently for the fatigue of a\nlonger march. The Prussian army undoubtedly pursued a wrong system in\ntheir retreat in 1806 in taking up quarters for the troops every night\non account of subsistence. They could have procured subsistence in\nbivouacs, and the army would not have been obliged to spend fourteen\ndays in getting over fifty miles of ground, which, after all, they only\naccomplished by extreme efforts.\n\nIf a bad road or a hilly country has to be marched over, all these\ncalculations as to time and distance undergo such modifications that it\nis difficult to estimate, with any certainty, in any particular case,\nthe time required for a march; much less, then, can any general theory\nbe established. All that theory can do is to direct attention to the\nliability to error with which we are here beset. To avoid it the most\ncareful calculation is necessary, and a large margin for unforeseen\ndelays. The influence of weather and condition of the troops also come\ninto consideration.\n\nSince the doing away with tents and the introduction of the system of\nsubsisting troops by compulsory demands for provisions on the spot, the\nbaggage of an army has been very sensibly diminished, and as a natural\nand most important consequence we look first for an acceleration in the\nmovements of an army, and, therefore, of course, an increase in the\nlength of the day\u2019s march. This, however, is only realized under\ncertain circumstances.\n\nMarches within the theatre of war have been very little accelerated by\nthis means, for it is well known that for many years whenever the\nobject required marches of unusual length it has always been the\npractice to leave the baggage behind or send it on beforehand, and,\ngenerally, to keep it separate from the troops during the continuance\nof such movements, and it had in general no influence on the movement,\nbecause as soon as it was out of the way, and ceased to be a direct\nimpediment, no further trouble was taken about it, whatever damage it\nmight suffer in that way. Marches, therefore, took place in the Seven\nYears\u2019 War, which even now cannot be surpassed; as an instance we cite\nLascy\u2019s march in 1760, when he had to support the diversion of the\nRussians on Berlin, on that occasion he got over the road from\nSchweidnitz to Berlin through Lusatia, a distance of 225 miles, in ten days, averaging, therefore, twenty-two miles a day, which, for\na Corps of 15,000, would be an extraordinary march even in these days.\n\nOn the other hand, through the new method of supplying troops the\nmovements of armies have acquired a new _retarding_ principle. If\ntroops have partly to procure supplies for themselves, which often\nhappens, then they require more time for the service of supply than\nwould be necessary merely to receive rations from provision wagons.\nBesides this, on marches of considerable duration troops cannot be\nencamped in such large numbers at any one point; the divisions must be\nseparated from one another, in order the more easily to manage for\nthem. Lastly, it almost always happens that it is necessary to place\npart of the army, particularly the cavalry, in quarters. All this\noccasions on the whole a sensible delay. We find, therefore, that\nBuonaparte in pursuit of the Prussians in 1806, with a view to cut off\ntheir retreat, and Bl\u00fccher in 1815, in pursuit of the French, with a\nlike object, only accomplished thirty miles in ten days, a rate which\nFrederick the Great was able to attain in his marches from Saxony to\nSilesia and back, notwithstanding all the train that he had to carry\nwith him.\n\nAt the same time the mobility and handiness, if we may use such an\nexpression, of the parts of an army, both great and small, on the\ntheatre of war have very perceptibly gained by the diminution of\nbaggage. Partly, inasmuch as while the number of cavalry and guns is\nthe same, there are fewer horses, and therefore, there is less forage\nrequired; partly, inasmuch as we are no longer so much tied to any one\nposition, because we have not to be for ever looking after a long train\nof baggage dragging after us.\n\nMarches such as that, which, after raising the siege of Olm\u00fctz, 1758,\nFrederick the Great made with 4,000 carriages, the escort of which\nemployed half his army broken up into single battalions and companies,\ncould not be effected now in presence of even the most timid adversary.\n\nOn long marches, as from the Tagus to the Niemen, that lightening of\nthe army is more sensibly felt, for although the usual measure of the\nday\u2019s march remains the same on account of the carriages still\nremaining, yet, in cases of great urgency, we can exceed that usual\nmeasure at a less sacrifice.\n\nGenerally the diminution of baggage tends more to a saving of power\nthan to the acceleration of movement.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Marches (_continued_)\n\nWe have now to consider the destructive influence which marches have\nupon an army. It is so great that it may be regarded as an active\nprinciple of destruction, just as much as the combat.\n\nOne single moderate march does not wear down the instrument, but a\nsuccession of even moderate marches is certain to tell upon it, and a\nsuccession of severe ones will, of course, do so much sooner.\n\nAt the actual scene of war, want of food and shelter, bad broken-up\nroads, and the necessity of being in a perpetual state of readiness for\nbattle, are causes of an excessive strain upon our means, by which men,\ncattle, carriages of every description as well as clothing are ruined.\n\nIt is commonly said that a long rest does not suit the physical health\nof an army; that at such a time there is more sickness than during\nmoderate activity. No doubt sickness will and does occur if soldiers\nare packed too close in confined quarters; but the same thing would\noccur if these were quarters taken up on the march, and the want of air\nand exercise can never be the cause of such sicknesses, as it is so\neasy to give the soldier both by means of his exercises.\n\nOnly think for a moment, when the organism of a human being is in a\ndisordered and fainting state, what a difference it must make to him\nwhether he falls sick in a house or is seized in the middle of a high\nroad, up to his knees in mud, under torrents of rain, and loaded with a\nknapsack on his back; even if he is in a camp he can soon be sent to\nthe next village, and will not be entirely without medical assistance,\nwhilst on a march he must be for hours without any assistance, and then\nbe made to drag himself along for miles as a straggler. How many\ntrifling illnesses by that means become serious, how many serious ones\nbecome mortal. Let us consider how an ordinary march in the dust, and\nunder the burning rays of a summer sun may produce the most excessive\nheat, in which state, suffering from intolerable thirst, the soldier\nthen rushes to the fresh spring of water, to bring back for himself\nsickness and death.\n\nIt is not our object by these reflections to recommend less activity in\nwar; the instrument is there for use, and if the use wears away the\ninstrument that is only in the natural order of things; we only wish to\nsee every thing put in its right place, and to oppose that theoretical\nbombast according to which the most astonishing surprises the most\nrapid movements, the most incessant activity cost nothing, and are\npainted as rich mines which the indolence of the general leaves\nunworked. It is very much the same with these mines as with those from\nwhich gold and silver are obtained; nothing is seen but the produce,\nand no one asks about the value of the work which has brought this\nproduce to light.\n\nOn long marches outside a theatre of war, the conditions under which\nthe march is made are no doubt usually easier, and the daily losses\nsmaller, but on that account men with the slightest sickness are\ngenerally lost to the army for some time, as it is difficult for\nconvalescents to overtake an army constantly advancing.\n\nAmongst the cavalry the number of lame horses and horses with sore\nbacks rises in an increasing ratio, and amongst the carriages many\nbreak down or require repair. It never fails, therefore, that at the\nend of a march of 100 miles or more, an army arrives much weakened,\nparticularly as regards its cavalry and train.\n\nIf such marches are necessary on the theatre of war, that is under the\neyes of the enemy, then that disadvantage is added to the other, and\nfrom the two combined the losses with large masses of troops, and under\nconditions otherwise unfavourable may amount to something incredible.\n\nOnly a couple of examples in order to illustrate our ideas.\n\nWhen Buonaparte crossed the Niemen on 24th June, 1812, the enormous\ncentre of his army with which he subsequently marched against Moscow\nnumbered 301,000 men. At Smolensk, on the 15th August, he detached\n13,500, leaving, it is to be supposed, 287,500. The actual state of his\narmy however at that date was only 182,000; he had therefore lost\n105,000.(*) Bearing in mind that up to that time only two engagements\nto speak of had taken place, one between Davoust and Bragathion, the\nother between Murat and Tolstoy-Osterman, we may put down the losses of\nthe French army in action at 10,000 men at most, and therefore the\nlosses in sick and stragglers within fifty-two days on a march of about\nseventy miles direct to his front, amounted to 95,000, that is a third\npart of the whole army.\n\n(*) All these figures are taken from Chambray. Vergl. Bd. vii. 2te\nAuflage, \u00a7 80, ff.\n\n\nThree weeks later, at the time of the battle of Borodino, the loss\namounted to 144,000 (including the casualties in the battle), and eight\ndays after that again, at Moscow, the number was 198,000. The losses of\nthis army in general were at the commencement of the campaign at the\nrate of 1/150daily, subsequently they rose to 1/120, and in the last\nperiod they increased to 1/19 of the original strength.\n\nThe movement of Napoleon from the passage of the Niemen up to Moscow\ncertainly may be called a persistent one; still, we must not forget\nthat it lasted eighty-two days, in which time he only accomplished 120\nmiles, and that the French army upon two occasions made regular halts,\nonce at Wilna for about fourteen days, and the other time at Witebsk\nfor about eleven days, during which periods many stragglers had time to\nrejoin. This fourteen weeks\u2019 advance was not made at the worst season\nof the year, nor over the worst of roads, for it was summer, and the\nroads along which they marched were mostly sand. It was the immense\nmass of troops collected on one road, the want of sufficient\nsubsistence, and an enemy who was on the retreat, but by no means in\nflight, which were the adverse conditions.\n\nOf the retreat of the French army from Moscow to the Niemen, we shall\nsay nothing, but this we may mention, that the Russian army following\nthem left Kaluga 120,000 strong, and reached Wilna with 30,000. Every\none knows how few men were lost in actual combats during that period.\n\nOne more example from Bl\u00fccher\u2019s campaign of 1813 in Silesia and Saxony,\na campaign very remarkable not for any long march but for the amount of\nmarching to and fro. York\u2019s corps of Bl\u00fccher\u2019s army began this campaign\n16th August about 40,000 strong, and was reduced to 12,000 at the\nbattle of Leipsic, 19th October. The principal combats which this corps\nfought at Goldberg, Lowenberg, on the Katsbach, at Wartenburg, and\nMockern (Leipsic) cost it, on the authority of the best writers, 12,000\nmen. According to that their losses from other causes in eight weeks\namounted to 16,000, or two-fifths of the whole.\n\nWe must, therefore, make up our minds to great wear and tear of our own\nforces, if we are to carry on a war rich in movements, we must arrange\nthe rest of our plan accordingly, and above all things the\nreinforcements which are to follow.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. Cantonments\n\nIn the modern system of war cantonments have become again\nindispensable, because neither tents nor a complete military train make\nan army independent of them. Huts and open-air camps (bivouacs as they\nare called), however far such arrangements may be carried, can still\nnever become the usual way of locating troops without sickness gaining\nthe upper hand, and prematurely exhausting their strength, sooner or\nlater, according to the state of the weather or climate. The campaign\nin Russia in 1812 is one of the few in which, in a very severe climate,\nthe troops, during the six months that it lasted hardly ever lay in\ncantonments. But what was the consequence of this extreme effort, which\nshould be called an extravagance, if that term was not much more\napplicable to the political conception of the enterprise!\n\nTwo things interfere with the occupation of cantonments the proximity\nof the enemy, and the rapidity of movement. For these reasons they are\nquitted as soon as the decision approaches, and cannot be again taken\nup until the decision is over.\n\nIn modern wars, that\u2019s, in all campaigns during the last twenty-five\nyears which occur to us at this moment, the military element has acted\nwith full energy. Nearly all that was possible has generally been done\nin them, as far as regards activity and the utmost effort of force; but\nall these campaigns have been of short duration, they have seldom\nexceeded half a year; in most of them a few months sufficed to bring\nmatters to a crisis, that is, to a point where the vanquished enemy saw\nhimself compelled to sue for an armistice or at once for peace, or to a\npoint where, on the conqueror\u2019s part, the impetus of victory had\nexhausted itself. During this period of extreme effort there could be\nlittle question of cantonments, for even in the victorious march of the\npursuer, if there was no longer any danger, the rapidity of movement\nmade that kind of relief impossible.\n\nBut when from any cause the course of events is less impetuous, when a\nmore even oscillation and balancing of forces takes place, then the\nhousing of troops must again become a foremost subject for attention.\nThis want has some influence even on the conduct of war itself, partly\nin this way, that we seek to gain more time and security by a stronger\nsystem of outposts, by a more considerable advanced guard thrown\nfurther forward; and partly in this way, that our measures are governed\nmore by the richness and fertility of the country than by the tactical\nadvantages which the ground affords in the geometrical relations of\nlines and points. A commercial town of twenty or thirty thousand\ninhabitants, a road thickly studded with large villages or flourishing\ntowns give such facilities for the assembling in one position large\nbodies of troops, and this concentration gives such a freedom and such\na latitude for movement as fully compensate for the advantages which\nthe better situation of some point may otherwise present.\n\nOn the form to be followed in arranging cantonments we have only a few\nobservations to make, as this subject belongs for the most part to\ntactics.\n\nThe housing of troops comes under two heads, inasmuch as it can either\nbe the main point or only a secondary consideration. If the disposition\nof the troops in the course of a campaign is regulated by grounds\npurely tactical and strategical, and if, as is done more especially\nwith cavalry, they are directed for their comfort to occupy the\nquarters available in the vicinity of the point of concentration of the\narmy, then the quarters are subordinate considerations and substitutes\nfor camps; they must, therefore, be chosen within such a radius that\nthe troops can reach the point of assembly in good time. But if an army\ntakes up quarters to rest and refresh, then the housing of the troops\nis the main point, and other measures, consequently also the selection\nof the particular point of assembly, will be influenced by that object.\n\nThe first question for examination here is as to the general form of\nthe cantonments as a whole. The usual form is that of a very long oval,\na mere widening as it were of the tactical order of battle. The point\nof assembly for the army is in front, the head-quarters in rear. Now\nthese three arrangements are, in point of fact, adverse, indeed almost\nopposed, to the safe assembly of the army on the approach of the enemy.\n\nThe more the cantonments form a square, or rather a circle, the quicker\nthe troops can concentrate at one point, that is the centre. The\nfurther the place of assembly is placed in rear, the longer the enemy\nwill be in reaching it, and, therefore, the more time is left us to\nassemble. A point of assembly in rear of the cantonments can never be\nin danger. And, on the other hand, the farther the head-quarters are in\nadvance, so much the sooner reports arrive, therefore so much the\nbetter is the commander informed of everything. At the same time, the\nfirst named arrangements are not devoid of points which deserve some\nattention.\n\nBy the extension of cantonments in width, we have in view the\nprotection of the country which would otherwise be laid under\ncontributions by the enemy. But this motive is neither thoroughly\nsound, nor is it very important. It is only sound as far as regards the\ncountry on the extremity of the wings, but does not apply at all to\nintermediate spaces existing between separate divisions of the army, if\nthe quarters of those divisions are drawn closer round their point of\nassembly, for no enemy will then venture into those intervals of space.\nAnd it is not very important, because there are simpler means of\nshielding the districts in our vicinity from the enemy\u2019s requisitions\nthan scattering the army itself.\n\nThe placing of the point of assembly in front is with a view to\ncovering the quarters, for the following reasons: In the first place, a\nbody of troops, suddenly called to arms, always leaves behind it in\ncantonments a tail of stragglers sick, baggage, provisions, etc., etc.\nwhich may easily fall into the enemy\u2019s hands if the point of assembly\nis placed in rear. In the second place, we have to apprehend that if\nthe enemy with some bodies of cavalry passes by the advanced guard, or\nif it is defeated in any way, he may fall upon scattered regiments or\nbattalions. If he encounters a force drawn up in good order, although\nit is weak, and in the end must be overpowered, still he is brought to\na stop, and in that way time is gained.\n\nAs respects the position of the head-quarters, it is generally supposed\nthat it cannot be made too secure.\n\nAccording to these different considerations, we may conclude that the\nbest arrangement for districts of cantonments is where they take an\noblong form, approaching the square or circle, have the point of\nassembly in the centre, and the head-quarters placed on the front line,\nwell protected by considerable masses of troops.\n\nWhat we have said as to covering of the wings in treating of the\ndisposition of the army in general, applies here also; therefore corps\ndetached from the main body, right and left, although intended to fight\nin conjunction with the rest, will have particular points of assembly\nof their own in the same line with the main body.\n\nNow, if we reflect that the nature of a country, on the one hand, by\nfavourable features in the ground determines the most natural point of\nassembly, and on the other hand, by the positions of towns and villages\ndetermines the most suitable situation for cantonments, then we must\nperceive how very rarely any geometrical form can be decisive in our\npresent subject. But yet it was necessary to direct attention to it,\nbecause, like all general laws, it affects the generality of cases in a\ngreater or less degree.\n\nWhat now remains to be said as to an advantageous position for\ncantonments is that they should be taken up behind some natural\nobstacle of ground affording cover, whilst the sides next the enemy can\nbe watched by small but numerous detached parties; or they may be taken\nup behind fortresses, which, when circumstances prevent any estimate\nbeing formed of the strength of their garrisons, impose upon the enemy\na greater feeling of respect and and caution.\n\nWe reserve the subject of winter quarters, covered by defensive works\nfor a separate article.\n\nThe quarters taken up by troops on a march differ from those called\nstanding cantonments in this way, that, in order to save the troops\nfrom unnecessary marching, cantonments on a march are taken up as much\nas possible along the lines of march, and are not at any considerable\ndistance on either side of these roads; if their extension in this\nsense does not exceed a short day\u2019s march, the arrangement is not one\nat all unfavourable to the quick concentration of the army.\n\nIn all cases in presence of the enemy, according to the technical\nphrase in use, that is in all cases where there is no considerable\ninterval between the advance guards of the two armies respectively, the\nextent of the cantonments and the time required to assemble the army\ndetermine the strength and position of the advanced guard and outposts;\nbut when these must be suited to the enemy and circumstances, then, on\nthe contrary, the extent of the cantonments must depend on the time\nwhich we can count upon by the resistance of the advance guard.\n\nIn the third(*) chapter of this book, we have stated how this\nresistance, in the case of an advanced corps, may be estimated. From\nthe time of that resistance we must deduct the time required for\ntransmission of reports and getting the men under arms, and the\nremainder only is the time available for assembling at the point of\nconcentration.\n\n(*) 8th Chapter.\u2014Tr.\n\n\nWe shall conclude here also by establishing our ideas in the form of a\nresult, such as is usual under ordinary circumstances. If the distance\nat which the advanced guard is detached is the same as the radius of\nthe cantonments, and the point of assembly is fixed in the centre of\nthe cantonments, the time which is gained by checking the enemy\u2019s\nadvance would be available for the transmission of intelligence and\ngetting under arms, and would in most cases be sufficient, even\nalthough the communication is not made by means of signals,\ncannon-shots, etc., but simply by relays of orderlies, the only really\nsure method.\n\nWith an advanced guard pushed forward three miles in front, our\ncantonments might therefore cover a space of thirty square miles. In a\nmoderately-peopled country there would be 10,000 houses in this space,\nwhich for an army of 50,000, after deducting the advanced guard, would\nbe four men to a billet, therefore very comfortable quarters; and for\nan army of twice the strength nine men to a billet, therefore still not\nvery close quarters. On the other hand, if the advanced guard is only\none mile in front, we could only occupy a space of four square miles;\nfor although the time gained does not diminish exactly in proportion as\nthe distance of the advanced guard diminishes, and even with a distance\nof one mile we may still calculate on a gain of six hours, yet the\nnecessity for caution increases when the enemy is so close. But in such\na space an army of 50,000 men could only find partial accommodation,\neven in a very thickly populated country.\n\nFrom all this we see what an important part is played here by great or\nat least considerable towns, which afford convenience for sheltering\n10,000 or even 20,000 men almost at one point.\n\nFrom this result it follows that, if we are not very close to the\nenemy, and have a suitable advanced guard we might remain in\ncantonments, even if the enemy is concentrated, as Frederick the Great\ndid at Breslau in the beginning of the year 1762, and Buonaparte at\nWitebsk in 1812. But although by preserving a right distance and by\nsuitable arrangements we have no reason to fear not being able to\nassemble in time, even opposite an enemy who is concentrated, yet we\nmust not forget that an army engaged in assembling itself in all haste\ncan do nothing else in that time; that it is therefore, for a time at\nleast, not in a condition to avail itself in an instant of fortuitous\nopportunities, which deprives it of the greater part of its really\nefficient power. The consequence of this is, that an army should only\nbreak itself up completely in cantonments under some one or other of\nthe three following cases:\n\n1. If the enemy does the same.\n\n2. If the condition of the troops makes it unavoidable.\n\n3. If the more immediate object with the army is completely limited to\nthe maintenance of a strong position, and therefore the only point of\nimportance is concentrating the troops at that point in good time.\n\nThe campaign of 1815 gives a very remarkable example of the assembly of\nan army from cantonments. General Ziethen, with Bl\u00fccher\u2019s advanced\nguard, 30,000 men, was posted at Charleroi, only two miles from\nSombreff, the place appointed for the assembly of the army. The\nfarthest cantonments of the army were about eight miles from Sombreff,\nthat is, on the one side beyond Ciney, and on the other near Li\u00e9ge.\nNotwithstanding this, the troops cantoned about Ciney were assembled at\nLigny several hours before the battle began, and those near Li\u00e9ge\n(Bulow\u2019s Corps) would have been also, had it not been for accident and\nfaulty arrangements in the communication of orders and intelligence.\n\nUnquestionably, proper care for the security of the Prussian army was\nnot taken; but in explanation we must say that the arrangements were\nmade at a time when the French army was still dispersed over widely\nextended cantonments, and that the real fault consisted in not altering\nthem the moment the first news was received that the enemy\u2019s troops\nwere in movement, and that Buonaparte had joined the army.\n\nStill it remains noteworthy that the Prussian army was able in any way\nto concentrate at Sombreff before the attack of the enemy. Certainly,\non the night of the 14th, that is, twelve hours before Ziethen was\nactually attacked, Bl\u00fccher received information of the advance of the\nenemy, and began to assemble his army; but on the 15th at nine in the\nmorning, Ziethen was already hotly engaged, and it was not until the\nsame moment that General Thielman at Ciney first received orders to\nmarch to Namur. He had therefore then to assemble his divisions, and to\nmarch six and a half miles to Sombreff, which he did in 24 hours.\nGeneral Bulow would also have been able to arrive about the same time,\nif the order had reached him as it should have done.\n\nBut Buonaparte did not resolve to make his attack on Ligny until two in\nthe afternoon of the 16th. The apprehension of having Wellington on the\none side of him, and Bl\u00fccher on the other, in other words, the\ndisproportion in the relative forces, contributed to this slowness;\nstill we see how the most resolute commander may be detained by the\ncautious feeling of the way which is always unavoidable in cases which\nare to a certain degree complicated.\n\nSome of the considerations here raised are plainly more tactical than\nstrategic in their nature; but we have preferred rather to encroach a\nlittle than to run the risk of not being sufficiently explicit.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. Subsistence\n\nThis subject has acquired much greater importance in modern warfare\nfrom two causes in particular. First, because the armies in general are\nnow much greater than those of the middle ages, and even those of the\nold world; for, although formerly armies did appear here and there\nwhich equalled or even surpassed modern ones in size, still these were\nonly rare and transient occurrences, whilst in modern military history,\nsince the time of Louis XIV, armies have always been very strong in\nnumber. But the second cause is still more important, and belongs\nentirely to modern times. It is the very much closer inner connection\nwhich our wars have in themselves, the constant state of readiness for\nbattle of the belligerents engaged in carrying them on. Almost all old\nwars consist of single unconnected enterprises, which are separated\nfrom each other by intervals during which the war in reality either\ncompletely rested, and only still existed in a political sense, or when\nthe armies at least had removed so far from each other that each,\nwithout any care about the army opposite, only occupied itself with its\nown wants.\n\nModern wars, that is, the wars which have taken place since the Peace\nof Westphalia, have, through the efforts of respective governments,\ntaken a more systematic connected form; the military object, in\ngeneral, predominates everywhere, and demands also that arrangements\nfor subsistence shall be on an adequate scale. Certainly there were\nlong periods of inaction in the wars of the seventeenth and eighteenth\ncenturies, almost amounting to a cessation of war; these are the\nregular periods passed in cantonments; still even those periods were\nsubordinate to the military object; they were caused by the inclemency\nof the season, not by any necessity arising out of the subsistence of\nthe troops, and as they regularly terminated with the return of summer,\ntherefore we may say at all events uninterrupted action was the rule of\nwar during the fine season of the year.\n\nAs the transition from one situation or method of action to another\nalways takes place gradually so it was in the case before us. In the\nwars against Louis XIV. the allies used still to send their troops into\nwinter cantonments in distant provinces in order to subsist them the\nmore easily; in the Silesian war that was no longer done.\n\nThis systematic and connected form of carrying on war only became\npossible when states took regular troops into their service in place of\nthe feudal armies. The obligation of the feudal law was then commuted\ninto a fine or contribution: personal service either came to an end,\nenlistment being substituted, or it was only continued amongst the\nlowest classes, as the nobility regarded the furnishing a quota of men\n(as is still done in Russia and Hungary) as a kind of tribute, a tax in\nmen. In every case, as we have elsewhere observed, armies became\nhenceforward, an instrument of the cabinet, their principal basis being\nthe treasury or the revenue of the government.\n\nJust the same kind of thing which took place in the mode of raising and\nkeeping up an establishment of troops could not but follow in the mode\nof subsisting them. The privileged classes having been released from\nthe first of these services on payment of a contribution in money, the\nexpense of the latter could not be again imposed on them quite so\neasily. The cabinet and the treasury had therefore to provide for the\nsubsistence of the army, and could not allow it to be maintained in its\nown country at the expense of the people. Administrations were\ntherefore obliged to look upon the subsistence of the army as an affair\nfor which they were specially responsible. The subsistence thus became\nmore difficult in two ways: first, because it was an affair belonging\nto government, and next, because the forces required to be permanently\nembodied to confront those kept up in other states.\n\nThus arose a separate military class in the population, with an\nindependent organisation provided for its subsistence, and carried out\nto the utmost possible perfection.\n\nNot only were stores of provisions collected, either by purchase or by\ndeliveries in kind from the landed estates (Dominiallieferungen),\nconsequently from distant points, and lodged in magazines, but they\nwere also forwarded from these by means of special wagons, baked near\nthe quarters of the troops in ovens temporarily established, and from\nthence again carried away at last by the troops, by means of another\nsystem of transport attached to the army itself. We take a glance at\nthis system not merely from its being characteristic of the military\narrangements of the period, but also because it is a system which can\nnever be entirely done away; some parts of it must continually\nreappear.\n\nThus military organisation strove perpetually towards becoming more\nindependent of people and country.\n\nThe consequence was that in this manner war became certainly a more\nsystematic and more regular affair, and more subordinated to the\nmilitary, that is the political object; but it was at the same time\nalso much straitened and impeded in its movement, and infinitely\nweakened in energy. For now an army was tied to its magazines, limited\nto the working powers of its transport service, and it naturally\nfollowed that the tendency of everything was to economise the\nsubsistence of the troops. The soldier fed on a wretched pittance of\nbread, moved about like a shadow, and no prospect of a change for the\nbetter comforted him under his privations.\n\nWhoever treats this miserable way of feeding soldiers as a matter of no\nmoment, and points to what Frederick the Great did with soldiers\nsubsisted in this manner, only takes a partial view of the matter. The\npower of enduring privations is one of the finest virtues in a soldier,\nand without it no army is animated with the true military spirit; but\nsuch privation must be of a temporary kind, commanded by the force of\ncircumstances, and not the consequence of a wretchedly bad system, or\nof a parsimonious abstract calculation of the smallest ration that a\nman can exist upon. When such is the case the powers of the men\nindividually will always deteriorate physically and morally. What\nFrederick the Great managed to do with his soldiers cannot be taken as\na standard for us, partly because he was opposed to those who pursued a\nsimilar system, partly because we do not know how much more he might\nhave effected if he had been able to let his troops live as Buonaparte\nallowed his whenever circumstances permitted.\n\nThe feeding of horses by an artificial system of supply is, however, an\nexperiment which has not been tried, because forage is much more\ndifficult to provide on account of its bulk. A ration for a horse\nweighs about ten times as much as one for a man, and the number of\nhorses with an army is more than one-tenth the number of men, at\npresent it is one-fourth to one-third, and formerly it was one-third to\none-half, therefore the weight of the forage required is three, four,\nor five times as much as that of the soldier\u2019s rations required for the\nsame period of time; on this account the shortest and most direct means\nwere taken to meet the wants of an army in this respect, that is by\nforaging expeditions. Now these expeditions occasioned great\ninconvenience in the conduct of war in other ways, first by making it a\nprincipal object to keep the war in the enemy\u2019s country; and next\nbecause they made it impossible to remain very long in one part of the\ncountry. However, at the time of the Silesian war, foraging expeditions\nwere much less frequent, they were found to occasion a much greater\ndrain upon the country, and much greater waste than if the requirements\nwere satisfied by means of requisitions and imposts.\n\nWhen the French Revolution suddenly brought again upon the war stage a\nnational army, the means which governments could command were found\ninsufficient, and the whole system of war, which had its origin in the\nlimited extent of these means, and found again its security in this\nlimitation, fell to pieces, and of course in the downfall of the whole\nwas included that of the branch of which we are now speaking, the\nsystem of subsistence. Without troubling themselves about magazines,\nand still less about such an organisation as the artificial clockwork\nof which we have spoken, by which the different divisions of the\ntransport service went round like a wheel, the leading spirits of the\nrevolution sent their soldiers into the field, forced their generals to\nfight, subsisted, reinforced their armies, and kept alive the war by a\nsystem of exaction, and of helping themselves to all they required by\nrobbery and plunder.\n\nBetween these two extremes the war under Buonaparte, and against him,\npreserved a sort of medium, that is to say, it just made use of such\nmeans as suited it best amongst all that were available; and so it will\nbe also in future.\n\nThe modern method of subsisting troops, that is, seizing every thing\nwhich is to be found in the country without regard to _meum et tuum_\nmay be carried out in four different ways: that is, subsisting on the\ninhabitant, contributions which the troops themselves look after,\ngeneral contributions and magazines. All four are generally applied\ntogether, one generally prevailing more than the others: still it\nsometimes happens that only one is applied entirely by itself.\n\n1.\u2014Living on the inhabitants, or on the community, which is the same\nthing.\n\n\nIf we bear in mind that in a community consisting even as it does in\ngreat towns, of consumers only, there must always be provisions enough\nto last for several days, we may easily see that the most densely\npopulated place can furnish food and quarters for a day for about as\nmany troops as there are inhabitants, and for a less number of troops\nfor several days without the necessity of any particular previous\npreparation. In towns of considerable size this gives a very\nsatisfactory result, because it enables us to subsist a large force at\none point. But in smaller towns, or even in villages, the supply would\nbe far from sufficient; for a population of 3,000 or 4,000 in a square\nmile which would be large in such a space, would only suffice to feed\n3,000 or 4,000 soldiers, and if the whole mass of troops is great they\nwould have to be spread over such an extent of country at this rate as\nwould hardly be consistent with other essential points. But in level\ncountries, and even in small towns, the quantity of those kinds of\nprovisions which are essential in war is generally much greater; the\nsupply of bread which a peasant has is generally adequate to the\nconsumption of his family for several, perhaps from eight to fourteen\ndays; meat can be obtained daily, vegetable productions are generally\nforthcoming in sufficient quantity to last till the following crop.\nTherefore in quarters which have never been occupied there is no\ndifficulty in subsisting troops three or four times the number of the\ninhabitants for several days, which again is a very satisfactory\nresult. According to this, where the population is about 2,000 or 3,000\nper square mile, and if no large town is included, a column of 30,000\nwould require about four square miles, which would be a length of side\nof two miles. Therefore for an army of 90,000, which we may reckon at\nabout 75,000 combatants, if marching in three columns contiguous to\neach other, we should require to take up a front six miles in breadth\nin case three roads could be found within that breadth.\n\nIf several columns follow one another into these cantonments, then\nspecial measures must be adopted by the civil authorities, and in that\nway there can be no great difficulty in obtaining all that is required\nfor a day or two more. Therefore if the above 90,000 are followed the\nday after by a like number, even these last would suffer no want; this\nmakes up the large number of 150,000 combatants.\n\nForage for the horses occasions still less difficulty, as it neither\nrequires grinding nor baking, and as there must be forage forthcoming\nin sufficient quantity to last the horses in the country until next\nharvest, therefore even where there is little stall-feeding, still\nthere should be no want, only the deliveries of forage should certainly\nbe demanded from the community at large, not from the inhabitants\nindividually. Besides, it is supposed that some attention is, of\ncourse, paid to the nature of the country in making arrangements for a\nmarch, so as not to send cavalry mostly into places of commerce and\nmanufactures, and into districts where there is no forage.\n\nThe conclusion to be drawn from this hasty glance is, therefore, that\nin a moderately populated country, that is, a country of from 2,000 to\n3,000 souls per square mile, an army of 150,000 combatants may be\nsubsisted by the inhabitants and community for one or two days within\nsuch a narrow space as will not interfere with its concentration for\nbattle, that is, therefore, that such an army can be subsisted on a\ncontinuous march without magazines or other preparation.\n\nOn this result were based the enterprises of the French army in the\nrevolutionary war, and under Buonaparte. They marched from the Adige to\nthe Lower Danube, and from the Rhine to the Vistula, with little means\nof subsistence except upon the inhabitants, and without ever suffering\nwant. As their undertakings depended on moral and physical superiority,\nas they were attended with certain results, and were never delayed by\nindecision or caution, therefore their progress in the career of\nvictory was generally that of an uninterrupted march.\n\nIf circumstances are less favourable, if the population is not so\ngreat, or if it consists more of artisans than agriculturists, if the\nsoil is bad, the country already several times overrun\u2014then of course\nthe results will fall short of what we have supposed. Still, we must\nremember that if the breadth of the front of a column is extended from\ntwo miles to three, we get a superficial extent of country more than\ndouble in size, that is, instead of four we command nine square miles,\nand that this is still an extent which in ordinary cases will always\nadmit of concentration for action; we see therefore that even under\nunfavourable circumstances this method of subsistence will still be\nalways compatible with a continuous march.\n\nBut if a halt of several days takes place, then great distress must\nensue if preparations have not been made beforehand for such an event\nin other ways. Now these preparatory measures are of two kinds, and\nwithout them a considerable army even now cannot exist. The first is\nequipping the troops with a wagon train, by means of which bread or\nflour, as the most essential part of their subsistence, can be carried\nwith them for a few, that is, for three or four days; if to this we add\nthree or four days\u2019 rations which the soldier himself can carry, then\nwe have provided what is most indispensable in the way of subsistence\nfor eight days.\n\nThe second arrangement is that of a regular commissariat, which\nwhenever there is a moment\u2019s halt gathers provisions from distant\nlocalities, so that at any moment we can pass over from the system of\nquartering on the inhabitants to a different system.\n\nSubsisting in cantonments has the immense advantage that hardly any\ntransport is required, and that it is done in the shortest time, but\ncertainly it supposes as a prior condition that cantonments can be\nprovided for all the troops.\n\n2.\u2014Subsistence through exactions enforced by the troops themselves.\n\n\nIf a single battalion occupies a camp, this camp may be placed in the\nvicinity of some villages, and these may receive notice to furnish\nsubsistence; then the method of subsistence would not differ\nessentially from the preceding mode. But, as is most usual, if the mass\nof troops to be encamped at some one point is much larger, there is no\nalternative but to make a collection in common within the circle of\ndistricts marked out for the purpose, collecting sufficient for the\nsupply of one of the parts of the army, a brigade or division, and\nafterwards to make a distribution from the common stock thus collected.\n\nThe first glance shows that by such a mode of proceeding the\nsubsistence of a large army would be a matter of impossibility. The\ncollection made from the stores in any given district in the country\nwill be much less than if the troops had taken up their quarters in the\nsame district, for when thirty or forty men take possession of a\nfarmer\u2019s house they can if necessary collect the last mouthful, but one\nofficer sent with a few men to collect provisions has neither time nor\nmeans to hunt out all the provisions that may be stored in a house,\noften also he has not the means of transport; he will therefore only be\nable to collect a small proportion of what is actually forthcoming.\nBesides, in camps the troops are crowded together in such a manner at\none point, that the range of country from which provisions can be\ncollected in a hurry is not of sufficient extent to furnish the whole\nof what is required. What could be done in the way of supplying 30,000\nmen, within a circle of a mile in diameter, or from an area of three or\nfour square miles? Moreover it would seldom be possible to collect even\nwhat there is, for the most of the nearest adjacent villages would be\noccupied by small bodies of troops, who would not allow anything to be\nremoved. Lastly, by such a measure there would be the greatest waste,\nbecause some men would get more than they required, whilst a great deal\nwould be lost, and of no benefit to any one.\n\nThe result is, therefore, that the subsistence of troops by forced\ncontributions in this manner can only be adopted with success when the\nbodies of troops are not too large, not exceeding a division of 8,000\nor 10,000 men, and even then it is only to be resorted to as an\nunavoidable evil.\n\nIt cannot in general be avoided in the case of troops directly in front\nof the enemy, such as advanced guards and outposts, when the army is\nadvancing, because these bodies must arrive at points where no\npreparations could have been made, and they are usually too far from\nthe stores collected for the rest of the army; further, in the case of\nmoveable columns acting independently; and lastly, in all cases where\nby chance there is neither time nor means to procure subsistence in any\nother way.\n\nThe more troops are accustomed to live by regular requisitions, the\nmore time and circumstances permit the adoption of that way of\nsubsisting, then the more satisfactory will be the result. But time is\ngenerally wanting, for what the troops get for themselves directly is\ngot much quicker.\n\n3.\u2014By regular requisitions.\n\n\nThis is unquestionably the simplest and most efficacious means of\nsubsisting troops, and it has been the basis of all modern wars.\n\nIt differs from the preceding way chiefly by its having the\nco-operation of the local authorities. The supply in this case must not\nbe carried off forcibly just from the spot where it is found, but be\nregularly delivered according to an equitable division of the burden.\nThis division can only be made by the recognised official authorities\nof the country.\n\nIn this all depends on time. The more time there is, the more general\ncan the division be made, the less will it press on individuals, and\nthe more regular will be the result. Even purchases may be made with\nready money to assist, in which way it will approach the mode which\nfollows next in order (Magazines). In all assemblages of troops in\ntheir own country there is no difficulty in subsisting by regular\nrequisitions; neither, as a rule, is there any in retrograde movements.\nOn the other hand, in all movements into a country of which we are not\nin possession, there is very little time for such arrangements, seldom\nmore than the one day which the advanced guard is in the habit of\npreceding the army. With the advanced guard the requisitions are sent\nto the local officials, specifying how many rations they are to have\nready at such and such places. As these can only be furnished from the\nimmediate neighbourhood, that is, within a circuit of a couple of miles\nround each point, the collections so made in haste will never be nearly\nsufficient for an army of considerable strength, and consequently, if\nthe troops do not carry with them enough for several days, they will\nrun short. It is therefore the duty of the commissariat to economise\nwhat is received, and only to issue to those troops who have nothing.\nWith each succeeding day, however, the embarrassment diminishes; that\nis to say, if the distances from which provisions can be procured\nincrease in proportion to the number of days, then the superficial area\nover which the contributions can be levied increases as the squares of\nthe distances gained. If on the first day only four square miles have\nbeen drawn upon, on the next day we shall have sixteen, on the third,\nthirty-six; therefore on the second day twelve more than on the first,\nand on the third day twenty more than on the second.\n\nOf course this is a mere rough estimate of what may take place, subject\nto many modifying circumstances which may intervene, of which the\nprincipal is, that one district may not be capable of contributing like\nanother. But on the other hand, we must also remember that the radius\nwithin which we can levy may increase more than two miles a day in\nwidth, perhaps three or four, or in many places still more.\n\nThe due execution of these requisitions is enforced by detachments\nplaced under the orders of the official functionaries, but still more\nby the fear of responsibility, punishment, and ill-treatment which, in\nsuch cases, like a general weight, presses on the whole population.\n\nHowever, it is not our intention to enter into details\u2014into the whole\nmachinery of commissariat and army subsistence; we have only results in\nview.\n\nThe result to be derived from a common-sense view of all the\ncircumstances in general, and the view which the experience of the wars\nsince the French revolution tends to confirm is,\u2014that even the largest\narmy, if it carries with it provisions for a few days, may undoubtedly\nbe subsisted by contributions which, commencing at the moment of\nentering a country, affect at first only the districts in the immediate\nvicinity of the army, but afterwards, in the course of time, are levied\non a greater scale, over a range of country always increasing, and with\nan ever increasing weight of authority.\n\nThis resource has no limits except those of the exhaustion,\nimpoverishment, and devastation of the country. When the stay of an\ninvading army is of some duration, the administration of this system at\nlast is handed over to those in the highest official capacity; and they\nnaturally do all they can to equalise its pressure as much as possible,\nand to alleviate the weight of the tax by purchases; at the same time,\neven an invader, when his stay is prolonged in his enemy\u2019s country, is\nnot usually so barbarous and reckless as to lay upon that country the\nentire burden of his support; thus the system of contributions of\nitself gradually approaches to that of magazines, at the same time\nwithout ever ceasing altogether, or sensibly losing any of that\ninfluence which it exercises on the operations of the war; for there is\na wide difference between a case in which some of the resources which\nhave been drawn from a country are replaced by supplies brought from\nmore distant parts (the country, however, still remaining substantially\nthe source on which the army depends for its supplies), and the case of\nan army which\u2014as in the eighteenth century\u2014provides for all its wants\nfrom its own resources, the country in which it is operating\ncontributing, as a rule, nothing towards its support.\n\nThe great difference consists in two things,\u2014namely, the employment of\nthe transport of the country, and its ovens. In this way, that enormous\nburden of any army, that incubus which is always destroying its own\nwork, a military transport train, is almost got rid of.\n\nIt is true that even now no army can do entirely without some\nsubsistence wagons, but the number is immensely diminished, and little\nmore is required than sufficient to carry the surplus of one day on\ntill the next. Peculiar circumstances, as in Russia in 1812, may even\nagain compel an army to carry an enormous train, and also field-ovens;\nbut in the first place these are exceptional cases; for how seldom will\nit happen that 300,000 men make a hostile advance of 130 miles upon\nalmost a single road, and that through countries such as Poland and\nRussia, and shortly before the season of harvest; and in the next\nplace, any means of supply attached to an army in such cases, may be\nlooked upon as only an assistance in case of need, the contributions of\nthe country being always regarded as the groundwork of the whole system\nof supply.\n\nSince the first campaigns of the French revolutionary war, the\nrequisition system has formed constantly the mainstay of their armies,\nthe armies opposed to them were also obliged to adopt the same system,\nand it is not at all likely that it will ever be abandoned. There is no\nother which can be substituted for it with the same results, both as\nregards its simplicity and freedom from restraint, and also as respects\nenergy in the prosecution of the war. As an army is seldom distressed\nfor provisions during the first three or four weeks of a campaign\nwhatever direction it takes, and afterwards can be assisted by\nmagazines, we may very well say that by this method war has acquired\nthe most perfect freedom of action. Certainly difficulties may be\ngreater in one direction than in another, and that may carry weight in\npreliminary deliberation; but we can never encounter an absolute\nimpossibility, and the attention which is due to the subject of\nsubsistence can never decide a question imperatively. To this there is\nonly one exception, which is a retreat through an enemy\u2019s country. In\nsuch a case many of the inconveniences connected with subsistence meet\ntogether. The operation is one of a continuous nature, generally\ncarried on without a halt worth speaking of; there is, therefore, no\ntime to procure provisions; the circumstances under which the operation\ncommences are generally unfavourable, it is therefore necessary to keep\nthe troops in masses, and a dispersion in cantonments, or even any\nconsiderable extension in the width of the column cannot be allowed;\nthe hostile feeling of the country precludes the chance of any\ncollection of contributions by mere orders issued without the support\nof a force capable of executing the order; and, lastly, the moment is\nmost auspicious for the inhabitants to give vent to their feelings by\nacts of hostility. On account of all this, an army so situated is\ngenerally obliged to confine itself strictly to its previously prepared\nlines of communication and retreat.\n\nWhen Buonaparte had to retreat in 1812, it was impossible for him to do\nso by any other line but the one upon which he had advanced, on account\nof the subsistence of his army; and if he had attempted any other he\nwould only have plunged into more speedy and certain destruction; all\nthe censure therefore passed on him by even French writers as well as\nby others with regard to this point is sheer nonsense.\n\n4.\u2014Subsistence from Magazines.\n\n\nIf we are to make a generic distinction between this method of\nsubsisting troops and the preceding, it must be by an organisation such\nas existed for about thirty years at the close of the seventeenth and\nduring the eighteenth century. Can this organisation ever reappear?\n\nCertainly we cannot conceive how it can be dispensed with if great\narmies are to be bound down for seven, ten, or twelve years long to one\nspot, as they have been formerly in the Netherlands, on the Rhine, in\nUpper Italy, Silesia, and Saxony; for what country can continue for\nsuch a length of time to endure the burden of two great armies, making\nit the entire source of their supplies, without being utterly ruined in\nthe end, and therefore gradually becoming unable to meet the demands?\n\nBut here naturally arises the question: shall the war prescribe the\nsystem of subsistence, or shall the latter dictate the nature of the\nwar? To this we answer: the system of subsistence will control the war,\nin the first place, as far as the other conditions on which it depends\npermit; but when the latter are encroached upon, the war will react on\nthe subsistence system, and in such case determine the same.\n\nA war carried on by means of the system of requisitions and local\nsupplies furnished on the spot has such an advantage over one carried\non in dependence on issues from magazines, that the latter does not\nlook at all like the same instrument. No state will therefore venture\nto encounter the former with the latter; and if any war minister should\nbe so narrow-minded and blind to circumstances as to ignore the real\nrelation which the two systems bear to each other, by sending an army\ninto the field to live upon the old system, the force of circumstances\nwould carry the commander of that army along with it in its course, and\nthe requisition system would burst forth of itself. If we consider\nbesides, that the great expense attending such an organisation must\nnecessarily reduce the extent of the armament in other respects,\nincluding of course the actual number of combatant soldiers, as no\nstate has a superabundance of wealth, then there seems no probability\nof any such organisation being again resorted to unless it should be\nadopted by the belligerents by mutual agreement, an idea which is a\nmere play of the imagination.\n\nWars therefore may be expected henceforward always to commence with the\nrequisition system; how much one or other government will do to\nsupplement the same by an artificial organisation to spare their own\ncountry, etc., etc., remains to be seen; that it will not be overmuch\nwe may be certain, for at such moments the tendency is to look to the\nmost urgent wants, and an artificial system of subsisting troops does\nnot come under that category.\n\nBut now, if a war is not so decisive in its results, if its operations\nare not so comprehensive as is consistent with its real nature, then\nthe requisition system will begin to exhaust the country in which it is\ncarried on to that degree that either peace must be made, or means must\nbe found to lighten the burden on the country, and to become\nindependent of it for the supplies of the army. The latter was the case\nof the French army under Buonaparte in Spain, but the first happens\nmuch more frequently. In most wars the exhaustion of the state\nincreases to that degree that, instead of thinking of prosecuting the\nwar at a still greater expense, the necessity for peace becomes so\nurgent as to be imperative. Thus from this point of view the modern\nmethod of carrying on war has a tendency to shorten the duration of\nwars.\n\nAt the same time we shall not positively deny the possibility of the\nold system of subsistence reappearing in future wars; it will perhaps\nbe resorted to by belligerents hereafter, where the nature of their\nmutual relations urge them to it, and circumstances are favourable to\nits adoption; but we can never perceive in that system a natural\norganisation; it is much rather an abnormal growth permitted by\ncircumstances, but which can never spring from war in its true sense.\nStill less can we consider that form or system as any improvement in\nwar on the ground of its being more humane, for war itself is not a\nhumane proceeding.\n\nWhatever method of providing subsistence may be chosen, it is but\nnatural that it should be more easily carried out in rich and\nwell-peopled countries, than in the midst of a poor and scanty\npopulation. That the population should be taken into consideration,\nlies in the double relation which that element bears to the quantity of\nprovisions to be found in a country: first because, where the\nconsumption is large, the provision to meet that consumption is also\nlarge; and in the next place, because as a rule a large population\nproduces also largely. From this we must certainly except districts\npeopled chiefly by manufacturers, particularly when, as is often the\ncase, such districts lie in mountain valleys surrounded by unproductive\nland; but in the generality of cases it is always very much easier to\nfeed troops in a well populated than in a thinly inhabited country. An\narmy of 100,000 men cannot be supported on four hundred square miles\ninhabited by 400,000 people, as well as it would be on four hundred\nsquare miles with a population of 2,000,000 inhabitants, even supposing\nthe soil equally good in the two cases. Besides, the roads and means of\nwater-carriage are much better in rich countries and afford a greater\nchoice, being more numerous, the means of transport are more abundant,\nthe commercial relations easier and more certain. In a word, there is\ninfinitely less difficulty in supporting an army in Flanders than in\nPoland.\n\nThe consequence is, that war with its manifold suckers fixes itself by\npreference along high roads, near populous towns, in the fertile\nvalleys of large rivers, or along such sea-coasts as are well\nfrequented.\n\nThis shows clearly how the subsistence of troops may have a general\ninfluence upon the direction and form of military undertakings, and\nupon the choice of a theatre of war and lines of communication.\n\nThe extent of this influence, what weight shall attach to the facility\nor difficulty of provisioning the troops, all that in the calculation\ndepends very much on the way in which the war is to be conducted. If it\nis to be carried on in its real spirit, that is, with the unbridled\nforce which belongs to its element, with a constant pressing forward\nto, or seeking for the combat and decisive solution, then the\nsustenance of the troops although an important, is but a subordinate,\naffair; but if there is to be a state of equilibrium during which the\narmies move about here and there in the same province for several\nyears, then the subsistence must often become the principal thing, the\nintendant the commander-in-chief, and the conduct of the war an\nadministration of wagons.\n\nThere are numberless campaigns of this kind in which nothing took\nplace; the plans miscarried, the forces were used to no purpose, the\nonly excuse being the plea of a want of subsistence; on the other hand\nBuonaparte used to say \u201c_Qu\u2019on ne me parle pas des vivres!_\u201d\n\nCertainly that general in the Russian campaign proved that such\nrecklessness may be carried too far, for not to say that perhaps his\nwhole campaign was ruined through that cause alone, which at best would\nbe only a supposition, still it is beyond doubt that to his want of\nregard to the subsistence of his troops he was indebted for the\nextraordinary melting away of his army on his advance, and for its\nutter ruin on the retreat.\n\nBut while fully recognising in Buonaparte the eager gambler who\nventures on many a mad extreme, we may justly say that he and the\nrevolutionary generals who preceded him dispelled a powerful prejudice\nin respect to the subsistence of troops, and showed that it should\nnever be looked upon in any other light than as a _condition_ of war,\nnever as an object.\n\nBesides, it is with privation in war just as with physical exertion and\ndanger; the demands which the general can make on his army are without\nany defined bounds; an iron character demands more than a feeble\nsensitive man; also the endurance of an army differs in degree,\naccording as habit, military spirit, confidence in and affection\ntowards the commander, or enthusiasm for the cause of fatherland,\nsustain the will and energy of the soldier. But this we may look upon\nas an established principle, that privation and want, however far they\nmay be carried, should never be otherwise regarded than as\ntransition-states which should be succeeded by a state of abundance,\nindeed even by superfluity. Can there be any thing more touching than\nthe thought of so many thousand soldiers, badly clothed, with packs on\ntheir backs weighing thirty or forty pounds, toiling over every kind of\nroad, in every description of weather, for days and days continually on\nthe march, health and life for ever in peril, and for all that unable\nto get a sufficiency of dry bread. Any one who knows how often this\nhappens in war, is at a loss to know how it does not oftener lead to a\nrefusal of the will and powers to submit any longer to such exactions,\nand how the mere bent constantly given to the imagination of human\nbeings in one direction, is capable of first calling forth, and then\nsupporting such incredible efforts.\n\nLet any one then, who imposes great privations on his men because great\nobjects demand such a trial of endurance, always bear in mind as a\nmatter of prudence, if not prompted to it by his own feelings, that\nthere is a recompence for such sacrifices which he is bound to pay at\nsome other time.\n\nWe have now to consider the difference which takes place in respect to\nthe question of subsistence in war, according as the action is\noffensive or defensive.\n\nThe defensive is in a position to make uninterrupted use of the\nsubsistence which he has been able to lay in beforehand, as long as his\ndefensive act continues. The defensive side therefore can hardly be in\nwant of the necessaries of life, particularly if he is in his own\ncountry; but even in the enemy\u2019s this holds good. The offensive on the\nother hand is moving away from his resources, and as long as he is\nadvancing, and even during the first weeks after he stops, must procure\nfrom day to day what he requires, and this can very rarely be done\nwithout want and inconvenience being felt.\n\nThis difficulty is felt in its fullest force at two particular periods,\nfirst in the advance, before the decision takes place; then the\nsupplies of the defensive side are all at hand, whilst the assailant\nhas been obliged to leave his behind; he is obliged to keep his masses\nconcentrated, and therefore cannot spread his army over any\nconsiderable space; even his transport cannot keep close to him when he\ncommences his movements preliminary to a battle. If his preparations\nhave not been very well made, it may easily happen at this moment that\nhis army may be in want of supplies for several days before the\ndecisive battle, which certainly is not a means of bringing them into\nthe fight in the highest state of efficiency.\n\nThe second time a state of want arises is at the end of a victorious\ncareer, if the lines of communication begin to be too long, especially\nif the war is carried on in a poor, sparsely-populated country, and\nperhaps also in the midst of a people whose feelings are hostile. What\nan enormous difference between a line of communication from Wilna to\nMoscow, on which every carriage must be forcibly seized, and a line\nfrom Cologne by Li\u00e9ge, Louvain, Brussels, Mons, and Valenciennes to\nParis, where a mercantile contract or a bill of exchange would suffice\nto procure millions of rations.\n\nFrequently has the difficulty we are now speaking of resulted in\nobscuring the splendour of the most brilliant victories, reduced the\npowers of the victorious army, rendered retreat necessary, and then by\ndegrees ended in producing all the symptoms of a real defeat.\n\nForage, of which, as we have before said, there is usually at first the\nleast deficiency, will run short soonest if a country begins to become\nexhausted, for it is the most difficult supply to procure from a\ndistance, on account of its bulk, and the horse feels the effect of low\nfeeding much sooner than the man. For this reason, an over-numerous\ncavalry and artillery may become a real burden, and an element of\nweakness to an army.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. Base of Operations\n\nIf an army sets out on any expedition, whether it be to attack the\nenemy and his theatre of war, or to take post on its own frontier, it\ncontinues in a state of necessary dependence on the sources from which\nit draws its subsistence and reinforcements, and must maintain its\ncommunication with them, as they are the conditions of its existence\nand preservation. This dependence increases in intensity and extent in\nproportion to the size of the army. But now it is neither always\npossible nor requisite that the army should continue in direct\ncommunication with the whole of its own country; it is sufficient if it\ndoes so with that portion immediately in its rear, and which is\nconsequently covered by its position. In this portion of the country\nthen, as far as necessary, special dep\u00f4ts of provisions are formed, and\narrangements are made for regularly forwarding reinforcements and\nsupplies. This strip of territory is therefore the foundation of the\narmy and of all its undertakings, and the two must be regarded as\nforming in connection only one whole. If the supplies for their greater\nsecurity are lodged in fortified places, the idea of a base becomes\nmore distinct; but the idea does not originate in any arrangement of\nthat kind, and in a number of cases no such arrangement is made.\n\nBut a portion of the enemy\u2019s territory may also become a base for our\narmy, or, at least, form part of it; for when an army penetrates into\nan enemy\u2019s land, a number of its wants are supplied from that part of\nthe country which is taken possession of; but it is then a necessary\ncondition that we are completely masters of this portion of territory,\nthat is, certain of our orders being obeyed within its limits. This\ncertainty, however, seldom extends beyond the reach of our ability to\nkeep the inhabitants in awe by small garrisons, and detachments moving\nabout from place to place, and that is not very far in general. The\nconsequence is, that in the enemy\u2019s country, the part of territory from\nwhich we can draw supplies is seldom of sufficient extent to furnish\nall the supplies we require, and we must therefore still depend on our\nown land for much, and this brings us back again to the importance of\nthat part of our territory immediately in rear of our army as an\nindispensable portion of our base.\n\nThe wants of an army may be divided into two classes, first those which\nevery cultivated country can furnish; and next those which can only be\nobtained from those localities where they are produced. The first are\nchiefly provisions, the second the means of keeping an army complete in\nevery way. The first can therefore be obtained in the enemy\u2019s country;\nthe second, as a rule, can only be furnished by our own country, for\nexample men, arms, and almost all munitions of war. Although there are\nexceptions to this classification in certain cases, still they are few\nand trifling, and the distinction we have drawn is of standing\nimportance, and proves again that the communication with our own\ncountry is indispensable.\n\nDep\u00f4ts of provisions and forage are generally formed in open towns,\nboth in the enemy\u2019s and in our own country, because there are not as\nmany fortresses as would be required for these bulky stores continually\nbeing consumed, and wanted sometimes here, sometimes there, and also\nbecause their loss is much easier to replace; on the other hand, stores\nto keep the army complete, such as arms, munition of war, and articles\nof equipment are never lodged in open places in the vicinity of the\ntheatre of war if it can be avoided, but are rather brought from a\ndistance, and in the enemy\u2019s country never stored anywhere but in\nfortresses. From this point, again, it may be inferred that the base is\nof more importance in relation to supplies intended to refit an army\nthan in relation to provisions for food.\n\nNow, the more means of each kind are collected together in great\nmagazines before being brought into use, the more, therefore, all\nseparate streams unite in great reservoirs, so much the more may these\nbe regarded as taking the place of the whole country, and so much the\nmore will the conception of a base fix itself upon these great dep\u00f4ts\nof supply; but this must never go so far that any such place becomes\nlooked upon as constituting a base in itself alone.\n\nIf these sources of supply and refitment are abundant, that is, if the\ntracts of territory are wide and rich, if the stores are collected in\ngreat dep\u00f4ts to be more speedily brought into use, if these dep\u00f4ts are\ncovered in a military sense in one way or another, if they are in close\nproximity to the army and accessible by good roads, if they extend\nalong a considerable width in the rear of the army or surround it in\npart as well\u2014then follows a greater vitality for the army, as well as a\ngreater freedom in its movements. Attempts have been made to sum up all\nthe advantages which an army derives from being so situated in one\nsingle conception, that is, the extent of the base of operations. By\nthe relation which this base bears to the object of the undertakings,\nby the angle which its extremities make with this object (supposed as a\npoint), it has been attempted to express the whole sum of the\nadvantages and disadvantages which accrue to an army from the position\nand nature of its sources of supply and equipment; but it is plain this\nelegant piece of geometrical refinement is merely a play of fancy, as\nit is founded on a series of substitutions which must all be made at\nthe expense of truth. As we have seen, the base of an army is a triple\nformation in connection with the situation in which an army is placed:\nthe resources of the country adjacent to the position of the army, the\ndep\u00f4ts of stores which have been made at particular points, and the\n_province_ from which these stores are derived or collected. These\nthree things are separated in space, and cannot be collected into one\nwhole, and least of all can we substitute for them a line which is to\nrepresent the width of the base, a line which is generally imagined in\na manner perfectly arbitrary, either from one fortress to another or\nfrom one capital of a province to another, or along a political\nboundary of a country. Neither can we determine precisely the mutual\nrelation of these three steps in the formation of a base, for in\nreality they blend themselves with each other always more or less. In\none case the surrounding country affords largely the means of refitting\nan army with things which otherwise could only be obtained from a long\ndistance; in another case we are obliged to get even food from a long\ndistance. Sometimes the nearest fortresses are great arsenals, ports,\nor commercial cities, which contain all the military resources of a\nwhole state, sometimes they are nothing but old, feeble ramparts,\nhardly sufficient for their own defence.\n\nThe consequence is that all deductions from the length of the base of\noperations and its angles, and the whole theory of war founded on these\ndata, as far as its geometrical phase, have never met with any\nattention in real war, and in theory they have only caused wrong\ntendencies. But as the basis of this chain of reasoning is a truth, and\nonly the conclusions drawn are false, this same view will easily and\nfrequently thrust itself forward again.\n\nWe think, therefore, that we cannot go beyond acknowledging generally\nthe influence of a base on military enterprises, that at the same time\nthere are no means of framing out of this maxim any serviceable rules\nby a few abstract ideas; but that in each separate case the whole of\nthe things which we have specified must be _kept in view together_.\n\nWhen once arrangements are made within a certain radius to provide the\nmeans of subsisting an army and keeping it complete in every respect,\nand with a view to operations in a certain direction, then, even in our\nown country, this district only is to be regarded as the base of the\narmy; and as any alteration of a base requires time and labour,\ntherefore an army cannot change its base every day, even in its own\ncountry, and this again limits it always more or less in the direction\nof its operations. If, then, in operating against an enemy\u2019s country we\ntake the whole line of our own frontier, where it forms a boundary\nbetween the two countries as our base, we may do so in a general sense,\nin so far that we might make those preparations which constitute a base\nanywhere on that frontier; but it will not be a base at any moment if\npreparations have not been already made everywhere. When the Russian\narmy retreated before the French in 1812, at the beginning of the\ncampaign the whole of Russia might have been considered as its base,\nthe more so because the vast extent of the country offered the army\nabundance of space in any direction it might select. This is no\nillusory notion, as it was actually realised at a subsequent time, when\nother Russian armies from different quarters entered the field; but\nstill at every period throughout the campaign the base of the Russian\narmy was not so extensive; it was principally confined to the road on\nwhich the whole train of transport to and from their army was\norganised. This limitation prevented the Russian army, for instance,\nfrom making the further retreat which became necessary after the three\ndays\u2019 fighting at Smolensk in any direction but that of Moscow, and so\nhindered their turning suddenly in the direction of Kaluga, as was\nproposed in order to draw the enemy away from Moscow. Such a change of\ndirection could only have been possible by having been prepared for\nlong beforehand.\n\nWe have said that the dependence on the base increases in intensity and\nextent with the size of the army, which is easy to understand. An army\nis like a tree. From the ground out of which it grows it draws its\nnourishment; if it is small it can easily be transplanted, but this\nbecomes more difficult as it increases in size. A small body of troops\nhas also its channels, from which it draws the sustenance of life, but\nit strikes root easily where it happens to be; not so a large army.\nWhen, therefore, we talk of the influence of the base on the operations\nof an army, the dimensions of the army must always serve as the scale\nby which to measure the magnitude of that influence.\n\nFurther it is consistent with the nature of things that for the\nimmediate wants of the present hour the _subsistence_ is the main\npoint, but for the general efficiency of the army through a long period\nof time the _refitment_ and _recruitment_ are the more important,\nbecause the latter can only be done from particular sources while the\nformer may be obtained in many ways; this again defines still more\ndistinctly the influence of the base on the operations of the army.\n\nHowever great that influence may be, we must never forget that it\nbelongs to those things which can only show a decisive effect after\nsome considerable time, and that therefore the question always remains\nwhat may happen in that time. The value of a base of operations will\nseldom determine the choice of an undertaking in the first instance.\nMere difficulties which may present themselves in this respect must be\nput side by side and compared with other means actually at our command;\nobstacles of this nature often vanish before the force of decisive\nvictories.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. Lines of Communication\n\nThe roads which lead from the position of an army to those points in\nits rear where its dep\u00f4ts of supply and means of recruiting and\nrefitting its forces are principally united, and which it also in all\nordinary cases chooses for its retreat, have a double signification; in\nthe first place, they are its _lines of communication_ for the constant\nnourishment of the combatant force, and next they are _roads of\nretreat_.\n\nWe have said in the preceding chapter, that, although according to the\npresent system of subsistence, an army is chiefly fed from the district\nin which it is operating, it must still be looked upon as forming a\nwhole with its base. The lines of communication belong to this whole;\nthey form the connection between the army and its base, and are to be\nconsidered as so many great vital arteries. Supplies of every kind,\nconvoys of munitions, detachments moving backwards and forwards, posts,\norderlies, hospitals, dep\u00f4ts, reserves of stores, agents of\nadministration, all these objects are constantly making use of these\nroads, and the total value of these services is of the utmost\nimportance to the army.\n\nThese great channels of life must therefore neither be permanently\nsevered, nor must they be of too great length, or beset with\ndifficulties, because there is always a loss of strength on a long\nroad, which tends to weaken the condition of an army.\n\nBy their second purpose, that is as lines of retreat, they constitute\nin a real sense the strategic rear of the army.\n\nFor both purposes the value of these roads depends on their _length_,\ntheir _number_, their _situation_, that is their general direction, and\ntheir direction specially as regards the army, their _nature_ as roads,\n_difficulties_ of _ground_, the _political relations and feeling of\nlocal population_, and lastly, on the _protection_ they derive from\nfortresses or natural obstacles in the country.\n\nBut all the roads which lead from the point occupied by an army to its\nsources of existence and power, are not on that account necessarily\nlines of communication for that army. They may no doubt be used for\nthat purpose, and may be considered as supplementary of the system of\ncommunication, but that system is confined to the lines regularly\nprepared for the purpose. Only those roads on which magazines,\nhospitals, stations, posts for despatches and letters are organised\nunder commandants with police and garrisons, can be looked upon as real\nlines of communication. But here a very important difference between\nour own and the enemy\u2019s army makes its appearance, one which is often\noverlooked. An army, even in its own country, has its prepared lines of\ncommunication, but it is not completely limited to them, and can in\ncase of need change its line, taking some other which presents itself,\nfor it is every where at home, has officials in authority, and the\nfriendly feeling of the people. Therefore, although other roads may not\nbe as good as those at first selected there is nothing to prevent their\nbeing used, and the use of them is not to be regarded as _impossible_\nin case the army is turned and obliged to change its front. An army in\nan enemy\u2019s country on the contrary can as a rule only look upon those\nroads as lines of communication upon which it has advanced; and hence\narises through small and almost invisible causes a great difference in\noperating. The army in the enemy\u2019s country takes under its protection\nthe organisation which, as it advances, it necessarily introduces to\nform its lines of communication; and in general, inasmuch as terror,\nand the presence of an enemy\u2019s army in the country invests these\nmeasures in the eyes of the inhabitants with all the weight of\nunalterable necessity, the inhabitants may even be brought to regard\nthem as an alleviation of the evils inseparable from war. Small\ngarrisons left behind in different places support and maintain this\nsystem. But if these commissaries, commandants of stations, police,\nfieldposts, and the rest of the apparatus of administration, were sent\nto some distant road upon which the army had not been seen, the\ninhabitants then would look upon such measures as a burden which they\nwould gladly get rid of, and if the most complete defeats and\ncatastrophes had not previously spread terror throughout the land, the\nprobability is that these functionaries would be treated as enemies,\nand driven away with very rough usage. Therefore in the first place it\nwould be necessary to establish garrisons to subjugate the new line,\nand these garrisons would require to be of more than ordinary strength,\nand still there would always be a danger of the inhabitants rising and\nattempting to overpower them. In short, an army marching into an\nenemy\u2019s country is destitute of the mechanism through which obedience\nis rendered; it has to institute its officials into their places, which\ncan only be done by a strong hand, and this cannot be effected\nthoroughly without sacrifices and difficulties, nor is it the work of a\nmoment\u2014From this it follows that a change of the system of\ncommunication is much less easy of accomplishment in an enemy\u2019s country\nthan in our own, where it is at least possible; and it also follows\nthat the army is more restricted in its movements, and must be much\nmore sensitive about any demonstrations against its communications.\n\nBut the choice and organisation of lines of communication is from the\nvery commencement subject also to a number of conditions by which it is\nrestricted. Not only must they be in a general sense good high roads,\nbut they will be the more serviceable the wider they are, the more\npopulous and wealthy towns they pass through, the more strong places\nthere are which afford them protection. Rivers, also, as means of water\ncommunication, and bridges as points of passage, have a decisive weight\nin the choice. It follows from this that the situation of a line of\ncommunication, and consequently the road by which an army proceeds to\ncommence the offensive, is only a matter of free choice up to a certain\npoint, its situation being dependent on certain geographical relations.\n\nAll the foregoing circumstances taken together determine the strength\nor weakness of the communication of an army with its base, and this\nresult, compared with one similarly obtained with regard to the enemy\u2019s\ncommunications, decides which of the two opponents is in a position to\noperate against the other\u2019s lines of communication, or to cut off his\nretreat, that is, in technical language to _turn him_. Setting aside\nall considerations of moral or physical superiority, that party can\nonly effectually accomplish this whose communications are the strongest\nof the two, for otherwise the enemy saves himself in the shortest mode,\nby a counterstroke.\n\nNow this turning can, by reason of the double signification of these\nlines, have also two purposes. Either the communications may be\ninterfered with and interrupted, that the enemy may melt away by\ndegrees from want, and thus be compelled to retreat, or the object may\nbe directly to cut off the retreat.\n\nWith regard to the first, we have to observe that a mere momentary\ninterruption will seldom have any effect while armies are subsisted as\nthey now are; a certain time is requisite to produce an effect in this\nway in order that the losses of the enemy by frequent repetition may\ncompensate in number for the small amount he suffers in each case. One\nsingle enterprise against the enemy\u2019s flank, which might have been a\ndecisive stroke in those days when thousands of bread-waggons traversed\nthe lines of communication, carrying out the systematised method then\nin force for subsisting troops, would hardly produce any effect now, if\never so successful; one convoy at most might be seized, which would\ncause the enemy some partial damage, but never compel him to retreat.\n\nThe consequence is, that enterprises of this description on a flank,\nwhich have always been more in fashion in books than in real warfare,\nnow appear less of a practical nature than ever, and we may safely say\nthat there is no danger in this respect to any lines of communication\nbut such as are very long, and otherwise unfavourably circumstanced,\nmore especially by being exposed everywhere and at any moment to\nattacks from an _insurgent population_.\n\nWith respect to the cutting off an enemy\u2019s retreat, we must not be\noverconfident in this respect either of the consequences of threatening\nor closing the enemy\u2019s lines of retreat, as recent experience has shown\nthat, when troops are good and their leader resolute, it is _more\ndifficult_ to make them prisoners, than it is for them to cut their way\nthrough the force opposed to them.\n\nThe means of shortening and protecting long lines of communication are\nvery limited. The seizure of some fortresses adjacent to the position\ntaken up by the army, and on the roads leading to the rear\u2014or in the\nevent of there being no fortresses in the country, the construction of\ntemporary defences at suitable points\u2014the kind treatment of the people\nof the country, strict discipline on the military roads, good police,\nand active measures to improve the roads, are the only means by which\nthe evil may be diminished, but it is one which can never be entirely\nremoved.\n\nFurthermore, what we said when treating of the question of subsistence\nwith respect to the roads which the army should chose by preference,\napplies also particularly to lines of communication. The best lines of\ncommunication are roads leading through the most flourishing towns and\nthe most important provinces; they ought to be preferred, even if\nconsiderably longer, and in most cases they exercise an important\ninfluence on the definitive disposition of the army.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. On Country and Ground\n\nQuite irrespective of their influence as regards the means of\nsubsistence of an army, country and ground bear another most intimate\nand never-failing relation to the business of war, which is their\ndecisive influence on the battle, both upon what concerns its course,\nas well as upon the preparation for it, and the use to be made of it.\nWe now proceed to consider country and ground in this phase, that is,\nin the full meaning of the French expression \u201c_Terrain._\u201d\n\nThe way to make use of them is a subject which lies mostly within the\nprovince of tactics, but the effects resulting from them appear in\nstrategy; a battle in the mountains is, in its consequences as well as\nin itself, quite a different thing from a battle on a level plain.\n\nBut until we have studied the distinction between offensive and\ndefensive, and examined the nature of each separately and fully, we\ncannot enter upon the consideration of the principal features of the\nground in their effects; we must therefore for the present confine\nourselves to an investigation of its general properties. There are\nthree properties through which the ground has an influence on action in\nwar; that is, as presenting an obstacle to approach, as an obstacle to\nan extensive view, and as protection against the effect of fire-arms;\nall other effects may be traced back to these three.\n\nUnquestionably this threefold influence of ground has a tendency to\nmake warfare more diversified, more complicated, and more scientific,\nfor they are plainly three more quantities which enter into military\ncombinations.\n\nA completely level plain, quite open at the same time, that is, a tract\nof country which cannot influence war at all, has no existence except\nin relation to small bodies of troops, and with respect to them only\nfor the duration of some given moment of time. When larger bodies are\nconcerned, and a longer duration of time, accidents of ground mix\nthemselves up with the action of such bodies, and it is hardly possible\nin the case of a whole army to imagine any particular moment, such as a\nbattle, when the ground would not make its influence felt.\n\nThis influence is therefore never in abeyance, but it is certainly\nstronger or weaker according to the nature of the country.\n\nIf we keep in view the great mass of topographical phenomena we find\nthat countries deviate from the idea of perfectly open level plains\nprincipally in three ways: first by the form of the ground, that is,\nhills and valleys; then by woods, marshes, and lakes as natural\nfeatures; and lastly, by such changes as have been introduced by the\nhand of man. Through each of these three circumstances there is an\nincrease in the influence of ground on the operations of war. If we\ntrace them up to a certain distance we have mountainous country, a\ncountry little cultivated and covered with woods and marshes, and the\nwell cultivated. The tendency in each case is to render war more\ncomplicated and connected with art.\n\nThe degree of influence which cultivation exercises is greater or less\naccording to the nature of the cultivation; the system pursued in\nFlanders, Holstein, and some other countries, where the land is\nintersected in every direction with ditches, dykes, hedges, and walls,\ninterspersed with many single dwellings and small woods has the\ngreatest effect on war.\n\nThe conduct of war is therefore of the easiest kind in a level\nmoderately-cultivated country. This however only holds good in quite a\ngeneral sense, leaving entirely out of consideration the use which the\ndefensive can make of obstacles of ground.\n\nEach of these three kinds of ground has an effect in its own way on\nmovement, on the range of sight, and in the cover it affords.\n\nIn a thickly-wooded country the obstacle to sight preponderates; in a\nmountainous country, the difficulty of movement presents the greatest\nobstacle to an enemy; in countries very much cultivated both these\nobstacles exist in a medium degree.\n\nAs thick woods render great portions of ground in a certain manner\nimpracticable for military movements, and as, besides the difficulty\nwhich they oppose to movement they also obstruct the view, thereby\npreventing the use of means to clear a passage, the result is that they\nsimplify the measures to be adopted on one side in proportion as they\nincrease the difficulties with which the other side has to contend.\nAlthough it is difficult practically to concentrate forces for action\nin a wooded country, still a partition of forces does not take place to\nthe same extent as it usually does in a mountainous country, or in a\ncountry very much intersected with canals, rivers, &c.: in other words,\nthe partition of forces in such a country is more unavoidable but not\nso great.\n\nIn mountains, the obstacles to movement preponderate and take effect in\ntwo ways, because in some parts the country is quite impassable, and\nwhere it is practicable we must move slower and with greater\ndifficulty. On this account the rapidity of all movements is much\ndiminished in mountains, and all operations are mixed up with a larger\nquantity of the element of time. But the ground in mountains has also\nthe special property peculiar to itself, that one point commands\nanother. We shall devote the following chapter to the discussion of the\nsubject of commanding heights generally, and shall only here remark\nthat it is this peculiarity which causes the great partition of forces\nin operations carried on amongst mountains, for particular points thus\nacquire importance from the influence they have upon other points in\naddition to any intrinsic value which they have in themselves.\n\nAs we have elsewhere observed, each of these three kinds of ground in\nproportion as its own special peculiarity has a tendency to an extreme,\nhas in the same degree a tendency to lower the influence of the supreme\ncommand, increasing in like manner the independent action of\nsubordinates down to the private soldier. The greater the partition of\nany force, the less an undivided control is possible, so much the more\nare subordinates left to themselves; that is self-evident. Certainly\nwhen the partition of a force is greater, then through the diversity of\naction and greater scope in the use of means the influence of\nintelligence must increase, and even the commander-in-chief may show\nhis talents to advantage under such circumstances; but we must here\nrepeat what has been said before, that in war the sum total of single\nresults decides more than the form or method in which they are\nconnected, and therefore, if we push our present considerations to an\nextreme case, and suppose a whole army extended in a line of\nskirmishers so that each private soldier fights his own little battle,\nmore will depend on the sum of single victories gained than on the form\nin which they are connected; for the benefit of good combinations can\nonly follow from positive results, not from negative. Therefore in such\na case the courage, the dexterity, and the spirit of individuals will\nprove decisive. It is only when two opposing armies are on a par as\nregards military qualities, or that their peculiar properties hold the\nbalance even, that the talent and judgment of the commander become\nagain decisive. The consequence is that national armies and insurgent\nlevies, etc., etc., in which, at least in the individual, the warlike\nspirit is highly excited, although they are not superior in skill and\nbravery, are still able to maintain a superiority by a great dispersion\nof their forces favoured by a difficult country, and that they can only\nmaintain themselves for a continuance upon that kind of system, because\ntroops of this description are generally destitute of all the qualities\nand virtues which are indispensable when tolerably large numbers are\nrequired to act as a united body.\n\nAlso in the nature of forces there are many gradations between one of\nthese extremes and the other, for the very circumstance of being\nengaged in the defence of its own country gives to even a regular\nstanding army something of the character of a national army, and makes\nit more suited for a war waged by an army broken up into detachments.\n\nNow the more these qualifications and influences are wanting in an\narmy, the greater they are on the side of its opponent, so much the\nmore will it dread being split into fractions, the more it will avoid a\nbroken country; but to avoid fighting in such a description of country\nis seldom a matter of choice; we cannot choose a theatre of war like a\npiece of merchandise from amongst several patterns, and thus we find\ngenerally that armies which from their nature fight with advantage in\nconcentrated masses, exhaust all their ingenuity in trying to carry out\ntheir system as far as possible in direct opposition _to the nature of\nthe country_. They must in consequence submit to other disadvantages,\nsuch as scanty and difficult subsistence for the troops, bad quarters,\nand in the combat numerous attacks from all sides; but the disadvantage\nof giving up their own special advantage would be greater.\n\nThese two tendencies in opposite directions, the one to concentration\nthe other to dispersion of forces, prevail more or less according as\nthe nature of the troops engaged incline them more to one side or the\nother, but however decided the tendency, the one side cannot always\nremain with his forces concentrated, neither can the other expect\nsuccess by following his system of warfare in scattered bodies on all\noccasions. The French were obliged to resort to partitioning their\nforces in Spain, and the Spaniards, whilst defending their country by\nmeans of an insurgent population, were obliged to try the fate of great\nbattles in the open field with part of their forces.\n\nNext to the connection which country and ground have with the general,\nand especially with the political, composition of the forces engaged,\nthe most important point is the relative proportion of the three arms.\n\nIn all countries which are difficult to traverse, whether the obstacles\nare mountains, forests, or a peculiar cultivation, a numerous cavalry\nis useless: that is plain in itself; it is just the same with artillery\nin wooded countries; there will probably be a want of room to use it\nwith effect, of roads to transport it, and of forage for the horses.\nFor this arm highly cultivated countries are less disadvantageous, and\nleast of all a mountainous country. Both, no doubt, afford cover\nagainst its fire, and in that respect they are unfavourable to an arm\nwhich depends entirely on its fire: both also often furnish means for\nthe enemy\u2019s infantry to place the heavy artillery in jeopardy, as\ninfantry can pass anywhere; but still in neither is there in general\nany want of space for the use of a numerous artillery, and in\nmountainous countries it has this great advantage, that its effects are\nprolonged and increased in consequence of the movements of the enemy\nbeing slower.\n\nBut it is undeniable that infantry has a decided advantage over every\nother arm in difficult country, and that, therefore, in such a country\nits number may considerably exceed the usual proportion.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. Command of Ground\n\nThe word \u201ccommand\u201d has a charm in the art of war peculiar to itself,\nand in fact to this element belongs a great part, perhaps half the\ninfluence which ground exercises on the use of troops. Here many of the\nsacred relics of military erudition have their root, as, for instance,\ncommanding positions, key positions, strategic man\u0153uvres, etc. We shall\ntake as clear a view of the subject as we can without prolixity, and\npass in review the true and the false, reality and exaggeration.\n\nEvery exertion of physical force if made upwards is more difficult than\nif it is made in the contrary direction (downwards); consequently it\nmust be so in fighting; and there are three evident reasons why it is\nso. First, every height may be regarded as an obstacle to approach;\nsecondly, although the range is not perceptibly greater in shooting\ndown from a height, yet, all geometrical relations being taken into\nconsideration, we have a better chance of hitting than in the opposite\ncase; thirdly, an elevation gives a better command of view. How all\nthese advantages unite themselves together in battle we are not\nconcerned with here; we collect the sum total of the advantages which\ntactics derives from elevation of position and combine them in one\nwhole which we regard as the first strategic advantage.\n\nBut the first and last of these advantages that have been enumerated\nmust appear once more as advantages of strategy itself, for we march\nand reconnoitre in strategy as well as in tactics; if, therefore, an\nelevated position is an obstacle to the approach of those on lower\nground, that is the second; and the better command of view which this\nelevated position affords is the third advantage which strategy may\nderive in this way.\n\nOf these elements is composed the power of dominating, overlooking,\ncommanding; from these sources springs the sense of superiority and\nsecurity which is felt in standing on the brow of a hill and looking at\nthe enemy below, and the feeling of weakness and apprehension which\npervades the minds of those below. Perhaps the total impression made is\nat the same time stronger than it ought to be, because the advantage of\nthe higher ground strikes the senses more than the circumstances which\nmodify that advantage. Perhaps the impression made surpasses that which\nthe truth warrants, in which case the effect of imagination must be\nregarded as a new element, which exaggerates the effect produced by an\nelevation of ground.\n\nAt the same time the advantage of greater facility of movement is not\nabsolute, and not always in favour of the side occupying the higher\nposition; it is only so when his opponent wishes to attack him; it is\nnot if the combatants are separated by a great valley, and it is\nactually in favour of the army on the lower ground if both wish to\nfight in the plain (battle of Hohenfriedberg). Also the power of\noverlooking, or command of view, has likewise great limitations. A\nwooded country in the valley below, and often the very masses of the\nmountains themselves on which we stand, obstruct the vision. Countless\nare the cases in which we might seek in vain on the spot for those\nadvantages of an elevated position which a map would lead us to expect;\nand we might often be led to think we had only involved ourselves in\nall kinds of disadvantages, the very opposite of the advantages we\ncounted upon. But these limitations and conditions do not abrogate or\ndestroy the superiority which the more elevated position confers, both\non the defensive and offensive. We shall point out, in a few words, how\nthis is the case with each.\n\nOut of the three strategic advantages of the more elevated ground, _the\ngreater tactical strength, the more difficult approach_, and _the\nbetter view_, the first two are of such a nature that they belong\nreally to the defensive only; for it is only in holding firmly to a\nposition that we can make use of them, whilst the other side\n(offensive) in moving cannot remove them and take them with him; but\nthe third advantage can be made use of by the offensive just as well as\nby the defensive.\n\nFrom this it follows that the more elevated ground is highly important\nto the defensive, and as it can only be maintained in a decisive way in\nmountainous countries, therefore it would seem to follow, as a\nconsequence, that the defensive has an important advantage in mountain\npositions. How it is that, through other circumstances, this is not so\nin reality, we shall show in the chapter on the defence of mountains.\n\nWe must first of all make a distinction if the question relates merely\nto commanding ground at one single point, as, for example, a position\nfor an army; in such case the strategic advantages rather merge in the\ntactical one of a battle fought under advantageous circumstances; but\nif now we imagine a considerable tract of country\u2014suppose a whole\nprovince\u2014as a regular slope, like the declivity at a general watershed,\nso that we can make several marches, and always hold the upper ground,\nthen the strategic advantages become greater, because we can now use\nthe advantages of the more elevated ground not only in the combination\nof our forces with each other for one particular combat, but also in\nthe combination of several combats with one another. Thus it is with\nthe defensive.\n\nAs regards the offensive, it enjoys to a certain extent the same\nadvantages as the defensive from the more elevated ground; for this\nreason that the stragetic attack is not confined to one act like the\ntactical. The strategic advance is not the continuous movement of a\npiece of wheelwork; it is made in single marches with a longer or\nshorter interval between them, and at each halting point the assailant\nis just as much acting on the defensive as his adversary.\n\nThrough the advantage of a better view of the surrounding country, an\nelevated position confers, in a certain measure, on the offensive as\nwell as the defensive, a power of action which we must not omit to\nnotice; it is the facility of operating with separate masses. For each\nportion of a force separately derives the same advantages which the\nwhole derives from this more elevated position; by this\u2014a separate\ncorps, let it be strong or weak in numbers, is stronger than it would\notherwise be, and we can venture to take up a position with less danger\nthan we could if it had not that particular property of being on an\nelevation. The advantages which are to be derived from such separate\nbodies of troops is a subject for another place.\n\nIf the possession of more elevated ground is combined with other\ngeographical advantages which are in our favour, if the enemy finds\nhimself cramped in his movements from other causes, as, for instance,\nby the proximity of a large river, such disadvantages of his position\nmay prove quite decisive, and he may feel that he cannot too soon\nrelieve himself from such a position. No army can maintain itself in\nthe valley of a great river if it is not in possession of the heights\non each side by which the valley is formed.\n\nThe possession of elevated ground may therefore become virtually\ncommand, and we can by no means deny that this idea represents a\nreality. But nevertheless the expressions \u201ccommanding ground,\u201d\n\u201csheltering position,\u201d \u201ckey of the country,\u201d in so far as they are\nfounded on the nature of heights and descents, are hollow shells\nwithout any sound kernel. These imposing elements of theory have been\nchiefly resorted to in order to give a flavour to the seeming\ncommonplace of military combinations; they have become the darling\nthemes of learned soldiers, the magical wands of adepts in strategy,\nand neither the emptiness of these fanciful conceits, nor the frequent\ncontradictions which have been given to them by the results of\nexperience have sufficed to convince authors, and those who read their\nbooks, that with such phraseology they are drawing water in the leaky\nvessel of the Danaides. The conditions have been mistaken for the thing\nitself, the instrument for the hand. The occupation of such and such a\nposition or space of ground, has been looked upon as an exercise of\npower like a thrust or a cut, the ground or position itself as a\nsubstantive quantity; whereas the one is like the lifting of the arm,\nthe other is nothing but the lifeless instrument, a mere property which\ncan only realise itself upon an object, a mere sign of plus or minus\nwhich wants the figures or quantities. This cut and thrust, this\nobject, this quantity, is _a victorious battle;_ it alone really\ncounts; with it only can we reckon; and we must always have it in view,\nas well in giving a critical judgment in literature as in real action\nin the field.\n\nConsequently, if nothing but the number and value of victorious combats\ndecides in war, it is plain that the comparative value of the opposing\narmies and ability of their respective leaders again rank as the first\npoints for consideration, and that the part which the influence of\nground plays can only be one of an inferior grade.\n\n\n\nBOOK VI DEFENCE\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Offence and Defence\n\n1.\u2014Conception of Defence.\n\n\nWhat is defence in conception? The warding off a blow. What is then its\ncharacteristic sign? The state of expectancy (or of waiting for this\nblow). This is the sign by which we always recognise an act as of a\ndefensive character, and by this sign alone can the defensive be\ndistinguished from the offensive in war. But inasmuch as an absolute\ndefence completely contradicts the idea of war, because there would\nthen be war carried on by one side only, it follows that the defence in\nwar can only be relative and the above distinguishing signs must\ntherefore only be applied to the essential idea or general conception:\nit does not apply to all the separate acts which compose the war. A\npartial combat is defensive if we receive the onset, the charge of the\nenemy; a battle is so if we receive the attack, that is, wait for the\nappearance of the enemy before our position and within range of our\nfire; a campaign is defensive if we wait for the entry of the enemy\ninto our theatre of war. In all these cases the sign of waiting for and\nwarding off belongs to the general conception, without any\ncontradiction arising with the conception of war, for it may be to our\nadvantage to wait for the charge against our bayonets, or the attack on\nour position or our theatre of war. But as we must return the enemy\u2019s\nblows if we are really to carry on war on our side, therefore this\noffensive act in defensive war takes place more or less under the\ngeneral title defensive\u2014that is to say, the offensive of which we make\nuse falls under the conception of position or theatre of war. We can,\ntherefore, in a defensive campaign fight offensively, in a defensive\nbattle we may use some divisions for offensive purposes, and lastly,\nwhile remaining in position awaiting the enemy\u2019s onslaught, we still\nmake use of the offensive by sending at the same time balls into the\nenemy\u2019s ranks. The defensive form in war is therefore no mere shield\nbut a shield formed of blows delivered with skill.\n\n2.\u2014Advantages of the Defensive.\n\n\nWhat is the object of defence? _To preserve_. To preserve is easier\nthan to acquire; from which follows at once that the means on both\nsides being supposed equal, the defensive is easier than the offensive.\nBut in what consists the greater facility of preserving or keeping\npossession? In this, that all time which is not turned to any account\nfalls into the scale in favour of the defence. He reaps where he has\nnot sowed. Every suspension of offensive action, either from erroneous\nviews, from fear or from indolence, is in favour of the side acting\ndefensively. This advantage saved the State of Prussia from ruin more\nthan once in the Seven Years\u2019 War. It is one which derives itself from\nthe conception and object of the defensive, lies in the nature of all\ndefence, and in ordinary life, particularly in legal business which\nbears so much resemblance to war, it is expressed by the Latin proverb,\n_Beati sunt possidentes_. Another advantage arising from the nature of\nwar and belonging to it exclusively, is the aid afforded by locality or\nground; this is one of which the defensive form has a preferential use.\n\nHaving established these general ideas we now turn more directly to the\nsubject.\n\nIn tactics every combat, great or small, is _defensive_ if we leave the\ninitiative to the enemy, and wait for his appearance in our front. From\nthat moment forward we can make use of all offensive means without\nlosing the said two advantages of the defence, namely, that of waiting\nfor, and that of ground. In strategy, at first, the campaign represents\nthe battle, and the theatre of war the position; but afterwards the\nwhole war takes the place of the campaign, and the whole country that\nof the theatre of war, and in both cases the defensive remains that\nwhich it was in tactics.\n\nIt has been already observed in a general way that the defensive is\neasier than the offensive; but as the defensive has a negative object,\nthat of _preserving_, and the offensive a positive object that of\n_conquering_, and as the latter increases our own means of carrying on\nwar, but the preserving does not, therefore in order to express\nourselves distinctly, we must say, _that the defensive form of war is\nin itself stronger than the offensive_. This is the result we have been\ndesirous of arriving at; for although it lies completely in the nature\nof the thing, and has been confirmed by experience a thousand times,\nstill it is completely contrary to prevalent opinion\u2014a proof how ideas\nmay be confused by superficial writers.\n\nIf the defensive is the stronger form of conducting war, but has a\nnegative object, it follows of itself that we must only make use of it\nso long as our weakness compels us to do so, and that we must give up\nthat form as soon as we feel strong enough to aim at the positive\nobject. Now as the state of our circumstances is usually improved in\nthe event of our gaining a victory through the assistance of the\ndefensive, it is therefore, also, the natural course in war to begin\nwith the defensive, and to end with the offensive. It is therefore just\nas much in contradiction with the conception of war to suppose the\ndefensive the ultimate object of the war as it was a contradiction to\nunderstand passivity to belong to all the parts of the defensive, as\nwell as to the defensive as a whole. In other words: a war in which\nvictories are merely used to ward off blows, and where there is no\nattempt to return the blow, would be just as absurd as a battle in\nwhich the most absolute defence (passivity) should everywhere prevail\nin all measures.\n\nAgainst the justice of this general view many examples might be quoted\nin which the defensive continued defensive to the last, and the\nassumption of the offensive was never contemplated; but such an\nobjection could only be urged if we lost sight of the fact that here\nthe question is only about general ideas (abstract ideas), and that\nexamples in opposition to the general conception we are discussing are\nall of them to be looked upon as cases in which the time for the\npossibility of offensive reaction had not yet arrived.\n\nIn the Seven Years\u2019 War, at least in the last three years of it,\nFrederick the Great did not think of an offensive; indeed we believe\nfurther, that generally speaking, he only acted on the offensive at any\ntime in this war as the best means of defending himself; his whole\nsituation compelled him to this course, and it is natural that a\ngeneral should aim more immediately at that which is most in accordance\nwith the situation in which he is placed for the time being.\nNevertheless, we cannot look at this example of a defence upon a great\nscale without supposing that the idea of a possible counterstroke\nagainst Austria lay at the bottom of the whole of it, and saying to\nourselves, the moment for that counterstroke had not arrived before the\nwar came to a close. The conclusion of peace shows that this idea is\nnot without foundation even in this instance; for what could have\nactuated the Austrians to make peace except the thought that they were\nnot in a condition with their own forces alone to make head against the\ntalent of the king; that to maintain an equilibrium their exertions\nmust be greater than heretofore, and that the slightest relaxation of\ntheir efforts would probably lead to fresh losses of territory. And, in\nfact, who can doubt that if Russia, Sweden, and the army of the German\nEmpire had ceased to act together against Frederick the Great he would\nhave tried to conquer the Austrians again in Bohemia and Moravia?\n\nHaving thus defined the true meaning of the defensive, having defined\nits boundaries, we return again to the assertion that the defensive _is\nthe stronger form of making war._\n\nUpon a closer examination, and comparison of the offensive and\ndefensive, this will appear perfectly plain; but for the present we\nshall confine ourselves to noticing the contradiction in which we\nshould be involved with ourselves, and with the results of experience\nby maintaining the contrary to be the fact. If the offensive form was\nthe stronger there would be no further occasion ever to use the\ndefensive, as it has merely a negative object, every one would be for\nattacking, and the defensive would be an absurdity. On the other hand,\nit is very natural that the higher object should be purchased by\ngreater sacrifices. Whoever feels himself strong enough to make use of\nthe weaker form has it in his power to aim at the greater object;\nwhoever sets before himself the smaller object can only do so in order\nto have the benefit of the stronger form\u2014If we look to experience, such\na thing is unheard of as any one carrying on a war upon two different\ntheatres\u2014offensively on one with the weaker army, and defensively on\nthe other with his strongest force But if the reverse of this has\neverywhere and at all times taken place that shows plainly that\ngenerals although their own inclination prompts them to the offensive,\nstill hold the defensive to be the stronger form. We have still in the\nnext chapters to explain some preliminary points.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other\nin Tactics\n\nFirst of all we must inquire into the circumstances which give the\nvictory in a battle.\n\nOf superiority of numbers, and bravery, discipline, or other qualities\nof an army, we say nothing here, because, as a rule, they depend on\nthings which lie out of the province of the art of war in the sense in\nwhich we are now considering it; besides which they exercise the same\neffect in the offensive as the defensive; and, moreover also, the\nsuperiority in _numbers in general_ cannot come under consideration\nhere, as the number of troops is likewise a given quantity or\ncondition, and does not depend on the will or pleasure of the general.\nFurther, these things have no particular connection with attack and\ndefence. But, irrespective of these things, there are other three which\nappear to us of decisive importance, these are: _surprise, advantage of\nground_, and _the attack from several quarters_. The surprise produces\nan effect by opposing to the enemy a great many more troops than he\nexpected at some particular point. The superiority in numbers in this\ncase is very different to a general superiority of numbers; it is the\nmost powerful agent in the art of war.\u2014The way in which the advantage\nof ground contributes to the victory is intelligible enough of itself,\nand we have only one observation to make which is, that we do not\nconfine our remarks to obstacles which obstruct the advance of an\nenemy, such as scarped grounds, high hills, marshy streams, hedges,\ninclosures, etc.; we also allude to the advantage which ground affords\nas cover, under which troops are concealed from view. Indeed we may say\nthat even from ground which is quite unimportant a person acquainted\nwith the locality may derive assistance. The attack from several\nquarters includes in itself all tactical turning movements great and\nsmall, and its effects are derived partly from the double execution\nobtained in this way from fire-arms, and partly from the enemy\u2019s dread\nof his retreat being cut off.\n\nNow how do the offensive and defensive stand respectively in relation\nto these things?\n\nHaving in view the three principles of victory just described, the\nanswer to this question is, that only a small portion of the first and\nlast of these principles is in favour of the offensive, whilst the\ngreater part of them, and the whole of the second principle, are at the\ncommand of the party acting defensively.\n\nThe offensive side can only have the advantage of one complete surprise\nof the whole mass with the whole, whilst the defensive is in a\ncondition to surprise incessantly, throughout the whole course of the\ncombat, by the force and form which he gives to his partial attacks.\n\nThe offensive has greater facilities than the defensive for surrounding\nand cutting off the whole, as the latter is in a manner in a fixed\nposition while the former is in a state of movement having reference to\nthat position. But the superior advantage for an enveloping movement,\nwhich the offensive possesses, as now stated, is again limited to a\nmovement against the whole mass; for during the course of the combat,\nand with separate divisions of the force, it is easier for the\ndefensive than for the offensive to make attacks from several quarters,\n_because, as we have already said, the former is in a better situation\nto surprise by the force and form of his attacks._\n\nThat the defensive in an especial manner enjoys the assistance which\nground affords is plain in itself; as to what concerns the advantage\nwhich the defensive has in surprising by the force and form of his\nattacks, that results from the offensive being obliged to approach by\nroads and paths where he may be easily observed, whilst the defensive\nconceals his position, and, until almost the decisive moment, remains\ninvisible to his opponent.\u2014Since the true method of defence has been\nadopted, reconnaissances have gone quite out of fashion, that is to\nsay, they have become impossible. Certainly reconnaissances are still\nmade at times, but they seldom bring home much with them. Immense as is\nthe advantage of being able to examine well a position, and become\nperfectly acquainted with it before a battle, plain as it is that he\n(the defensive) who lies in wait near such a chosen position can much\nmore easily effect a surprise than his adversary, yet still to this\nvery hour the old notion is not exploded that a battle which is\naccepted is half lost. This comes from the old kind of defensive\npractised twenty years ago, and partly also in the Seven Years\u2019 War,\nwhen the only assistance expected from the ground was that it should be\ndifficult of approach in front (by steep mountain slopes, etc., etc.),\nwhen the little depth of the positions and the difficulty of moving the\nflanks produced such weakness that the armies dodged one another from\none hill to another, which increased the evil. If some kind of support\nwere found on which to rest the wings, then all depended on preventing\nthe army stretched along between these points, like a piece of work on\nan embroidery frame, from being broken through at any point. The ground\noccupied possessed a direct value at every point, and therefore a\ndirect defence was required everywhere. Under such circumstances, the\nidea of making a movement or attempting a surprise during the battle\ncould not be entertained; it was the exact reverse of what constitutes\na good defence, and of that which the defence has actually become in\nmodern warfare.\n\nIn reality, contempt for the defensive has always been the result of\nsome particular method of defence having become worn out (outlived its\nperiod); and this was just the case with the method we have now\nmentioned, for in times antecedent to the period we refer to, that very\nmethod was superior to the offensive.\n\nIf we go through the progressive development of the modern art of war,\nwe find that at the commencement\u2014that is the Thirty Years\u2019 War and the\nwar of the Spanish Succession\u2014the deployment and drawing up of the army\nin array, was one of the great leading points connected with the\nbattle. It was the most important part of the plan of the battle. This\ngave the defensive, as a rule, a great advantage, as he was already\ndrawn up and deployed. As soon as the troops acquired greater\ncapability of man\u0153uvring, this advantage ceased, and the superiority\npassed over to the side of the offensive for a time. Then the defensive\nsought shelter behind rivers or deep valleys, or on high land. The\ndefensive thus recovered the advantage, and continued to maintain it\nuntil the offensive acquired such increased mobility and expertness in\nman\u0153uvring that he himself could venture into broken ground and attack\nin separate columns, and therefore became able _to turn_ his adversary.\nThis led to a gradual increase in the length of positions, in\nconsequence of which, no doubt, it occurred to the offensive to\nconcentrate at a few points, and break through the enemy\u2019s thin line.\nThe offensive thus, for a third time, gained the ascendancy, and the\ndefence was again obliged to alter its system. This it has done in\nrecent wars by keeping its forces concentrated in large masses, the\ngreater part not deployed, and, where possible, concealed, thus merely\ntaking up a position in readiness to act according to the measures of\nthe enemy as soon as they are sufficiently revealed.\n\nThis does not preclude a partially passive defence of the ground; its\nadvantage is too great for it not to be used a hundred times in a\ncampaign. But that kind of passive defence of the ground is usually no\nlonger the principal affair: that is what we have to do with here.\n\nIf the offensive should discover some new and powerful element which it\ncan bring to its assistance\u2014an event not very probable, seeing the\npoint of simplicity and natural order to which all is now brought\u2014then\nthe defence must again alter its method. But the defensive is always\ncertain of the assistance of ground, which insures to it in general its\nnatural superiority, as the special properties of country and ground\nexercise a greater influence than ever on actual warfare.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other\nin Strategy\n\nLet us ask again, first of all, what are the circumstances which insure\na successful result in strategy?\n\nIn strategy there is no victory, as we have before said. On the one\nhand, the strategic success is the successful preparation of the\ntactical victory; the greater this strategic success, the more probable\nbecomes the victory in the battle. On the other hand, strategic success\nlies in the making use of the victory gained. The more events the\nstrategic combinations can in the sequel include in the consequences of\na battle gained, the more strategy can lay hands on amongst the wreck\nof all that has been shaken to the foundation by the battle, the more\nit sweeps up in great masses what of necessity has been gained with\ngreat labour by many single hands in the battle, the grander will be\nits success.\u2014Those things which chiefly lead to this success, or at\nleast facilitate it, consequently the leading principles of efficient\naction in strategy, are as follow:\u2014\n\n1. The advantage of ground.\n\n2. The surprise, let it be either in the form of an actual attack by\nsurprise or by the unexpected display of large forces at certain\npoints.\n\n3. The attack from several quarters (all three, as in tactics).\n\n4. The assistance of the theatre of war by fortresses, and everything\nbelonging to them.\n\n5. The support of the people.\n\n6. The utilisation of great moral forces.\n\nNow, what are the relations of offensive and defensive with respect to\nthese things?\n\nThe party on the defensive has the advantage of ground; the offensive\nside that of the attack by surprise in strategy, as in tactics But\nrespecting the surprise, we must observe that it is infinitely more\nefficacious and important in strategy than in tactics. In the latter, a\nsurprise seldom rises to the level of a great victory, while in\nstrategy it often finishes the war at one stroke. But at the same time\nwe must observe that the advantageous use of this means supposes some\n_great_ and _uncommon_, as well as _decisive_ error committed by the\nadversary, therefore it does not alter the balance much in favour of\nthe offensive.\n\nThe surprise of the enemy, by placing superior forces in position at\ncertain points, has again a great resemblance to the analogous case in\ntactics. Were the defensive compelled to distribute his forces upon\nseveral points of approach to his theatre of war, then the offensive\nwould have plainly the advantage of being able to fall upon one point\nwith all his weight. But here also, the new art of acting on the\ndefensive by a different mode of proceeding has imperceptibly brought\nabout new principles. If the defensive side does not apprehend that the\nenemy, by making use of an undefended road, will throw himself upon\nsome important magazine or dep\u00f4t, or on some unprepared fortification,\nor on the capital itself.\u2014and if he is not reduced to the alternative\nof opposing the enemy on the road he has chosen, or of having his\nretreat cut off, then there are no peremptory grounds for dividing his\nforces; for if the offensive chooses a different road from that on\nwhich the defensive is to be found, then some days later the latter can\nmarch against his opponent with his whole force upon the road he has\nchosen; besides, he may at the same time, in most cases, rest satisfied\nthat the offensive will do him the honour to seek him out.\u2014If the\noffensive is obliged to advance with his forces divided, which is often\nunavoidable on account of subsistence, then plainly the defensive has\nthe advantage on his side of being able to fall in force upon a\nfraction of the enemy.\n\nAttacks in flank and rear, which in strategy mean on the sides and\nreverse of the theatre of war, are of a very different nature to\nattacks so called in tactics.\n\n1st. There is no bringing the enemy under two fires, because we cannot\nfire from one end of a theatre of war to the other.\n\n2nd. The apprehension of losing the line of retreat is very much less,\nfor the spaces in strategy are so great that they cannot be barred as\nin tactics.\n\n3rd. In strategy, on account of the extent of space embraced, the\nefficacy of interior, that is of shorter lines, is much greater, and\nthis forms a great safeguard against attacks from several directions.\n\n4th. A new principle makes its appearance in the sensibility, which is\nfelt as to lines of communication, that is in the effect which is\nproduced by merely interrupting them.\n\nNow it confessedly lies in the nature of things, that on account of the\ngreater spaces in strategy, the enveloping attack, or the attack from\nseveral sides, as a rule is only possible for the side which has the\ninitiative, that is the offensive, and that the defensive is not in a\ncondition, as he is in tactics, in the course of the action, to turn\nthe tables on the enemy by surrounding him, because he has it not in\nhis power either to draw up his forces with the necessary depth\nrelatively, or to conceal them sufficiently: but then, of what use is\nthe facility of enveloping to the offensive, if its advantages are not\nforthcoming? We could not therefore bring forward the enveloping attack\nin strategy as a principle of victory in general, if its influence on\nthe lines of communication did not come into consideration. But this\nfactor is seldom great at the first moment, when attack and defence\nfirst meet, and while they are still opposed to each other in their\noriginal position; it only becomes great as a campaign advances, when\nthe offensive in the enemy\u2019s country is by degrees brought into the\ncondition of defensive; then the lines of communication of this new\nparty acting on the defensive, become weak, and the party originally on\nthe defensive, in assuming the offensive can derive advantage from this\nweakness. But who does not see that this casual superiority of the\nattack is not to be carried to the credit of the offensive in general,\nfor it is in reality created out of the superior relations of the\ndefensive.\n\nThe fourth principle, the _Assistance of the Theatre of War_, is\nnaturally an advantage on the side of the defensive. If the attacking\narmy opens the campaign, it breaks away from its own theatre, and is\nthus weakened, that is, it leaves fortresses and dep\u00f4ts of all kinds\nbehind it. The greater the sphere of operations which must be\ntraversed, the more it will be weakened (by marches and garrisons); the\narmy on the defensive continues to keep up its connection with\neverything, that is, it enjoys the support of its fortresses, is not\nweakened in any way, and is near to its sources of supply.\n\n_The support of the population_ as a fifth principle is not realised in\nevery defence, for a defensive campaign may be carried on in the\nenemy\u2019s country, but still this principle is only derived from the idea\nof the defensive, and applies to it in the majority of cases. Besides\nby this is meant chiefly, although not exclusively, the effect of\ncalling out the last Reserves, and even of a national armament, the\nresult of which is that all friction is diminished, and that all\nresources are sooner forthcoming and flow in more abundantly.\n\nThe campaign of 1812, gives as it were in a magnifying glass a very\nclear illustration of the effect of the means specified under\nprinciples 3 and 4. 500,000 men passed the Niemen, 120,000 fought at\nBorodino, and much fewer arrived at Moscow.\n\nWe may say that the effect itself of this stupendous attempt was so\ndisastrous that even if the Russians had not assumed any offensive at\nall, they would still have been secure from any fresh attempt at\ninvasion for a considerable time. It is true that with the exception of\nSweden there is no country in Europe which is situated like Russia, but\nthe efficient principle is always the same, the only distinction being\nin the greater or less degree of its strength.\n\nIf we add to the fourth and fifth principles, the consideration that\nthese forces of the defensive belong to the original defensive, that is\nthe defensive carried on in our own soil, and that they are much weaker\nif the defence takes place in an enemy\u2019s country and is mixed up with\nan offensive undertaking, then from that there is a new disadvantage\nfor the offensive, much the same as above, in respect to the third\nprinciple; for the offensive is just as little composed entirely of\nactive elements, as the defensive of mere warding off blows; indeed\nevery attack which does not lead directly to peace must inevitably end\nin the defensive.\n\nNow, if all defensive elements which are brought into use in the attack\nare weakened by its nature, that is by belonging to the attack, then\nthis must also be considered as a general disadvantage of the\noffensive.\n\nThis is far from being an idle piece of logical refinement, on the\ncontrary we should rather say that in it lies the chief disadvantage of\nthe offensive in general, and therefore from the very commencement of,\nas well as throughout every combination for a strategic attack, most\nparticular attention ought to be directed to this point, that is to the\ndefensive, which may follow, as we shall see more plainly when we come\nto the book on plans of campaigns.\n\nThe great moral forces which at times saturate the element of war, as\nit were with a leaven of their own, which therefore the commander in\ncertain cases can use to assist the other means at his command, are to\nbe supposed just as well on the side of the defensive as of the\noffensive; at least those which are more especially in favour of the\nattack, such as confusion and disorder in the enemy\u2019s ranks\u2014do not\ngenerally appear until after the decisive stroke is given, and\nconsequently seldom contribute beforehand to produce that result.\n\nWe think we have now sufficiently established our proposition, that the\n_defensive is a stronger form of war than the offensive;_ but there\nstill remains to be mentioned one small factor hitherto unnoticed. It\nis the high spirit, the feeling of superiority in an army which springs\nfrom a consciousness of belonging to the attacking party. The thing is\nin itself a fact, but the feeling soon merges into the more general and\nmore powerful one which is imparted by victory or defeat, by the talent\nor incapacity of the general.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Convergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence\n\nThese two conceptions, these forms in the use of offensive and\ndefensive, appear so frequently in theory and reality, that the\nimagination is involuntarily disposed to look upon them as intrinsic\nforms, necessary to attack and defence, which, however, is not really\nthe case, as the smallest reflection will show. We take the earliest\nopportunity of examining them, that we may obtain once for all clear\nideas respecting them, and that, in proceeding with our consideration\nof the relations of attack and defence, we may be able to set these\nconceptions aside altogether, and not have our attention for ever\ndistracted by the appearance of advantage and the reverse which they\ncast upon things. We treat them here as pure abstractions, extract the\nconception of them like an essence, and reserve our remarks on the part\nwhich it has in actual things for a future time.\n\nThe defending party, both in tactics and in strategy, is supposed to be\nwaiting in expectation, therefore standing, whilst the assailant is\nimagined to be in movement, and in movement expressly directed against\nthat standing adversary. It follows from this, necessarily, that\nturning and enveloping is at the option of the assailant only, that is\nto say, as long as his movement and the immobility of the defensive\ncontinue. This freedom of choice of the mode of attack, whether it\nshall be convergent or not, according as it shall appear advantageous\nor otherwise, ought to be reckoned as an advantage to the offensive in\ngeneral. But this choice is free only in tactics; it is not always\nallowed in strategy. In the first, the points on which the wings rest\nare hardly ever absolutely secure; but they are very frequently so in\nstrategy, as when the front to be defended stretches in a straight line\nfrom one sea to another, or from one neutral territory to another. In\nsuch cases, the attack cannot be made in a convergent form, and the\nliberty of choice is limited. It is limited in a still more\nembarrassing manner if the assailant is obliged to operate by\nconverging lines. Russia and France cannot attack Germany in any other\nway than by converging lines; therefore they cannot attack with their\nforces united. Now if we assume as granted that the concentric form in\nthe action of forces in the majority of cases is the weaker form, then\nthe advantage which the assailant possesses in the greater freedom of\nchoice may probably be completely outweighed by the disadvantage, in\nother cases, of being compelled to make use of the weaker form.\n\nWe proceed to examine more closely the action of these forms, both in\ntactics and in strategy.\n\nIt has been considered one of the chief advantages of giving a\nconcentric direction to forces, that is, operating from the\ncircumference of a circle towards the centre, that the further the\nforces advance, the nearer they approach to each other; the fact is\ntrue, but the supposed advantage is not; for the tendency to union is\ngoing on equally on both sides; consequently, the equilibrium is not\ndisturbed. It is the same in the dispersion of force by eccentric\nmovements.\n\nBut another and a real advantage is, that forces operating on\nconverging lines direct their action towards a _common point_, those\noperating on diverging lines do not.\u2014Now what are the effects of the\naction in the two cases? Here we must separate tactics from strategy.\n\nWe shall not push the analysis too far, and therefore confine ourselves\nto the following points as the advantages of the action in tactics.\n\n1. A cross fire, or, at least, an increased effect of fire, as soon as\nall is brought within a certain range.\n\n2. Attack of one and the same point from several sides.\n\n3. The cutting off the retreat.\n\nThe interception of a retreat may be also conceived strategically, but\nthen it is plainly much more difficult, because great spaces are not\neasily blocked. The attack upon one and the same body from several\nquarters is generally more effectual and decisive, the smaller this\nbody is, the nearer it approaches to the lowest limit\u2014that of a single\ncombatant. An army can easily give battle on several sides, a division\nless easily, a battalion only when formed in mass, a single man not at\nall. Now strategy, in its province, deals with large masses of men,\nextensive spaces, and considerable duration of time; with tactics, it\nis the reverse. From this follows that the attack from several sides in\nstrategy cannot have the same results as in tactics.\n\nThe effect of fire does not come within the scope of strategy; but in\nits place there is something else. It is that tottering of the base\nwhich every army feels when there is a victorious enemy in its rear,\nwhether near or far off.\n\nIt is, therefore, certain that the concentric action of forces has an\nadvantage in this way, that the action or effect against a is at the\nsame time one against _b_, without its force against _a_ being\ndiminished, and that the action against _b_ is likewise action against\n_a_. The whole, therefore, is not _a_ + _b_, but something more; and\nthis advantage is produced both in tactics and strategy, although\nsomewhat differently in each.\n\nNow what is there in the eccentric or divergent action of forces to\noppose to this advantage? Plainly the advantage of having the forces in\ngreater proximity to each other, and the moving on _interior lines_. It\nis unnecessary to demonstrate how this can become such a multiplier of\nforces that the assailant cannot encounter the advantage it gives his\nopponent unless he has a great superiority of force.\u2014When once the\ndefensive has adopted the principle of movement (movement which\ncertainly commences later than that of the assailant, but still time\nenough to break the chains of paralysing inaction), then this advantage\nof greater concentration and the interior lines tends much more\ndecisively, and in most cases more effectually, towards victory than\nthe concentric form of the attack. But victory must precede the\nrealisation of this superiority; we must conquer before we can think of\ncutting off an enemy\u2019s retreat. In short, we see that there is here a\nrelation similar to that which exists between attack and defence\ngenerally; the concentric form leads to brilliant results, the\nadvantages of the eccentric are more secure: the former is the weaker\nform with the positive object; the latter, the stronger form with the\nnegative object. In this way these two forms seem to us to be brought\nnearly to an even balance. Now if we add to this that the defence, not\nbeing always absolute, is also not always precluded from using its\nforces on converging lines, we have no longer a right to believe that\nthis converging form is alone sufficient to ensure to the offensive a\nsuperiority over the defensive universally, and thus we set ourselves\nfree from the influence which that opinion usually exercises over the\njudgment, whenever there is an opportunity.\n\nWhat has been said up to the present, relates to both tactics and\nstrategy; we have still a most important point to bring forward, which\napplies to strategy only. The advantage of interior lines increases\nwith the distances to which these lines relate. In distances of a few\nthousand yards, or a half mile, the time which is gained, cannot of\ncourse be as much as in distances of several days\u2019 march, or indeed, of\ntwenty or thirty miles; the first, that is, the small distances,\nconcerns tactics, the greater ones belong to strategy. But, although we\ncertainly require more time, to reach an object in strategy, than in\ntactics, and an army is not so quickly defeated as a battalion, still,\nthese periods of time in strategy can only increase up to a certain\npoint; that is, they can only last until a battle takes place, or,\nperhaps, over and above that, for the few days during which a battle\nmay be avoided without serious loss. Further, there is a much greater\ndifference in the real start in advance, which is gained in one case,\nas compared with the other. Owing to the insignificance of the\ndistances in tactics, the movements of one army in a battle, take place\nalmost in sight of the other; the army, therefore, on the exterior\nline, will generally very soon be made aware of what his adversary is\ndoing. From the long distances, with which strategy has to deal, it\nvery seldom happens, that the movement of one army, is not concealed\nfrom the other for at least a day, and there are numerous instances, in\nwhich especially if the movement is only partial, such as a\nconsiderable detachment, that it remains secret for weeks.\u2014It is easy\nto see, what a great advantage this power of concealing movements must\nbe to that party, who through the nature of his position has reason to\ndesire it most.\n\nWe here close our considerations on the convergent and divergent use of\nforces, and the relation of those forms to attack and defence,\nproposing to return to the subject at another time.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Character of the Strategic Defensive\n\nWe have already explained what the defensive is generally, namely,\nnothing more than a stronger form of carrying on war, by means of which\nwe endeavour to wrest a victory, in order, after having gained a\nsuperiority, to pass over to the offensive, that is to the positive\nobject of war.\n\nEven if the intention of a war is only the maintenance of the existing\nsituation of things, the _status quo_, still a mere parrying of a blow\nis something quite contradictory to the conception of the term war,\nbecause the conduct of war is unquestionably no mere state of\nendurance. If the defender has obtained an important advantage, then\nthe defensive form has done its part, and under the protection of this\nsuccess he must give back the blow, otherwise he exposes himself to\ncertain destruction; common sense points out that iron should be struck\nwhile it is hot, that we should use the advantage gained to guard\nagainst a second attack. How, when and where this reaction shall\ncommence is subject certainly to a number of other conditions, which we\ncan only explain hereafter. For the present we keep to this, that we\nmust always consider this transition to an offensive return as a\nnatural tendency of the defensive, therefore as an essential element of\nthe same, and always conclude that there is something wrong in the\nmanagement of a war when a victory gained through the defensive form is\nnot turned to good account in any manner, but allowed to wither away.\n\nA swift and vigorous assumption of the offensive\u2014the flashing sword of\nvengeance\u2014is the most brilliant point in the defensive; he who does not\nat once think of it at the right moment, or rather he who does not from\nthe first include this transition in his idea of the defensive will\nnever understand the superiority of the defensive as a form of war; he\nwill be for ever thinking only of the means which will be consumed by\nthe enemy and gained by ourselves through the offensive, which means\nhowever depend not on tying the knot, but on untying it. Further, it is\na stupid confusion of ideas if, under the term offensive, we always\nunderstand sudden attack or surprise, and consequently under defensive\nimagine nothing but embarrassment and confusion.\n\nIt is true that a conqueror makes his determination to go to war sooner\nthan the unconscious defender, and if he knows how to keep his measures\nproperly secret, he may also perhaps take the defender unawares; but\nthat is a thing quite foreign to war itself, for it should not be so.\nWar actually takes place more for the defensive than for the conqueror,\nfor invasion only calls forth resistance, and it is not until there is\nresistance that there is war. A conqueror is always a lover of peace\n(as Buonaparte always asserted of himself); he would like to make his\nentry into our state unopposed; in order to prevent this, we must\nchoose war, and therefore also make preparations, that is in other\nwords, it is just the weak, or that side which must defend itself,\nwhich should be always armed in order not to be taken by surprise; so\nit is willed by the art of war.\n\nThe appearance of one side sooner than the other in the theatre of war\ndepends, besides, in most cases on things quite different from a view\nto offensive or defensive. But although a view to one or other of these\nforms is not the cause, it is often the result of this priority of\nappearance. Whoever is first ready will on that account go to work\noffensively, if the advantage of surprise is sufficiently great to make\nit expedient; and the party who is the last to be ready can only then\nin some measure compensate for the disadvantage which threatens him by\nthe advantages of the defensive.\n\nAt the same time, it must be looked upon in general as an advantage for\nthe offensive, that he can make that good use of being the first in the\nfield which has been noticed in the third book; only this general\nadvantage is not an absolute necessity in every case.\n\nIf, therefore, we imagine to ourselves a defensive, such as it should\nbe, we must suppose it with every possible preparation of all means,\nwith an army fit for, and inured to, war, with a general who does not\nwait for his adversary with anxiety from an embarrassing feeling of\nuncertainty, but from his own free choice, with cool presence of mind,\nwith fortresses which do not dread a siege, and lastly, with a loyal\npeople who fear the enemy as little as he fears them. With such\nattributes the defensive will act no such contemptible part in\nopposition to the offensive, and the latter will not appear such an\neasy and certain form of war, as it does in the gloomy imaginations of\nthose who can only see in the offensive courage, strength of will, and\nenergy; in the defensive, helplessness and apathy.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Extent of the Means of Defence\n\nWe have shown in the second and third chapters of this book how the\ndefence has a natural advantage in the employment of those things,\nwhich,\u2014irrespective of the absolute strength and qualities of the\ncombatant force,\u2014influence the tactical as well as the strategic\nresult, namely, the advantage of ground, sudden attack, attack from\nseveral directions (converging form of attack), the assistance of the\ntheatre of war, support of the people, and the utilising great moral\nforces. We think it useful now to cast again a glance over the extent\nof the means which are at command of the defensive in particular, and\nwhich are to be regarded as the columns of the different orders of\narchitecture in his edifice.\n\n1.\u2014Landwehr (Militia).\n\n\nThis force has been used in modern times to combat the enemy on foreign\nsoil; and it is not to be denied that its organisation in many states,\nfor instance in Prussia, is of such a kind, that it may almost be\nregarded as part of the standing army, therefore it does not belong to\nthe defensive exclusively. At the same time, we must not overlook the\nfact, that the very great use made of it in 1813-14-15 was the result\nof defensive war; that it is organised in very few places to the same\ndegree as in Prussia, and that always when its organisation falls below\nthe level of complete efficiency, it is better suited for the defensive\nthan for the offensive. But besides that, there always lies in the idea\nof a militia the notion of a very extensive more or less voluntary\nco-operation of the whole mass of the people in support of the war,\nwith all their physical powers, as well as with their feelings, and a\nready sacrifice of all they possess. The more its organisation deviates\nfrom this, so much the more the force thus created will become a\nstanding army under another name, and the more it will have the\nadvantages of such a force; but it will also lose in proportion the\nadvantages which belong properly to the militia, those of being a\nforce, the limits of which are undefined, and capable of being easily\nincreased by appealing to the feelings and patriotism of the people. In\nthese things lies the essence of a militia; in its organisation,\nlatitude must be allowed for this co-operation of the whole people; if\nwe seek to obtain something extraordinary from a militia, we are only\nfollowing a shadow.\n\nBut now the close relationship between this essence of a militia\nsystem, and the conception of the defensive, is not to be denied,\nneither can it be denied that such a militia will always belong more to\nthe defensive form than to the offensive, and that it will manifest\nchiefly in the defensive, those effects through which it surpasses the\nattack.\n\n2.\u2014Fortresses.\n\n\nThe assistance afforded by fortresses to the offensive does not extend\nbeyond what is given by those close upon the frontiers, and is only\nfeeble in influence; the assistance which the defensive can derive from\nthis reaches further into the heart of the country, and therefore more\nof them can be brought into use, and their utility itself differs in\nthe degree of its intensity. A fortress which is made the object of a\nregular siege, and holds out, is naturally of more considerable weight\nin the scales of war, than one which by the strength of its works\nmerely forbids the idea of its capture, and therefore neither occupies\nnor consumes any of the enemy\u2019s forces.\n\n3.\u2014The People.\n\n\nAlthough the influence of a single inhabitant of the theatre of war on\nthe course of the war in most cases is not more perceptible than the\nco-operation of a drop of water in a whole river, still even in cases\nwhere there is no such thing as a general rising of the people, the\n_total influence_ of the inhabitants of a country in war is anything\nbut imperceptible. Every thing goes on easier in our own country,\nprovided it is not opposed by the general feeling of the population.\nAll contributions great and small, are only yielded to the enemy under\nthe compulsion of direct force; that operation must be undertaken by\nthe troops, and cost the employment of many men as well as great\nexertions. The defensive receives all he wants, if not always\nvoluntarily, as in cases of enthusiastic devotion, still through the\nlong-used channels of submission to the state on the part of the\ncitizens, which has become second nature, and which besides that, is\nenforced by the terrors of the law with which the army has nothing to\ndo. But the spontaneous co-operation of the people proceeding from true\nattachment is in all cases most important, as it never fails in all\nthose points where service can be rendered without any sacrifice. We\nshall only notice one point, which is of the highest importance in war,\nthat is _intelligence_, not so much special, great and important\ninformation through persons employed, as that respecting the\ninnumerable little matters in connection with which the daily service\nof an army is carried on in uncertainty, and with regard to which a\ngood understanding with the inhabitants gives the defensive a general\nadvantage.\n\nIf we ascend from this quite general and never failing beneficial\ninfluence, up to special cases in which the populace begins to take\npart in the war, and then further up to the highest degree, where as in\nSpain, the war, as regards its leading events is chiefly a war carried\non by the people themselves, we may see that we have here virtually a\nnew power rather than a manifestation of increased cooperation on the\npart of the people, and therefore that\u2014\n\n4.\u2014The National Armament,\n\n\nor general call to arms, may be considered as a particular means of\ndefence.\n\n5.\u2014Allies.\n\n\nFinally, we may further reckon _allies_ as the last support of the\ndefensive. Naturally we do not mean ordinary allies, which the\nassailant may likewise have; we speak of those _essentially interested\nin maintaining_ the integrity of the country. If for instance we look\nat the various states composing Europe at the present time, we find\n(without speaking of a systematically regulated balance of power and\ninterests, as that does not exist, and therefore is often with justice\ndisputed, still, unquestionably) that the great and small states and\ninterests of nations are interwoven with each other in a most\ndiversified and changeable manner, each of these points of intersection\nforms a binding knot, for in it the direction of the one gives\nequilibrium to the direction of the other; by all these knots\ntherefore, evidently a more or less compact connection of the whole\nwill be formed, and this general connection must be partially\noverturned by every change. In this manner the whole relations of all\nstates to each other serve rather to preserve the stability of the\nwhole than to produce changes, that is to say, _this tendency_ to\nstability exists in general.\n\nThis we conceive to be the true notion of a balance of power, and in\nthis sense it will always of itself come into existence, wherever there\nare extensive connections between civilised states.\n\nHow far this tendency of the general interests to the maintenance of\nthe existing state of things is efficient is another question; at all\nevents we can conceive some changes in the relations of single states\nto each other, which promote this efficiency of the whole, and others\nwhich obstruct it. In the first case they are efforts to perfect the\npolitical balance, and as these have the same tendency as the universal\ninterests, they will also be supported by the majority of these\ninterests. But in the other case, they are of an abnormal nature, undue\nactivity on the part of some single states, real maladies; still that\nthese should make their appearance in a whole with so little cohesion\nas an assemblage of great and little states is not to be wondered at,\nfor we see the same in that marvellously organised whole, the natural\nworld.\n\nIf in answer we are reminded of instances in history where single\nstates have effected important changes, solely for their own benefit,\nwithout any effort on the part of the whole to prevent the same, or\ncases where a single state has been able to raise itself so much above\nothers as to become almost the arbiter of the whole,\u2014then our answer is\nthat these examples by no means prove that a tendency of the interests\nof the whole in favour of stability does not exist, they only show that\nits action was not powerful enough at the moment. The effort towards an\nobject is a different thing from the motion towards it. At the same\ntime it is anything but a nullity, of which we have the best\nexemplification in the dynamics of the heavens.\n\nWe say, the tendency of equilibrium is to the maintenance of the\nexisting state, whereby we certainly assume that rest, that is\nequilibrium, existed in this state; for where that has been already\ndisturbed, tension has already commenced, and there the equilibrium may\ncertainly also tend to a change. But if we look to the nature of the\nthing, this change can only affect some few separate states, never the\nmajority, and therefore it is certain that the preservation of the\nlatter is supported and secured through the collective interests of the\nwhole\u2014certain also that each single state which has not against it a\ntension of the whole will have more interest in favour of its defence\nthan opposition to it.\n\nWhoever laughs at these reflections as utopian dreams, does so at the\nexpense of philosophical truth. Although we may learn from it the\nrelations which the essential elements of things bear to each other, it\nwould be rash to attempt to deduce laws from the same by which each\nindividual case should be governed without regard to any accidental\ndisturbing influences. But when a person, in the words of a great\nwriter, \u201c_never rises above anecdote_,\u201d builds all history on it,\nbegins always with the most individual points, with the climaxes of\nevents, and only goes down just so deep as he finds a motive for doing,\nand therefore never reaches to the lowest foundation of the predominant\ngeneral relations, his opinion will never have any value beyond the one\ncase, and to him, that which philosophy proves to be applicable to\ncases in general, will only appear a dream.\n\nWithout that general striving for rest and the maintenance of the\nexisting condition of things, a number of civilised states could not\nlong live quietly side by side; they must necessarily become fused into\none. Therefore, as Europe has existed in its present state for more\nthan a thousand years, we can only regard the fact as a result of that\ntendency of the collective interests; and if the protection afforded by\nthe whole has not in every instance proved strong enough to preserve\nthe independence of each individual state, such exceptions are to be\nregarded as irregularities in the life of the whole, which have not\ndestroyed that life, but have themselves been mastered by it.\n\nIt would be superfluous to go over the mass of events in which changes\nwhich would have disturbed the balance too much have been prevented or\nreversed by the opposition more or less openly declared of other\nstates. They will be seen by the most cursory glance at history. We\nonly wish to say a few words about a case which is always on the lips\nof those who ridicule the idea of a political balance, and because it\nappears specially applicable here as a case in which an unoffending\nstate, acting on the defensive, succumbed without receiving any foreign\naid. We allude to Poland. That a state of eight millions of inhabitants\nshould disappear, should be divided amongst three others without a\nsword being drawn by any of the rest of the European states, appears,\nat first sight, a fact which either proves conclusively the general\ninefficiency of the political balance, or at least shows that it is\ninefficient to a very great extent in some instances. That a state of\nsuch extent should disappear, a prey to others, and those already the\nmost powerful (Russia and Austria), appears such a very extreme case\nthat it will be said, if an event of this description could not rouse\nthe collective interests of all free states, then the efficient action\nwhich this collective interest should display for the benefit of\nindividual states is imaginary. But we still maintain that a single\ncase, however striking, does not negative the general truth, and we\nassert next that the downfall of Poland is also not so unaccountable as\nmay at first sight appear. Was Poland really to be regarded as a\nEuropean state, as a homogeneous member of the community of nations in\nEurope? No! It was a Tartar state, which instead of being located, like\nthe Tartars of the Crimea, on the Black Sea, on the confines of the\nterritory inhabited by the European community, had its habitation in\nthe midst of that community on the Vistula. We neither desire by this\nto speak disrespectfully of the Poles, nor to justify the partition of\ntheir country, but only to look at things as they really are. For a\nhundred years this country had ceased to play any independent part in\nEuropean politics, and had been only an apple of discord for the\nothers. It was impossible that for a continuance it could maintain\nitself amongst the others with its state and constitution unaltered: an\nessential alteration in its Tartar nature would have been the work of\nnot less than half, perhaps a whole century, supposing the chief men of\nthat nation had been in favour of it. But these men were far too\nthorough Tartars to wish any such change. Their turbulent political\ncondition, and their unbounded levity went hand in hand, and so they\ntumbled into the abyss. Long before the partition of Poland the\nRussians had become quite at home there, the idea of its being an\nindependent state, with boundaries of its own, had ceased, and nothing\nis more certain than that Poland, if it had not been partitioned, must\nhave become a Russian province. If this had not been so, and if Poland\nhad been a state capable of making a defence, the three powers would\nnot so readily have proceeded to its partition, and those powers most\ninterested in maintaining its integrity, like France, Sweden and\nTurkey, would have been able to co-operate in a very different manner\ntowards its preservation. But if the maintenance of a state is entirely\ndependent on external support, then certainly too much is asked.\n\nThe partition of Poland had been talked of frequently for a hundred\nyears, and for that time the country had been not like a private house,\nbut like a public road, on which foreign armies were constantly\njostling one another. Was it the business of other states to put a stop\nto this; were they constantly to keep the sword drawn to preserve the\npolitical inviolability of the Polish frontier? That would have been to\ndemand a moral impossibility. Poland was at this time politically\nlittle better than an uninhabited steppe; and as it is impossible that\ndefenceless steppes, lying in the midst of other countries should be\nguarded for ever from invasion, therefore it was impossible to preserve\nthe integrity of this state, as it was called. For all these reasons\nthere is as little to cause wonder in the noiseless downfall of Poland\nas in the silent conquest of the Crimean Tartars; the Turks had a\ngreater interest in upholding the latter than any European state had in\npreserving the independence of Poland, but they saw that it would be a\nvain effort to try to protect a defenceless steppe.\u2014\n\nWe return to our subject, and think we have proved that the defensive\nin general may count more on foreign aid than the offensive; he may\nreckon the more certainly on it in proportion as his existence is of\nimportance to others, that is to say, the sounder and more vigorous his\npolitical and military condition.\n\nOf course the subjects which have been here enumerated as means\nproperly belonging to the defensive will not be at the command of each\nparticular defensive. Sometimes one, sometimes another, may be wanting;\nbut they all belong to the idea of the defensive as a whole.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Mutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence\n\nWe shall now consider attack and defence separately, as far as they can\nbe separated from each other. We commence with the defensive for the\nfollowing reasons:\u2014It is certainly very natural and necessary to base\nthe rules for the defence upon those of the offensive, and _vice\nvers\u00e2;_ but one of the two must still have a third point of departure,\nif the whole chain of ideas is to have a beginning, that is, to be\npossible. The first question concerns this point.\n\nIf we reflect upon the commencement of war philosophically, the\nconception of war properly does not originate with the _offensive_, as\nthat form has for its absolute object, not so much _fighting_ as the\n_taking possession of something._ The idea of war arises first by the\n_defensive_, for that form has the battle for its direct object, as\nwarding off and fighting plainly are one and the same. The warding off\nis directed entirely against the attack; therefore supposes it,\nnecessarily; but the attack is not directed against the warding off; it\nis directed upon something else\u2014the _taking possession;_ consequently\ndoes not presuppose the warding off. It lies, therefore, in the nature\nof things, that the party who first brings the element of war into\naction, the party from whose point of view two opposite parties are\nfirst conceived, also establishes the first laws of war, and that party\nis the _defender_. We are not speaking of any individual case; we are\nonly dealing with a general, an abstract case, which theory imagines in\norder to determine the course it is to take.\n\nBy this we now know where to look for this fixed point, outside and\nindependent of the reciprocal effect of attack and defence, and that it\nis in the defensive.\n\nIf this is a logical consequence, the defensive must have motives of\naction, even when as yet he knows nothing of the intentions of the\noffensive; and these motives of action must determine the organisation\nof the means of fighting. On the other hand, as long as the offensive\nknows nothing of the plans of his adversary, there are no motives of\naction for him, no grounds for the application of his military means.\nHe can do nothing more than take these means along with him, that is,\ntake possession by means of his army. And thus it is also in point of\nfact; for to carry about the apparatus of war is not to use it; and the\noffensive who takes such things with him, on the quite general\nsupposition that he may require to use them, and who, instead of taking\npossession of a country by official functionaries and proclamations,\ndoes so with an army, has not as yet committed, properly speaking, any\nact of warfare; but the defensive who both collects his apparatus of\nwar, and disposes of it with a view to fighting, is the first to\nexercise an act which really accords with the conception of war.\n\nThe second question is now: what is theoretically the nature of the\nmotives which must arise in the mind of the defensive first, before the\nattack itself is thought of? Plainly the advance made with a view to\ntaking possession, which we have imagined extraneous to the war, but\nwhich is the foundation of the opening chapter. The defence is to\noppose this advance; therefore in idea we must connect this advance\nwith the land (country); and thus arise the first most general measures\nof the defensive. When these are once established, then upon them the\napplication of the offensive is founded, and from a consideration of\nthe means which the offensive then applies, new principles again of\ndefence are derived. Now here is the reciprocal effect which theory can\nfollow in its inquiry, as long as it finds the fresh results which are\nproduced are worth examination.\n\nThis little analysis was necessary in order to give more clearness and\nstability to what follows, such as it is; it is not made for the field\nof battle, neither is it for the generals of the future; it is only for\nthe army of theorists, who have made a great deal too light of the\nsubject hitherto.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Methods of Resistance\n\nThe conception of the defence is warding off; in this warding off lies\nthe state of expectance, and this state of expectance we have taken as\nthe chief characteristic of the defence, and at the same time as its\nprincipal advantage.\n\nBut as the defensive in war cannot be a state of endurance, therefore\nthis state of expectation is only a relative, not an absolute state;\nthe subjects with which this waiting for is connected are, as regards\nspace, either the country, or the theatre of war, or the position, and,\nas regards time, the war, the campaign, or the battle. That these\nsubjects are no immutable units, but only the centres of certain\nlimited regions, which run into one another and are blended together,\nwe know; but in practical life we must often be contented only to group\nthings together, not rigidly to separate them; and these conceptions\nhave, in the real world itself, sufficient distinctness to be made use\nof as centres round which we may group other ideas.\n\nA defence of the country, therefore, only waits for attack on the\ncountry; a defence of a theatre of war an attack on the theatre of war;\nand the defence of a position the attack of that position. Every\npositive, and consequently more or less offensive, kind of action which\nthe defensive uses after the above period of waiting for, does not\nnegative the idea of the continuance of the defensive; for the state of\nexpectation, which is the chief sign of the same, and its chief\nadvantage, has been realised.\n\nThe conception of war, campaign, and battle, in relation to time, are\ncoupled respectively with the ideas of country, theatre of war, and\nposition, and on that account they have the same relations to the\npresent subject.\n\nThe defensive consists, therefore, of two heterogeneous parts, the\nstate of expectancy and that of action. By having referred the first to\na definite subject, and therefore given it precedence of action, we\nhave made it possible to connect the two into one whole. But an act of\nthe defensive, especially a considerable one, such as a campaign or a\nwhole war, does not, as regards time, consist of two great halves, the\nfirst the state of mere expectation, the second entirely of a state of\naction; it is a state of alternation between the two, in which the\nstate of expectation can be traced through the whole act of the\ndefensive like a continuous thread.\n\nWe give to this state of expectation so much importance simply because\nit is demanded by the nature of the thing. In preceding theories of war\nit has certainly never been brought forward as an independent\nconception, but in reality it has always served as a guide, although\noften unobserved. It is such a fundamental part of the whole act of\nwar, that the one without the other appears almost impossible; and we\nshall therefore often have occasion to recur to it hereafter by calling\nattention to its effects in the dynamic action of the powers called\ninto play.\n\nFor the present we shall employ ourselves in explaining how the\nprinciple of the state of expectation runs through the act of defence,\nand what are the successive stages in the defence itself which have\ntheir origin in this state.\n\nIn order to establish our ideas on subjects of a more simple kind, we\nshall defer the defence of a country, a subject on which a very great\ndiversity of political influences exercises a powerful effect, until we\ncome to the Book on the Plan of War; and as on the other hand, the\ndefensive act in a position or in a battle is matter of tactics, which\nonly forms a starting point for strategic action as a _whole_, we shall\ntake the defence of a _theatre, of war_ as being the subject, in which\nwe can best show the relations of the defensive.\n\nWe have said, that the state of expectation and of action\u2014which last is\nalways a counterstroke, therefore a reaction\u2014are both essential parts\nof the defensive; for without the first, there would be no defensive,\nwithout the second no war. This view led us before to the idea of the\ndefensive being nothing but the _stronger form of war, in order the\nmore certainly to conquer the enemy;_ this idea we must adhere to\nthroughout, partly because it alone saves us in the end from absurdity,\npartly, because the more vividly it is impressed on the mind, so much\nthe greater is the energy it imparts to the whole act of the defensive.\n\nIf therefore we should make a distinction between the reaction,\nconstituting the second element of the defensive, and the other element\nwhich consists in reality in the repulse only of the enemy;\u2014if we\nshould look at expulsion from the country, from the theatre of war, in\nsuch a light as to see in it alone the _necessary thing_ by itself, the\nultimate object beyond the attainment of which our efforts should not\nbe carried, and on the other hand, regard the possibility of a reaction\ncarried still further, and _passing into the real strategic attack_, as\na subject foreign to and of no consequence to the defence,\u2014such a view\nwould be _in opposition to_ the nature of the idea above represented,\nand therefore we cannot look upon this distinction as really existing,\nand we must adhere to our assertion, that the idea of _revenge_ must\nalways be at the bottom of every defensive; for otherwise, however much\ndamage might be occasioned to the enemy, by a successful issue of the\nfirst reaction, there would always be a deficiency in the necessary\nbalance of the dynamic relations of the attack and defence.\n\nWe say, then, the defensive is the more powerful form of making war, in\norder to overcome the enemy more easily, and we leave to circumstances\nto determine whether this victory over the object against which the\ndefence was commenced is sufficient or not.\n\nBut as the defensive is inseparable from the idea of the state of\nexpectation, that object, _the defeat of the enemy_, only exists\nconditionally, that is, only if the offensive takes place; and\notherwise (that is, if the offensive stroke does not follow) of course\nthe defensive is contented with the maintenance of its possessions;\nthis maintenance is therefore its object in the state of expectation,\nthat is, its immediate object; and it is only as long as it contents\nitself with this more modest end, that it preserves the advantages of\nthe stronger form of war.\n\nIf we suppose an army with its theatre of war intended for defence, the\ndefence may be made as follows:\n\n1. By attacking the enemy the moment he enters the theatre of war.\n(Mollwitz, Hohenfriedberg).\n\n2. By taking up a position close on the frontier, and waiting till the\nenemy appears with the intention of attacking it, in order then to\nattack him (Czaslau, Soor, Rosbach). Plainly this second mode of\nproceeding, partakes more of endurance, we \u201cwait for\u201d longer; and\nalthough the _time_ gained by it as compared with that gained in the\nfirst, may be very little, or none at all if the enemy\u2019s attack\nactually takes place, still, the battle which in the first case was\ncertain, is in the second much less certain, perhaps the enemy may not\nbe able to make up his mind to attack; the advantage of the \u201cwaiting\nfor,\u201d is then at once greater.\n\n3. By the army in such position not only awaiting the decision of the\nenemy to fight a battle, that is his appearance in front of the\nposition, but also waiting to be actually assaulted (in order to keep\nto the same general, Bunzelwitz). In such case, we fight a regular\ndefensive battle, which however, as we have before said, may include\noffensive movements with one or more parts of the army. Here also, as\nbefore, the gain of time does not come into consideration, but the\ndetermination of the enemy is put to a new proof; many a one has\nadvanced to the attack, and at the last moment, or after one attempt\ngiven it up, finding the position of the enemy too strong.\n\n4. By the army transferring its defence to the heart of the country.\nThe object of retreating into the interior is to cause a diminution in\nthe enemy\u2019s strength, and to wait until its effects are such that his\nforward march is of itself discontinued, or at least until the\nresistance which we can offer him at the end of his career is such as\nhe can no longer overcome.\n\nThis case is exhibited in the simplest and plainest manner, when the\ndefensive can leave one or more of his fortresses behind him, which the\noffensive is obliged to besiege or blockade. It is clear in itself, how\nmuch his forces must be weakened in this way, and what a chance there\nis of an opportunity for the defensive to attack at some point with\nsuperior forces.\n\nBut even when there are no fortresses, a retreat into the interior of\nthe country may procure by degrees for the defender that necessary\nequilibrium or that superiority which was wanting to him on the\nfrontier; for every forward movement in the strategic attack lessens\nits force, partly absolutely, partly through the separation of forces\nwhich becomes necessary, of which we shall say more under the head of\nthe \u201cAttack.\u201d We anticipate this truth here as we consider it as a fact\nsufficiently exemplified in all wars.\n\nNow in this fourth case the gain of time is to be looked upon as the\nprincipal point of all. If the assailant lays siege to our fortresses,\nwe have time till their probable fall, (which may be some weeks or in\nsome cases months); but if the weakening, that is the expenditure, of\nthe force of the attack is caused by the advance, and the garrisoning\nor occupation of certain points, therefore merely through the length of\nthe assailant\u2019s march, then the time gained in most cases becomes\ngreater, and our action is not so much restricted in point of time.\n\nBesides the altered relations between offensive and defensive in regard\nto power which is brought about at the end of this march, we must bring\ninto account in favour of the defensive an _increased_ amount of the\n_advantage_ of the state of \u201cwaiting for.\u201d Although the assailant by\nthis advance may not in reality be weakened to such a degree that he is\nunfit to attack our main body where he halts, still he will probably\nwant resolution to do so, for that is an act requiring more resolution\nin the position in which he is now placed, than would have sufficed\nwhen operations had not extended beyond the frontier: partly, because\nthe powers are weakened, and no longer in fresh vigour, while the\ndanger is increased; partly, because with an irresolute commander the\npossession of that portion of the country which has been obtained is\noften sufficient to do away with all idea of a battle, because he\neither really believes or assumes as a pretext, that it is no longer\nnecessary. By the offensive thus declining to attack, the defensive\ncertainly does not acquire, as he would on the frontier, a sufficient\nresult of a negative kind, but still there is a great gain of time.\n\nIt is plain that, in all the four methods indicated, the defensive has\nthe benefit of the ground or country, and likewise that he can by that\nmeans bring into cooperation his fortresses and the people; moreover\nthese efficient principles increase at each fresh stage of the defence,\nfor they are a chief means of bringing about the weakening of the\nenemy\u2019s force in the fourth stage. Now as the advantages of the \u201cstate\nof expectation\u201d increase in the same direction, therefore it follows of\nitself that these stages are to be regarded as a real intensifying of\nthe defence, and that this form of war always gains in strength the\nmore it differs from the offensive. We are not afraid on this account\nof any one accusing us of holding the opinion that the most passive\ndefence would therefore be the best. The action of resistance is not\nweakened at each new stage, it is only _delayed, postponed_. But the\nassertion that a stouter resistance can be offered in a strong\njudiciously entrenched position, and also that when the enemy has\nexhausted his strength in fruitless efforts against such a position a\nmore effective counterstroke may be levelled at him, is surely not\nunreasonable. Without the advantage of position Daun would not have\ngained the victory at Kollin, and as Frederick the Great only brought\noff 18,000 men from the field of battle, if Daun had pursued him with\nmore energy the victory might have been one of the most brilliant in\nmilitary history.\n\nWe therefore maintain, that at each new stage of the defensive the\npreponderance, or more correctly speaking, the counterpoise increases\nin favour of the defensive, and consequently there is also a gain in\npower for the counterstroke.\n\nNow are these advantages of the increasing force of the defensive to be\nhad for nothing? By no means, for the sacrifice with which they are\npurchased increases in the same proportion.\n\nIf we wait for the enemy within our own theatre of war, however near\nthe border of our territory the decision takes place, still this\ntheatre of war is entered by the enemy, which must entail a sacrifice\non our part; whereas, had we made the attack, this disadvantage would\nhave fallen on the enemy. If we do not proceed at once to meet the\nenemy and attack him, our loss will be the greater, and the extent of\nthe country which the enemy will overrun, as well as the time which he\nrequires to reach our position, will continually increase. If we wish\nto give battle on the defensive, and we therefore leave its\ndetermination and the choice of time for it to the enemy, then perhaps\nhe may remain for some time in occupation of the territory which he has\ntaken, and the time which through his deferred decision we are allowed\nto gain will in that manner be paid for by us. The sacrifices which\nmust be made become still more burdensome if a retreat into the heart\nof the country takes place.\n\nBut all these sacrifices on the part of the defensive, at most only\noccasion him in general a loss of power which merely diminishes his\nmilitary force _indirectly_, therefore, at a later period, and not\ndirectly, and often so indirectly that its effect is hardly felt at\nall. The defensive, therefore, strengthens himself for the present\nmoment at the expense of the future, that is to say, he borrows, as\nevery one must who is too poor for the circumstances in which he is\nplaced.\n\nNow, if we would examine the result of these different forms of\nresistance, we must look to the _object of the aggression_. This is, to\nobtain possession of our theatre of war, or, at least, of an important\npart of it, for under the conception of the whole, at least the greater\npart must be understood, as the possession of a strip of territory few\nmiles in extent is, as a rule, of no real consequence in strategy. As\nlong, therefore, as the aggressor is not in possession of this, that\nis, as long as from fear of our force he has either not yet advanced to\nthe attack of the theatre of war, or has not sought to find us in our\nposition, or has declined the combat we offer, the object of the\ndefence is fulfilled, and the effects of the measures taken for the\ndefensive have therefore been successful. At the same time this result\nis only a _negative one_, which certainly cannot directly give the\nforce for a real counterstroke. But it may give it _indirectly_, that\nis to say, it is on the way to do so; for the time which elapses _the\naggression loses_, and every loss of time is a disadvantage, and must\nweaken in some way the party who suffers the loss.\n\nTherefore in the first three stages of the defensive, that is, if it\ntakes place on the frontier, _the non-decision is already a result in\nfavour of the defensive._\n\nBut it is not so with the fourth.\n\nIf the enemy lays siege to our fortresses we must relieve them in time,\nto do this we must therefore bring about the decision by positive\naction.\n\nThis is likewise the case if the enemy follows us into the interior of\nthe country without besieging any of our places. Certainly in this case\nwe have more time; we can wait until the enemy\u2019s weakness is extreme,\nbut still it is always an indispensable condition that we are at last\nto act. The enemy is now, perhaps, in possession of the whole territory\nwhich was the object of his aggression, but it is only lent to him; the\ntension continues, and the decision is yet pending. As long as the\ndefensive is gaining strength and the aggressor daily becoming weaker,\nthe postponement of the decision is in the interest of the former: but\nas soon as the culminating point of this progressive advantage has\narrived, as it must do, were it only by the ultimate influence of the\ngeneral loss to which the offensive has exposed himself, it is time for\nthe defender to proceed to action, and bring on a solution, and the\nadvantage of the \u201cwaiting for\u201d may be considered as completely\nexhausted.\n\nThere can naturally be no point of time fixed generally at which this\nhappens, for it is determined by a multitude of circumstances and\nrelations; but it may be observed that the winter is usually a natural\nturning point. If we cannot prevent the enemy from wintering in the\nterritory which he has seized, then, as a rule, it must be looked upon\nas given up. We have only, however, to call to mind Torres Vedras, to\nsee that this is no general rule.\n\nWhat is now the solution generally?\n\nWe have always supposed it in our observations in the form of a battle;\nbut in reality, this is not necessary, for a number of combinations of\nbattles with separate corps may be imagined, which may bring about a\nchange of affairs, either because they have really ended with\nbloodshed, or because their probable result makes the retreat of the\nenemy necessary.\n\nUpon the theatre of war itself there can be no other solution; that is\na necessary consequence of our view of war; for, in fact, even if an\nenemy\u2019s army, merely from want of provisions, commences his retreat,\nstill it takes place from the state of restraint in which our sword\nholds him; if our army was not in the way he would soon be able to\nprovision his forces.\n\nTherefore, even at the end of his aggressive course, when the enemy is\nsuffering the heavy penalty of his attack, when detachments, hunger,\nand sickness have weakened and worn him out, it is still always the\ndread of our sword which causes him to turn about, and allow everything\nto go on again as usual. But nevertheless, there is a great difference\nbetween such a solution and one which takes place on the frontier.\n\nIn the latter case our arms only were opposed to his to keep him in\ncheck, or carry destruction into his ranks; but at the end of the\naggressive career the enemy\u2019s forces, by their own exertions, are half\ndestroyed, by which our arms acquire a totally different value, and\ntherefore, although they are the final they are not the only means\nwhich have produced the solution. This destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforces in the advance prepares the solution, and may do so to this\nextent, that the mere possibility of a reaction on our part may cause\nthe retreat, consequently a reversal of the situation of affairs. In\nthis case, therefore, we can practically ascribe the solution to\nnothing else than the efforts made in the advance. Now, in point of\nfact we shall find no case in which the sword of the defensive has not\nco-operated; but, for the practical view, it is important to\ndistinguish which of the two principles is the predominating one.\n\nIn this sense we think we may say that there is a double solution in\nthe defensive, consequently a double kind of reaction, according as the\naggressor is ruined by the _sword of the defensive_, or _by his own\nefforts_.\n\nThat the first kind of solution predominates in the first three steps\nof the defence, the second in the fourth, is evident in itself; and the\nlatter will, in most cases, only come to pass by the retreat being\ncarried deep into the heart of the country, and nothing but the\nprospect of that result can be a sufficient motive for such a retreat,\nconsidering the great sacrifices which it must cost.\n\nWe have, therefore, ascertained that there are two different principles\nof defence; there are cases in military history where they each appear\nas separate and distinct as it is possible for an elementary conception\nto appear in practical life. When Frederick the Great attacked the\nAustrians at Hohenfriedberg, just as they were descending from the\nSilesian mountains, their force could not have been weakened in any\nsensible manner by detachments or fatigue; when, on the other hand,\nWellington, in his entrenched camp at Torres Vedras, waited till\nhunger, and the severity of the weather, had reduced Massena\u2019s army to\nsuch extremities that they commenced to retreat of themselves, the\nsword of the defensive party had no share in the weakening of the\nenemy\u2019s army. In other cases, in which they are combined with each\nother in a variety of ways, still, one of them distinctly predominates.\nThis was the case in the year 1812. In that celebrated campaign such a\nnumber of bloody encounters took place as might, under other\ncircumstances, have sufficed for a most complete decision by the sword;\nnevertheless, there is hardly any campaign in which we can so plainly\nsee how the aggressor may be ruined by his own efforts. Of the 300,000\nmen composing the French centre only about 90,000 reached Moscow; not\nmore than 13,000 were detached; consequently there had been a loss of\n197,000 men, and certainly not a third of that loss can be put to\naccount of battles.\n\nAll campaigns which are remarkable for temporising, as it is called,\nlike those of the famous Fabius Cunctator, have been calculated chiefly\non the destruction of the enemy by his own efforts. This principle has\nbeen the leading one in many campaigns without that point being almost\never mentioned; and it is only when we disregard the specious reasoning\nof historians, and look at things clearly with our own eyes, that we\nare led to this real cause of many a solution.\n\nBy this we believe we have unravelled sufficiently those ideas which\nlie at the root of the defensive, and that in the two great kinds of\ndefence we have shown plainly and made intelligible how the principle\nof the waiting for runs through the whole system and connects itself\nwith positive action in such a manner that, sooner or later, action\ndoes take place, and that then the advantage of the attitude of waiting\nfor appears to be exhausted.\n\nWe think, now, that in this way we have gone over and brought into view\neverything comprised in the province of the defensive. At the same\ntime, there are subjects of sufficient importance in themselves to form\nseparate chapters, that is, points for consideration in themselves, and\nthese we must also study; for example, the nature and influence of\nfortified places, entrenched camps, defence of mountains and rivers,\noperations against the flank, etc., etc. We shall treat of them in\nsubsequent chapters, but none of these things lie outside of the\npreceding sequence of ideas; they are only to be regarded as a closer\napplication of it to locality and circumstances. That order of ideas\nhas been deduced from the conception of the defensive, and from its\nrelation to the offensive; we have connected these simple ideas with\nreality, and therefore shown the way by which we may return again from\nthe reality to those simple ideas, and obtain firm ground, and not be\nforced in reasoning to take refuge on points of support which\nthemselves vanish in the air.\n\nBut resistance by the sword may wear such an altered appearance, assume\nsuch a different character, through the multiplicity of ways of\ncombining battles, especially in cases where these are not actually\nrealised, but become effectual merely through their possibility, that\nwe might incline to the opinion that there must be some other efficient\nactive principle still to be discovered; between the sanguinary defeat\nin a simple battle, and the effects of strategic combinations which do\nnot bring the thing nearly so far as actual combat, there seems such a\ndifference, that it is necessary to suppose some fresh force, something\nin the same way as astronomers have decided on the existence of other\nplanets from the great space between Mars and Jupiter.\n\nIf the assailant finds the defender in a strong position which he\nthinks he cannot take, or behind a large river which he thinks he\ncannot cross, or even if he fears that by advancing further he will not\nbe able to subsist his army, in all these cases it is nothing but the\nsword of the defensive which produces the effect; for it is the fear of\nbeing conquered by this sword, either in a great battle or at some\nspecially important points, which compels the aggressor to stop, only\nhe will either not admit that at all, or does not admit it in a\nstraightforward way.\n\nNow even if it is granted that, where there has been a decision without\nbloodshed, the combat merely _offered_, but not accepted, has been the\nultimate cause of the decision, it will still be thought that in such\ncases the really effectual principle is the _strategic combination of_\nthese combats and not their tactical decision, and that this\nsuperiority of the strategic combination could only have been thought\nof because there are other defensive means which may be considered\nbesides an actual appeal to the sword. We admit this, and it brings us\njust to the point we wished to arrive at, which is as follows: if the\ntactical result of a battle must be the _foundation_ of all strategic\ncombinations, then it is always possible and to be feared that the\nassailant may lay hold of this principle, and above all things direct\nhis efforts to be superior in the hour of decision, in order to baffle\nthe strategic combination; and that therefore this strategic\ncombination can _never be regarded as something all-sufficient in\nitself;_ that it only has a value when either on one ground or another\nwe can look forward to the tactical solution without any misgivings. In\norder to make ourselves intelligible in a few words, we shall merely\ncall to our readers\u2019 recollection how such a general as Buonaparte\nmarched without hesitation through the whole web of his opponents\u2019\nstrategic plans, to seek for the battle itself, because he had no\ndoubts as to its issue. Where, therefore, strategy had not directed its\nwhole effort to ensure a preponderance over him in this battle, where\nit engaged in finer (feebler) plans, there it was rent asunder like a\ncobweb. But a general like Daun might be checked by such measures; it\nwould therefore be folly to offer Buonaparte and his army what the\nPrussian army of the Seven Years\u2019 War dared to offer Daun and his\ncontemporaries. Why?\u2014Because Buonaparte knew right well that all\ndepended on the tactical issue, and made certain of gaining it; whereas\nwith Daun it was very different in both respects.\n\n_On this account_ we hold it therefore to be serviceable to show that\nevery strategic combination rests only upon the tactical results, and\nthat these are everywhere, in the bloody as well as in the bloodless\nsolution, the real fundamental grounds of the ultimate decision. It is\nonly if we have no reason to fear that decision, whether on account of\nthe character or the situation of the enemy, or on account of the moral\nand physical equality of the two armies, or on account of our own\nsuperiority\u2014it is only then that we can expect something from strategic\ncombinations in themselves without battles.\n\nNow if a great many campaigns are to be found within the compass of\nmilitary history in which the assailant gives up the offensive without\nany blood being spilt in fight, in which, therefore, strategic\ncombinations show themselves effectual to that degree, this may lead to\nthe idea that these combinations have at least great inherent force in\nthemselves, and might in general decide the affair alone, where too\ngreat a preponderance in the tactical results is not supposed on the\nside of the aggressor. To this we answer that, if the question is about\nthings which have their origin in the theatre of war, and consequently\nbelong to the war itself, this idea is also equally false; and we add\nthat the cause of the failure of most attacks is to be found in the\nhigher, the political relations of war.\n\nThe general relations out of which a war springs, and which naturally\nconstitute its foundation, determine also its character; on this\nsubject we shall have more to say hereafter, in treating of the plan of\na war. But these general relations have converted most wars into\nhalf-and-half things, into which real hostility has to force its way\nthrough such a conflict of interests, that it is only a very weak\nelement at the last. This effect must naturally show itself chiefly and\nwith most force on the side of the offensive, _the side of positive\naction_. One cannot therefore wonder if such a short-winded,\nconsumptive attack is brought to a standstill by the touch of a finger.\nAgainst a weak resolution so fettered by a thousand considerations,\nthat it has hardly any existence, a mere show of resistance is often\nenough.\n\nIt is not the number of unassailable positions in all directions, not\nthe formidable look of the dark mountain masses encamped round the\ntheatre of war, or the broad river which passes through it, not the\nease with which certain combinations of battles can effectually\nparalyse the muscle which should strike the blow against us\u2014none of\nthese things are the true causes of the numerous successes which the\ndefensive gains on bloodless fields; the cause lies in the weakness of\nthe will with which the assailant puts forward his hesitating feet.\n\nThese counteracting influences may and ought to be taken into\nconsideration, but they should only be looked upon in their true light,\nand their effects should not be ascribed to other things, namely the\nthings of which alone we are now treating. We must not omit to point\nout in an emphatic manner how easily military history in this respect\nmay become a perpetual liar and deceiver if criticism is not careful\nabout taking a correct point of view.\n\nLet us now consider, in what we may call their ordinary form, the many\noffensive campaigns which have miscarried without a bloody solution.\n\nThe assailant advances into the enemy\u2019s country, drives back his\nopponent a little way, but finds it too serious a matter to bring on a\ndecisive battle. He therefore remains standing opposite to him; acts as\nif he had made a conquest, and had nothing else to do but to protect\nit; as if it was the enemy\u2019s business to seek the battle, as if he\noffered it to him daily, etc., etc. These are the _representations_\nwith which the commander deludes his army, his government, the world,\neven himself. But the truth is, that he finds the enemy in a position\ntoo strong for him. We do not now speak of a case where an aggressor\ndoes not proceed with his attack because he can make no use of a\nvictory, because at the end of his first bound he has not enough\nimpulsive force left to begin another. Such a case supposes an attack\nwhich has been successful, a real conquest; but we have here in view\nthe case where an assailant sticks fast half way to his intended\nconquest.\n\nHe is now waiting to take advantage of favourable circumstances, of\nwhich favourable circumstances there is in general no prospect, for the\naggression now intended shows at once that there is no better prospect\nfrom the future than from the present; it is, therefore, a further\nillusion. If now, as is commonly the case, the undertaking is in\nconnection with other simultaneous operations, then what they do not\nwant to do themselves is transferred to other shoulders, and their own\ninactivity is ascribed to want of support and proper co-operation.\nInsurmountable obstacles are talked of, and motives in justification\nare discovered in the most confused and subtil considerations. Thus the\nforces of the assailant are wasted away in inactivity, or rather in a\npartial activity, destitute of any utility. The defensive gains time,\nthe greatest gain to him; bad weather arrives, and the aggression ends\nby the return of the aggressor to winter quarters in his own theatre of\nwar.\n\nA tissue of false representations thus passes into history in place of\nthe simple real ground of absence of any result, namely _fear of the\nenemy\u2019s sword_. When criticism takes up such a campaign, it wearies\nitself in the discussion of a number of motives and counter-motives,\nwhich give no satisfactory result, because they all dwindle into\nvapour, and we have not descended to the real foundation of the truth.\nThe opposition through which the elementary energy of war, and\ntherefore of the offensive in particular, becomes weakened, lies for\nthe most part in the relations and views of states, and these are\nalways concealed from the world, from the mass of the people belonging\nto the state, as well as from the army, and very often from the\ngeneral-in-chief. No one will account for his faint-heartedness by the\nadmission that he feared he could not attain the desired object with\nthe force at his disposal, or that new enemies would be roused, or that\nhe did not wish to make his allies too powerful, etc. Such things are\nhushed up; but as occurrences have to be placed before the world in a\npresentable form, therefore the commander is obliged, either on his own\naccount or on that of his government to pass off a tissue of fictitious\nmotives. This ever-recurring deception in military dialectics has\nossified into systems in theory, which, of course, are equally devoid\nof truth. Theory can never be deduced from the essence of things except\nby following the simple thread of cause and effect, as we have tried to\ndo.\n\nIf we look at military history with this feeling of suspicion, then a\ngreat parade of mere words about offensive and defensive collapses, and\nthe simple idea of it, which we have given, comes forward of itself. We\nbelieve it therefore to be applicable to the whole domain of the\ndefensive, and that we must adhere closely to it in order to obtain\nthat clear view of the mass of events by which alone we can form\ncorrect judgments.\n\nWe have still to inquire into the question of the employment of these\ndifferent forms of defence.\n\nAs they are merely gradations of the same which must be purchased by a\nhigher sacrifice, corresponding to the increased intensity of the form,\nthere would seem to be sufficient in that view to indicate always to\nthe general which he should choose, provided there are no other\ncircumstances which interfere. He would, in fact, choose that form\nwhich appeared sufficient to give his force the requisite degree of\ndefensive power and no more, that there might be no unnecessary waste\nof his force. But we must not overlook the circumstance that the room\ngiven for choice amongst these different forms is generally very\ncircumscribed, because other circumstances which must be attended to\nnecessarily urge a preference for one or other of them. For a retreat\ninto the interior of the country a considerable superficial space is\nrequired, or such a condition of things as existed in Portugal (1810),\nwhere one ally (England) gave support in rear, and another (Spain) with\nits wide territory, considerably diminished the impulsive force of the\nenemy. The position of the fortresses more on the frontier or more in\nthe interior may likewise decide for or against such a plan; but still\nmore the nature of the country and ground, the character, habits, and\nfeelings of the inhabitants. The choice between an offensive or\ndefensive battle may be decided by the plans of the enemy, by the\npeculiar qualities of both armies and their generals; lastly, the\npossession of an excellent position or line of defence, or the want of\nthem may determine for one or the other;\u2014in short, at the bare mention\nof these things, we can perceive that the choice of the form of\ndefensive must in many cases be determined more by them than by the\nmere relative strength of the armies. As we shall hereafter enter more\ninto detail on the more important subjects which have just been touched\nupon, the influence which they must have upon the choice will then\ndevelop itself more distinctly, and in the end the whole will be\nmethodised in the Book on Plans of Wars and Campaigns.\n\nBut this influence will not, in general, be decisive unless the\ninequality in the strength of the opposing armies is trifling; in the\nopposite case (as in the generality of cases), the relation of the\nnumerical strength will be decisive. There is ample proof, in military\nhistory, that it has done so heretofore, and that without the chain of\nreasoning by which it has been brought out here; therefore in a manner\nintuitively by _mere tact of judgment_, like most things that happen in\nwar. It was the same general who at the head of the same army, and on\nthe same theatre of war, fought the battle of Hohenfriedberg, and at\nanother time took up the camp of Bunzelwitz. Therefore even Frederick\nthe Great, a general above all inclined to the offensive as regards the\nbattle, saw himself compelled at last, by a great disproportion of\nforce, to resort to a real defensive position; and Buonaparte, who was\nonce in the habit of falling on his enemy like a wild boar, have we not\nseen him, when the proportion of force turned against him, in August\nand September, 1813, turn himself hither and thither as if he had been\npent up in a cage, instead of rushing forward recklessly upon some one\nof his adversaries? And in October of the same year, when the\ndisproportion reached its climax, have we not seen him at Leipsic,\nseeking shelter in the angle formed by the Parth, the Elster, and\nPleiss, as it were waiting for his enemy in the corner of a room, with\nhis back against the wall?\n\nWe cannot omit to observe, that from this chapter, more than from any\nother in our book, it is plainly shown that our object is not to lay\ndown new principles and methods of conducting war, but merely to\ninvestigate what has long existed in its innermost relations, and to\nreduce it to its simplest elements.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. Defensive Battle\n\nWe have said, in the preceding chapter, that the defender, in his\ndefensive, would make use of a battle, technically speaking, of a\npurely offensive character, if, at the moment the enemy invades his\ntheatre of war, he marches against him and attacks him; but that he\nmight also wait for the appearance of the enemy in his front, and then\npass over to the attack; in which case also the battle tactically would\nbe again an offensive battle, although in a modified form; and lastly,\nthat he might wait till the enemy attacked his position, and then\noppose him both by holding a particular spot, and by offensive action\nwith portions of his force. In all this we may imagine several\ndifferent gradations and shades, deviating always more from the\nprinciple of a positive counterstroke, and passing into that of the\ndefence of a spot of ground. We cannot here enter on the subject of how\nfar this should be carried, and which is the most advantageous\nproportion of the two elements of offensive and defensive, as regards\nthe winning a decisive victory. But we maintain that when such a result\nis desired, the offensive part of the battle should never be completely\nomitted, and we are convinced that all the effects of a decisive\nvictory may and must be produced by this offensive part, just as well\nas in a purely tactical offensive battle.\n\nIn the same manner as the field of battle is only a point in strategy,\nthe duration of a battle is only, strategically, an instant of time,\nand the end and result, not the course of a battle, constitutes a\nstrategic quantity.\n\nNow, if it is true that a complete victory may result from the\noffensive elements which lie in every defensive battle, then there\nwould be no fundamental difference between an offensive and a defensive\nbattle, as far as regards strategic combinations; we are indeed\nconvinced that this is so, but the thing wears a different appearance.\nIn order to fix the subject more distinctly in the eye, to make our\nview clear and thereby remove the appearance now referred to, we shall\nsketch, hastily, the picture of a defensive battle, such as we imagine\nit.\n\nThe defensive waits the attack in a position; for this he has selected\nproper ground, and turned it to the best account, that is, he has made\nhimself well acquainted with the locality, thrown up strong\nentrenchments at some of the most important points, opened and levelled\ncommunications, constructed batteries, fortified villages, and looked\nout places where he can draw up his masses under cover, etc., etc.,\netc. Whilst the forces on both sides are consuming each other at the\ndifferent points where they come into contact, the advantage of a front\nmore or less strong, the approach to which is made difficult by one or\nmore parallel trenches or other obstacles, or also by the influence of\nsome strong commanding points, enables him with a _small part of his\nforce_ to destroy _great numbers of the enemy_ at every stage of the\ndefence up to the heart of the position. The points of support which he\nhas given his wings secure him from any sudden attack from several\nquarters; the covered ground which he has chosen for his masses makes\nthe enemy cautious, indeed timid, and affords the defensive the means\nof diminishing by partial and successful attacks the general backward\nmovement which goes on as the combat becomes gradually concentrated\nwithin narrower limits. The defender therefore casts a contented look\nat the battle as it burns in a moderate blaze before him;\u2014but he does\nnot reckon that his resistance in front can last for ever;\u2014he does not\nthink his flanks impregnable;\u2014he does not expect that the whole course\nof the battle will be changed by the successful charge of a few\nbattalions or squadrons. His position is _deep_, for each part in the\nscale of gradation of the order of battle, from the division down to\nthe battalion, has its reserve for unforeseen events, and for a renewal\nof the fight; and at the same time an important mass, one fifth to a\nquarter of the whole, is kept quite in the rear out of the battle, so\nfar back as to be quite out of fire, and if possible so far as to be\nbeyond the circuitous line by which the enemy might attempt to turn\neither flank. With this corps he intends to cover his flanks from wider\nand greater turning movements, secure himself against unforeseen\nevents, and in the latter stage of the battle, when the assailant\u2019s\nplan is fully developed, when the most of his troops have been brought\ninto action, he will throw this mass on a part of the enemy\u2019s army, and\nopen at that part of the field a smaller offensive battle on his own\npart, using all the elements of attack, such as charges, surprise,\nturning movements, and by means of this pressure against the centre of\ngravity of the battle, now only resting on a point, make the whole\nrecoil.\n\nThis is the normal idea which we have formed of a defensive battle,\nbased on the tactics of the present day. In this battle the general\nturning movement made by the assailant in order to assist his attack,\nand at the same time with a view to make the results of victory more\ncomplete, is replied to by a partial turning movement on the part of\nthe defensive, that is, by the turning of that part of the assailant\u2019s\nforce used by him in the attempt to turn. This partial movement may be\nsupposed sufficient to destroy the effect of the enemy\u2019s attempt, but\nit cannot lead to a like general enveloping of the assailant\u2019s army;\nand there will always be a distinction in the features of a victory on\nthis account, that the side fighting an offensive battle encircles the\nenemy\u2019s army, and acts towards the centre of the same, while the side\nfighting on the defensive acts more or less from the centre to the\ncircumference, in the direction of the radii.\n\nOn the field of battle itself, and in the first stages of the pursuit,\nthe enveloping form must always be considered the most effectual; we do\nnot mean on account of its form generally, we only mean in the event of\nits being carried out to such an extreme as to limit very much the\nenemy\u2019s means of retreat during the battle. But it is just against this\nextreme point that the enemy\u2019s positive counter-effort is directed, and\nin many cases where this effort is not sufficient to obtain a victory,\nit will at least suffice to protect him from such an extreme as we\nallude to. But we must always admit that this danger, namely, of having\nthe line of retreat seriously contracted, is particularly great in\ndefensive battles, and if it cannot be guarded against, the results in\nthe battle itself, and in the first stage of the retreat are thereby\nvery much enhanced in favour of the enemy.\n\nBut as a rule this danger does not extend beyond the first stage of the\nretreat, that is, until night-fall; on the following day enveloping is\nat an end, and both parties are again on an equality in this respect.\n\nCertainly the defender may have lost his principal line of retreat, and\ntherefore be placed in a disadvantageous strategic situation for the\nfuture; but in most cases the turning movement itself will be at an\nend, because it was only planned to suit the field of battle, and\ntherefore cannot apply much further. But what will take place, on the\nother hand, if the _defender_ is victorious? A division of the defeated\nforce. This may facilitate the retreat at the first moment, but _next\nday a concentration of all parts_ is the one thing most needful. Now if\nthe victory is a most decisive one, if the defender pursues with great\nenergy, this concentration will often become impossible, and from this\nseparation of the beaten force the worst consequences may follow, which\nmay go on step by step to a complete rout. If Buonaparte had conquered\nat Leipsic, the allied army would have been completely cut in two,\nwhich would have considerably lowered their relative strategic\nposition. At Dresden, although Buonaparte certainly did not fight a\nregular defensive battle, the attack had the geometrical form of which\nwe have been speaking, that is, from the centre to the circumference;\nthe embarrassment of the Allies in consequence of their separation, is\nwell known, an embarrassment from which they were only relieved by the\nvictory on the Katzbach, the tidings of which caused Buonaparte to\nreturn to Dresden with the Guard.\n\nThis battle on the Katzbach itself is a similar example. In it the\ndefender, at the last moment passes over to the offensive, and\nconsequently operates on diverging lines; the French corps were thus\nwedged asunder, and several days after, as the fruits of the victory,\nPuthod\u2019s division fell into the hands of the Allies.\n\nThe conclusion we draw from this is, that if the assailant, by the\nconcentric form which is homogeneous to him, has the means of giving\nexpansion to his victory, on the other hand the defender also, by the\ndivergent form which is homogeneous to the defence, acquires a a means\nof giving greater results to his victory than would be the case by a\nmerely parallel position and perpendicular attack, and we think that\none means is at least as good as the other.\n\nIf in military history we rarely find such great victories resulting\nfrom the defensive battle as from the offensive, that proves nothing\nagainst our assertion that the one is as well suited to produce victory\nas the other; the real cause is in the very different relations of the\ndefender. The army acting on the defensive is generally the weaker of\nthe two, not only in the amount of his forces, but also in every other\nrespect; he either is, or thinks he is, not in a condition to follow up\nhis victory with great results, and contents himself with merely\nfending off the danger and saving the honour of his arms. That the\ndefender by inferiority of force and other circumstances may be tied\ndown to that degree we do not dispute, but there is no doubt that this,\nwhich is only the consequence of a contingent necessity, has often been\nassumed to be the consequence of that part which every defender has to\nplay: and thus in an absurd manner it has become a prevalent view of\nthe defensive that its battles should really be confined to warding off\nthe attacks of the enemy, and not directed to the destruction of the\nenemy. We hold this to be a prejudicial error, a regular substitution\nof the form for the thing itself; and we maintain unreservedly that in\nthe form of war which we call _defence_, the victory may not only be\nmore probable, but may also attain the same magnitude and efficacy as\nin the attack, and that this may be the case not only in the _total\nresult_ of all the combats which constitute campaign, but also in any\n_particular_ battle, if the necessary degree of force and energy is not\nwanting.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Fortresses\n\nFormerly, and up to the time of great standing armies, fortresses, that\nis castles and fortified towns, were only built for the defence and\nprotection of the inhabitants. The baron, if he saw himself pressed on\nall sides, took refuge in his castle to gain time and wait a more\nfavourable moment; and towns sought by their walls to keep off the\npassing hurricane of war. This simplest and most natural object of\nfortresses did not continue to be the only one; the relation which such\na place acquired with regard to the whole country and to troops acting\nhere and there in the country soon gave these fortified points a wider\nimportance, a signification which made itself felt beyond their walls,\nand contributed essentially to the conquest or occupation of the\ncountry, to the successful or unsuccessful issue of the whole contest,\nand in this manner they even became a means of making war more of a\nconnected whole. Thus fortresses acquired that strategic significance\nwhich for a time was regarded as so important that it dictated the\nleading features of the plans of campaigns, which were more directed to\nthe taking of one or more fortresses than the destruction of the\nenemy\u2019s army in the field. Men reverted to the cause of the importance\nof these places, that is to the connection between a fortified point,\nand the country, and the armies; and then thought that they could not\nbe sufficiently particular or too philosophical in choosing the points\nto be fortified. In these abstract objects the original one was almost\nlost sight of, and at length they came to the idea of fortresses\nwithout either towns or inhabitants.\n\nOn the other hand, the times are past in which the mere enclosure of a\nplace with walls, without any military preparations, could keep a place\ndry during an inundation of war sweeping over the whole country. Such a\npossibility rested partly on the division of nations formerly into\nsmall states, partly on the periodical character of the incursions then\nin vogue, which had fixed and very limited duration, almost in\naccordance with the seasons, as either the feudal forces hastened home,\nor the pay for the condottieri used regularly to run short. Since large\nstanding armies, with powerful trains of artillery mow down the\nopposition of walls or ramparts as it were with a machine, neither town\nnor other small corporation has any longer an inclination to hazard all\ntheir means only to be taken a few weeks or months later, and then to\nbe treated so much the worse. Still less can it be the interest of an\narmy to break itself up into garrisons for a number of strong places,\nwhich may for a time retard the progress of the enemy, but must in the\nend submit. We must always keep enough forces, over and above those in\ngarrison, to make us equal to the enemy in the open field, unless we\ncan depend on the arrival of an ally, who will relieve our strong\nplaces and set our army free. Consequently the number of fortresses has\nnecessarily much diminished, and this has again led to the abandonment\nof the idea of directly protecting the population and property in towns\nby fortifications, and promoted the other idea of regarding the\nfortresses as an indirect protection to the country, which they secure\nby their strategic importance as knots which hold together the\nstrategic web.\n\nSuch has been the course of ideas, not only in books but also in actual\nexperience, at the same time, as usually happens, it has been much more\nspun out in books.\n\nNatural as was this tendency of things, still these ideas were carried\nout to an extreme, and mere crotchets and fancies displaced the sound\ncore of a natural and urgent want. We shall look into these simple and\nimportant wants when we enumerate the objects and conditions of\nfortresses all together; we shall thereby advance from the simple to\nthe more complicated, and in the succeeding chapter we shall see what\nis to be deduced therefrom as to the determination of the position and\nnumber of fortresses.\n\nThe efficacy of a fortress is plainly composed of two different\nelements, the passive and the active. By the first it shelters the\nplace, and all that it contains; by the other it possesses a certain\ninfluence over the adjacent country, even beyond the range of its guns.\n\nThis active element consists in the attacks which the garrison may\nundertake upon every enemy who approaches within a certain distance.\nThe larger the garrison, so much the stronger numerically will be the\ndetachments that may be employed on such expeditions, and the stronger\nsuch detachments the wider as a rule will be the range of their\noperations; from which it follows that the sphere of the active\ninfluence of a great fortress is not only greater in intensity but also\nmore extensive than that of a small one. But the active element itself\nis again, to a certain extent, of two kinds, consisting namely of\nenterprises of the garrison proper, and of enterprises which other\nbodies of troops, great and small, not belonging to the garrison but in\nco-operation with it, may be able to carry out. For instance, corps\nwhich independently would be too weak to face the enemy, may, through\nthe shelter which, in case of necessity, the walls of a fortress afford\nthem, be able to maintain themselves in the country, and to a certain\nextent to command it.\n\nThe enterprises which the garrison of a fortress can venture to\nundertake are always somewhat restricted. Even in the case of large\nplaces and strong garrisons, the bodies of troops which can be employed\non such operations are mostly inconsiderable as compared with the\nforces in the field, and their average sphere of action seldom exceeds\na couple of days\u2019 marches. If the fortress is small, the detachments it\ncan send out are quite insignificant and the range of their activity\nwill generally be confined to the nearest villages. But corps which do\nnot belong to the garrison, and therefore are not under the necessity\nof returning to the place, are thereby much more at liberty in their\nmovements, and by their means, if other circumstances are favourable,\nthe external zone of action of a fortress may be immensely extended.\nTherefore if we speak of the active influence of fortresses in general\nterms, we must always keep this feature of the same principally in\nview.\n\nBut even the smallest active element of the weakest garrison, is still\nessential for the different objects which fortresses are destined to\nfulfil, for strictly speaking even the most passive of all the\nfunctions of a fortress (defence against attack) cannot be imagined\nexclusive of that active agency. At the same time it is evident that\namongst the different purposes which a fortress may have to answer\ngenerally, or in this or that moment, the passive element will be most\nrequired at one time, the active at another. The role which a fortress\nis to fulfil may be perfectly simple, and the action of the place will\nin such case be to a certain extent direct; it may be partly\ncomplicated, and the action then becomes more or less indirect. We\nshall examine these subjects separately, commencing with the first; but\nat the outset we must state that a fortress may be intended to answer\nseveral of these purposes, perhaps all of them, either at once, or at\nleast at different stages of the war.\n\nWe say, therefore, that fortresses are great and most important\nsupports of the defensive.\n\n1. _As secure depots of stores of all kinds._ The assailant during his\naggression subsists his army from day to day; the defensive usually\nmust have made preparations long beforehand, he need not therefore draw\nprovisions exclusively from the district he occupies, and which he no\ndoubt desires to spare. Storehouses are therefore for him a great\nnecessity. The provisions of all kinds which the aggressor possesses\nare in his rear as he advances, and are therefore exempt from the\ndangers of the theatre of war, while those of the defensive are exposed\nto them. If these provisions of all kinds are not in _fortified\nplaces_, then a most injurious effect on the operations in the field is\nthe consequence, and the most extended and compulsory positions often\nbecome necessary in order to cover depots or sources of supply.\n\nAn army on the defensive without fortresses has a hundred vulnerable\nspots; it is a body without armour.\n\n2. _As a protection to great and wealthy towns_. This purpose is\nclosely allied to the first, for great and wealthy towns, especially\ncommercial ones, are the natural storehouses of an army; as such their\npossession and loss affects the army directly. Besides this, it is also\nalways worth while to preserve this portion of the national wealth,\npartly on account of the resources which they furnish directly, partly\nbecause, in negotiations for peace, an important place is in itself a\nvaluable weight thrown into the scale.\n\nThis use of fortresses has been too little regarded in modern times,\nand yet it is one of the most natural, and one which has a most\npowerful effect, and is the least liable to mistakes. If there was a\ncountry in which not only all great and rich cities, but all populous\nplaces as well were fortified, and defended by the inhabitants and the\npeople belonging to the adjacent districts, then by that means the\nexpedition of military operation would be so much reduced, and the\npeople attacked would press with so great a part of their whole weight\nin the scales, that the talent as well as the force of will of the\nenemy\u2019s general would sink to nothing.\n\nWe just mention this ideal application of fortification to a country to\ndo justice to what we have just supposed to be the proper use of\nfortresses, and that the importance of the _direct_ protection which\nthey afford may not be overlooked for a moment; but in any other\nrespect this idea will not again interrupt our considerations, for\namongst the whole number of fortresses there must always be some which\nmust be more strongly fortified than others, to serve as the real\nsupports of the active army.\n\nThe purposes specified under 1 and 2 hardly call forth any other but\nthe passive action of fortresses.\n\n3. _As real barriers_, they close the roads, and in most cases the\nrivers, on which they are situated.\n\nIt is not as easy as is generally supposed to find a practicable\nlateral road which passes round a fortress, for this turning must be\nmade, not only out of reach of the guns of this place, but also by a\ndetour greater or less, to avoid sorties of the garrison.\n\nIf the country is in the least degree difficult, there are often delays\nconnected with the slightest deviation of the road which may cause the\nloss of a whole day\u2019s march, and, if the road is much used, may become\nof great importance.\n\nHow they may have an influence on enterprises by closing the navigation\nof a river is clear in itself.\n\n4. _As tactical points d\u2019appui_. As the diameter of the zone covered by\nthe fire of even a very inferior class of fortifications is usually\nsome leagues, fortresses may be considered always as the best points\nd\u2019appui for the flanks of a position. A lake of several miles long is\ncertainly an excellent support for the wing of an army, and yet a\nfortress of moderate size is better. The flank does not require to rest\nclose upon it, as the assailant, for the sake of his retreat, would not\nthrow himself between our flank and that obstacle.\n\n5. _As a station_ (_or stage_). If fortresses are on the line of\ncommunication of the defensive, as is generally the case, they serve as\nhalting places for all that passes up and down these lines. The chief\ndanger to lines of communication is from irregular bands, whose action\nis always of the nature of a shock. If a valuable convoy, on the\napproach of such a comet, can reach a fortress by hastening the march\nor quickly turning, it is saved, and may wait there till the danger is\npast. Further, all troops marching to or from the army, after halting\nhere for a a few days, are better able to hasten the remainder of the\nmarch, and a halting day is just the time of greatest danger. In this\nway a fortress situated half way on a line of communication of 30 miles\nshortens the line in a manner one half.\n\n6. _As places of refuge for weak or defeated corps._ Under the guns of\na moderate sized fortress every corps is safe from the enemy\u2019s blows,\neven if no entrenched camp is specially prepared for them. No doubt\nsuch a corps must give up its further retreat if it waits too long; but\nthis is no great sacrifice in cases where a further retreat would only\nend in complete destruction.\n\nIn many cases a fortress can ensure a few days\u2019 halt without the\nretreat being altogether stopped. For the slightly wounded and\nfugitives who precede a beaten army, it is especially suited as a place\nof refuge, where they can wait to rejoin their corps.\n\nIf Magdeburg had lain on the direct line of the Prussian retreat in\n1806, and if that line had not been already lost at Auerstadt, the army\ncould easily have halted for three or four days near that great\nfortress, and rallied and reorganised itself. But even as it was it\nserved as a rallying point for the remains of Hohenlohe\u2019s corps, which\nthere first resumed the appearance of an army.\n\nIt is only by actual experience in war itself that the beneficial\ninfluence of fortresses close at hand in disastrous times can be\nrightly understood. They contain powder and arms, forage and bread,\ngive covering to the sick, security to the sound, and recovery of sense\nto the panic-stricken. They are like an hostelry in the desert.\n\nIn the four last named purposes it is evident that the active agency of\nfortresses is called more into requisition.\n\n7. _As a real shield against the enemy\u2019s aggression._ Fortresses which\nthe defender leaves in his front break the stream of the enemy\u2019s attack\nlike blocks of ice. The enemy must at least invest them, and requires\nfor that, if the garrisons are brave and enterprising, perhaps double\ntheir strength. But, besides, these garrisons may and do mostly consist\nin part of troops, who, although competent to duty in a garrison, are\nnot fit for the field\u2014half trained militia, invalids, convalescents,\narmed citizens, landsturm, etc. The enemy, therefore, in such case is\nperhaps weakened four times more than we are.\n\nThis disproportionate weakening of the enemy\u2019s power is the first and\nmost important but not the only advantage which a besieged fortress\naffords by its resistance. From the moment that the enemy crosses our\nline of fortresses, all his movements become much more constrained; he\nis limited in his lines of retreat, and must constantly attend to the\ndirect covering of the sieges which he undertakes.\n\nHere, therefore, fortresses co-operate with the defensive act in a most\nextensive and decisive manner, and of all the objects that they can\nhave, this may be regarded as the most important.\n\nIf this use of fortresses\u2014far from being seen regularly repeating\nitself\u2014seldom comparatively occurs in military history, the cause is to\nbe found in the character of most wars, this means being to a certain\nextent far too decisive and too thoroughly effectual for them, the\nexplanation of which we leave till hereafter.\n\nIn this use of fortresses it is chiefly their offensive power that is\ncalled for, at least it is that by which their effectual action is\nchiefly produced. If a fortress was no more to an aggressor than a\npoint which could not be occupied by him, it might be an obstacle to\nhim, but not to such a degree as to compel him to lay siege to it But\nas he cannot leave six, eight, or ten thousand men to do as they like\nin his rear, he is obliged to invest the place with a sufficient force,\nand if he desires that this investment should not continue to employ so\nlarge a detachment, he must convert the investment into a siege, and\ntake the place. From the moment the siege commences, it is then chiefly\nthe passive efficacy of the fortress which comes into action.\n\nAll the destinations of fortresses which we have been hitherto\nconsidering are fulfilled in a simple and mainly in a direct manner. On\nthe other hand, in the next two objects the method of action is more\ncomplicated.\n\n8. _As a protection to extended cantonments._ That a moderate-sized\nfortress closes the approach to cantonments lying behind it for a width\nof three or four milesis a simple result of its existence; but how such\na place comes to have the honour of covering a line of cantonments\nfifteen or twenty miles in length, which we find frequently spoken of\nin military history as a fact\u2014that requires investigation as far as it\nhas really taken place, and refutation so far as it may be mere\nillusion.\n\nThe following points offer themselves for consideration:\u2014\n\n(1.) That the place in itself blocks one of the main roads, and really\ncovers a breadth of three or four miles of country.\n\n(2.) That it may be regarded as an exceptionally strong advanced post,\nor that it affords a more complete observation of the country, to which\nmay be added facilities in the way of secret information through the\nordinary relations of civil life which exist between a great town and\nthe adjacent districts It is natural that in a place of six, eight or\nten thousand inhabitants, one should be able to learn more of what is\ngoing on in the neighbourhood than in a mere village, the quarters of\nan ordinary outpost.\n\n(3.) That smaller corps are appuyed on it, derive from it protection\nand security, and from time to time can advance towards the enemy, it\nmay be to bring in intelligence, or, in case he attempts to turn the\nfortress, to underdertake something against his rear; that therefore\nalthough a fortress, cannot quit its place, still it may have the\nefficacy of an advanced corps (Fifth Book, eighth Chapter).\n\n(4.) That the defender, after assembling his corps, can take up his\nposition at a point directly behind this fortress, which the assailant\ncannot reach without becoming exposed to danger from the fortress in\nhis rear.\n\nNo doubt every attack on a line of cantonments as such is to be taken\nin the sense of a surprise, or rather, we are only speaking here of\nthat kind of attack; now it is evident in itself that an attack by\nsurprise accomplishes its effect in a much shorter space of time than a\nregular attack on a theatre of war. Therefore, although in the latter\ncase, a fortress which is to be passed by must necessarily be invested\nand kept in check, this investment will not be so indispensable in the\ncase of a mere sudden attack on cantonments, and therefore in the same\nproportion the fortress will be less an obstacle to the attack of the\ncantonments. That is true enough; also the cantonments lying at a\ndistance of six to eight miles from the fortress cannot be directly\nprotected by it; but the object of such a sudden attack does not\nconsist alone in the attack of a few cantonments. Until we reach the\nbook on attack we cannot describe circumstantially the real object of\nsuch a sudden attack and what may be expected from it; but this much we\nmay say at present, that its principal results are obtained, not by the\nactual attack on some isolated quarters, but by the series of combats\nwhich the aggressor forces on single corps not in proper order, and\nmore bent upon hurrying to certain points than upon fighting. But this\nattack and pursuit will always be in a direction more or less towards\nthe centre of the enemy\u2019s cantonments, and, therefore, an important\nfortress lying before this centre will certainly prove a very great\nimpediment to the attack.\n\nIf we reflect on these four points in the whole of their effects, we\nsee that an important fortress in a direct and in an indirect way\ncertainly gives some security to a much greater extent of cantonments\nthan we should think at first sight. \u201cSome security\u201d we say, for all\nthese indirect agencies do not render the advance of the enemy\nimpossible; they only make it _more difficult_, and a _more serious\nconsideration;_ consequently less probable and less of a danger for the\ndefensive. But that is also all that was required, and all that should\nbe understood in this case under the term covering. The real direct\nsecurity must be attained by means of outposts and the arrangement of\nthe cantonments themselves.\n\nThere is, therefore, some truth in ascribing to a great fortress the\ncapability of covering a wide extent of cantonments lying in rear of\nit; but it is also not to be denied that often in plans of real\ncampaigns, but still oftener in historical works, we meet with vague\nand empty expressions, or illusory views in connection with this\nsubject. For if that covering is only realised by the co-operation of\nseveral circumstances, if it then also only produces a diminution of\nthe danger, we can easily see that, in particular cases, through\nspecial circumstances, above all, through the boldness of the enemy,\nthis whole covering may prove an illusion, and therefore in actual war\nwe must not content ourselves with assuming hastily at once the\nefficacy of such and such a fortress, but carefully examine and study\neach single case on its own merits.\n\n9. _As covering a province not occupied._ If during war province is\neither not occupied at all, or only occupied by an insufficient force,\nand likewise exposed more or less to incursions from flying columns,\nthen a fortress, if not too unimportant in size, may be looked upon as\na covering, or, if we prefer, as a security for this province. As a\nsecurity it may at all events be regarded, for an enemy cannot become\nmaster of the province until he has taken it, and that gives us time to\nhasten to its defence. But the actual covering can certainly only be\nsupposed very indirect, or as _not preperly belonging to it_. That is,\nthe fortress by its active opposition can only in some measure check\nthe incursions of hostile bands. If this opposition is limited to\nmerely what the garrison can effect, then the result must be little\nindeed, for the garrisons of such places are generally weak and usually\nconsist of infantry only, and that not of the best quality. The idea\ngains a little more reality if small columns keep themselves in\ncommunication with the place, making it their base and place of retreat\nin case of necessity.\n\n10. _As the focus of a general arming of the nation._ Provisions, arms,\nand munitions can never be supplied in a regular manner in a People\u2019s\nWar; on the other hand, it is just in the very nature of such a war to\ndo the best we can; in that way a thousand small sources furnishing\nmeans of resistance are opened which otherwise might have remained\nunused; and it is easy to see that a strong commodious fortress, as a\ngreat magazine of these things, can well give to the whole defence more\nforce and intensity, more cohesion, and greater results.\n\nBesides, a fortress is a place of refuge for wounded, the seat of the\ncivil functionaries, the treasury, the point of assembly for the\ngreater enterprises, etc., etc.; lastly, a nucleus of resistance which\nduring the siege places the enemy\u2019s force in a condition which\nfacilitates and favours the attacks of national levies acting in\nconjunction.\n\n11. _For the defence of rivers and mountains._ Nowhere can a fortress\nanswer so many purposes, undertake to play so many parts, as when it is\nsituated on a great river. It secures the passage at any time at that\nspot, and hinders that of the enemy for several miles each way, it\ncommands the use of the river for commercial purposes, receives all\nships within its walls, blocks bridges and roads, and helps the\nindirect defence of the river, that is, the defence by a position on\nthe enemy\u2019s side. It is evident that, by its influence in so many ways,\nit very greatly facilitates the defence of the river, and may be\nregarded as an essential part of that defence.\n\nFortresses in mountains are important in a similar manner. They there\nform the knots of whole systems of roads, which have their commencement\nand termination at that spot; they thus command the whole country which\nis traversed by these roads, and they may be regarded as the true\nbuttresses of the whole defensive system.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. Fortresses (_Continued_)\n\nWe have discussed the object of fortresses: now for their situation. At\nfirst the subject seems very complicated, when we think of the\ndiversity of objects, each of which may again be modified by the\nlocality; but such a view has very little foundation if we keep to the\nessence of the thing, and guard against unnecessary subtilties.\n\nIt is evident that all these demands are at once satisfied, if, in\nthose districts of country which are to be regarded as the theatre of\nwar, all the largest and richest towns on the great high roads\nconnecting the two countries with each other are fortified, more\nparticularly those adjacent to harbours and bays of the sea, or\nsituated on large rivers and in mountains. Great towns and great roads\nalways go hand in hand, and both have also a natural connection with\ngreat rivers and the coasts of the sea, all these four conditions,\ntherefore, agree very well with each other, and give rise to no\nincongruity; on the other hand, it is not the same with mountains, for\nlarge towns are seldom found there. If, therefore, the position and\ndirection of a mountain chain makes it favourable to a defensive line,\nit is necessary to close its roads and passes by small forts, built for\nthis purpose only, and at the least possible cost, the great outlay on\nworks of fortification being reserved for the important places of arms\nin the level country.\n\nWe have not yet noticed the frontiers of the state, nor said anything\nof the geometrical form of the whole system of fortresses, nor of the\nother geographical points in connection with their situation, because\nwe regard the objects above mentioned as the most essential, and are of\nopinion that in many cases they alone are sufficient, particularly in\nsmall states. But, at the same time, other considerations may be\nadmitted, and may be imperative in countries of a greater superficial\nextent, which either have a great many important towns and roads, or,\non the contrary, are almost without any, which are either very rich,\nand, possessing already many fortresses, still want new ones, or those\nwhich, on the other hand, are very poor, and under the necessity of\nmaking a few answer, in short, in cases where the number of fortresses\ndoes not correspond with the number of important towns and roads which\npresent themselves, being either considerably greater or less.\n\nWe shall now cast a glance at the nature of such other considerations.\n\nThe chief questions which remain relate to\n\n1. The choice of the principal roads, if the two countries are\nconnected by more roads than we wish to fortify.\n\n2. Whether the fortresses are to be placed on the frontier only, or\nspread over the country. Or,\n\n3. Whether they shall be distributed uniformly, or in groups.\n\n4. Circumstances relating to the geography of the country to which it\nis necessary to pay attention.\n\nA number of other points with respect to the geometrical form of the\nline of fortifications, such as whether they should be placed in a\nsingle line or in several lines, that is, whether they do more service\nwhen placed one behind another, or side by side in line with each\nother; whether they should be chequer-wise, or in a straight line; or\nwhether they should take the form of a fortification itself, with\nsalients and re-entering angles all these we look upon as empty\nsubtilties, that is, considerations so insignificant, that, compared\nwith the really important points, they are not worth notice; and we\nonly mention them here because they are not merely treated of in many\nbooks, but also a great deal more is made of this rubbish than it is\nworth.\n\nAs regards the first question, in order to place it in a clearer light\nwe shall merely instance the relation of the south of Germany to\nFrance, that is, to the upper Rhine. If, without reference to the\nnumber of separate states composing this district of country, we\nsuppose it a whole which is to be fortified strategically, much doubt\nwill arise, for a great number of very fine roads lead from the Rhine\ninto the interior of Franconia, Bavaria and Austria. Certainly, towns\nare not wanting which surpass others in size and importance, as\nNuremburg, Wurzburg, Ulm, Augsburg, and Munich; but if we are not\ndisposed to fortify all, there is no alternative but to make a\nselection. If, further, in accordance with our view, the fortification\nof the greatest and wealthiest is held to be the principal thing, still\nit is not to be denied that, owing to the distance between Nuremburg\nand Munich, the first has a very different strategic signification from\nthe second; and therefore it always remains to be considered whether it\nwould not be better, in place of Nuremburg, to fortify some other place\nin the neighbourhood of Munich, even if the place is one of less\nimportance in itself.\n\nAs concerns the decision in such cases, that is, answering the first\nquestion, we must refer to what has been said in the chapters on the\ngeneral plan of defence, and on the choice of points of attack.\nWherever the most natural point of attack is situated, there the\ndefensive arrangements should be made by preference.\n\nTherefore, amongst a number of great roads leading from the enemy\u2019s\ncountry into ours, we should first of all fortify that which leads most\ndirectly to the heart of our dominions, or that which, traversing\nfertile provinces, or running parallel to navigable rivers, facilitates\nthe enemy\u2019s undertaking, and then we may rest secure. The assailant\nthen encounters these works, or should he resolve to pass them by, he\nwill naturally offer a favourable opportunity for operations against\nhis flank.\n\nVienna is the heart of South Germany, and plainly Munich or Augsburg,\nin relation to France alone (Switzerland and Italy being therefore\nsupposed neutral) would be more efficient as a principal fortress than\nNuremburg or Wurzburg. But if, at the same time, we look at the roads\nleading from Italy into Germany by Switzerland and the Tyrol, this will\nbecome still more evident, because, in relation to these, Munich and\nAugsburg will always be places of importance, whereas Wurzburg and\nNuremburg are much the same, in this respect, as if they did not exist.\n\nWe turn now to the second question Whether the fortresses should be\nplaced on the frontier, or distributed over the country? In the first\nplace, we must observe, that, as regards small states, this question is\nsuperfluous, for what are called _strategic frontiers_ coincide, in\ntheir case, nearly with the whole country. The larger the state is\nsupposed to be in the consideration of this question, the plainer\nappears the necessity for its being answered.\n\nThe most natural answer is, that fortresses belong to the frontiers,\nfor they are to defend the state, and the state is defended as long as\nthe frontiers are defended. This argument may be valid in the abstract,\nbut the following considerations will show that it is subject to very\nmany modifications.\n\nEvery defence which is calculated chiefly on foreign assistance lays\ngreat value on gaining time; it is not a vigorous counterstroke, but a\nslow proceeding, in which the chief gain consists more in delay than in\nany weakening of the enemy which is effected. But now it lies in the\nnature of the thing that, supposing all other circumstances alike,\nfortresses which are spread over the whole country, and include between\nthem a very considerable area of territory, will take longer to capture\nthan those squeezed together in a close line on the frontier. Further,\nin all cases in which the object is to overcome the enemy through the\nlength of his communications, and the difficulty of his existence\ntherefore in countries which can chiefly reckon on this kind of\nreaction, it would be a complete contradiction to have the defensive\npreparations of this kind only on the frontier. Lastly, let us also\nremember that, if circumstances will in any way allow of it, the\nfortification of the capital is a main point; that according to our\nprinciples the chief towns and places of commerce in the provinces\ndemand it likewise; that rivers passing through the country, mountains,\nand other irregular features of ground, afford advantages for new lines\nof defence; that many towns, through their strong natural situation,\ninvite fortification; moreover, that certain accessories of war, such\nas manufactories of arms, &c., are better placed in the interior of the\ncountry than on the frontier, and their value well entitles them to the\nprotection of works of fortification; then we see that there is always\nmore or less occasion for the construction of fortresses in the\ninterior of a country; on this account we are of opinion, that although\nstates which possess a great number of fortresses are right in placing\nthe greater number on the frontier, still it would be a great mistake\nif the interior of the country was left entirely destitute of them. We\nthink that this mistake has been made in a remarkable degree in France.\nA great doubt may with reason arise if the border provinces of a\ncountry contain no considerable towns, such towns lying further back\ntowards the interior, as is the case in South Germany in particular,\nwhere Swabia is almost destitute of great towns, whilst Bavaria\ncontains a large number. We do not hold it to be necessary to remove\nthese doubts once for all on general grounds, believing that in such\ncases, in order to arrive at a solution, reasons derived from the\nparticular situation must come into consideration. Still we must call\nattention to the closing remarks in this chapter.\n\nThe third question Whether fortresses should be disposed in groups, or\nmore equally distributed? will, if we reflect upon it, seldom arise;\nstill we must not, for that reason, set it down as a useless subtilty,\nbecause certainly a group of two, three, or four fortresses, which are\nonly a few days\u2019 march from a common centre, give that point and the\narmy placed there such strength, that, if other conditions allowed of\nit, in some measure one would be very much tempted to form such a\nstrategic bastion.\n\nThe last point concerns the other geographical properties of the points\nto be chosen. That fortresses on the sea, on streams and great rivers,\nand in mountains, are doubly effective, has been already stated to be\none of the principal considerations; but there are a number of other\npoints in connection with fortresses to which regard must be paid.\n\nIf a fortress cannot lie on the river itself, it is better not to place\nit near, but at a distance of ten or twelve miles from it; otherwise,\nthe river intersects, and lowers the value of the sphere of action of\nthe fortress in all those points above mentioned.(*)\n\n(*) Philippsburg was the pattern of a badly-placed fortress; it\nresembled a fool standing with his nose close to a wall.\n\n\nThis is not the same in mountains, because there the movement of large\nor small masses upon particular points is not restricted in the same\ndegree as it is by a river. But fortresses on the enemy\u2019s side of a\nmountain are not well placed, because they are difficult to succour. If\nthey are on our side, the difficulty of laying siege to them is very\ngreat, as the mountains cut across the enemy\u2019s line of communication.\nWe give Olm\u00fctz, 1758, as an example.\n\nIt is easily seen that impassable forests and marshes have a similar\neffect to that of rivers.\n\nThe question has been often raised as to whether towns situated in a\nvery difficult country are well or ill suited for fortresses. As they\ncan be fortified and defended at a small expense, or be made much\nstronger, often impregnable, at an equal expenditure, and the services\nof a fortress are always more passive than active, it does not seem\nnecessary to attach much importance to the objection that they can\neasily be blockaded.\n\nIf we now, in conclusion, cast a retrospective glance over our simple\nsystem of fortification for a country, we may assert that it rests on\ncomprehensive data, lasting in their nature, and directly connected\nwith the foundations of the state itself, not on transient views on\nwar, fashionable for a day; not on imaginary strategic niceties, nor on\nrequirements completely singular in character an error which might be\nattended with irreparable consequences if allowed to influence the\nconstruction of fortresses intended to last five hundred, perhaps a\nthousand, years. Silberberg, in Silesia, built by Frederick the Great\non one of the ridges of the Sudetics, has, from the complete alteration\nin circumstances which has since taken place, lost almost entirely its\nimportance and object, whilst Breslau, if it had been made a strong\nplace of arms, and continued to be so, would have always maintained its\nvalue against the French, as well as against the Russians, Poles, and\nAustrians.\n\nOur reader will not overlook the fact that these considerations are not\nraised on the supposed case of a state providing itself with a set of\nnew fortifications; they would be useless if such was their object, as\nsuch a case seldom, if ever, happens; but they may all arise at the\ndesigning of each single fortification.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Defensive Position\n\nEvery position in which we accept battle, at the same time making use\nof the ground as a means of protection, is a _defensive position_, and\nit makes no difference in this respect whether we act more passively or\nmore offensively in the action. This follows from the general view of\nthe defensive which we have given.\n\nNow we may also apply the term to every position in which an army\nwhilst marching to encounter the enemy would certainly accept battle if\nthe latter sought for it. In point of fact, most battles take place in\nthis way, and in all the middle ages no other was ever thought of. That\nis, however, not the kind of position of which we are now speaking; by\nfar the greater number of positions are of this kind, and the\nconception of a _position_ in contradistinction to a _camp taken up on\nthe march_ would suffice for that. A position which is specially called\na _defensive position_ must therefore have some other distinguishing\ncharacteristics.\n\nIn the decisions which take place in an ordinary position, the idea of\ntime evidently predominates; the armies march against each other in\norder to come to an engagement: the place is a subordinate point, all\nthat is required from it is that it should not be unsuitable. But in a\nreal defensive position the idea of _place_ predominates; the decision\nis to be realised on this _spot_, or rather, chiefly _through_ this\nspot. That is the only kind of position we have here in view.\n\nNow the connection of place is a double one; that is, in the first\ninstance, inasmuch as a force posted at this point exercises a certain\ninfluence upon the war in general; and next, inasmuch as the local\nfeatures of the ground contribute to the strength of the army and\nafford protection: in a word, a strategic and a tactical connection.\n\nStrictly speaking, the term _defensive position_ has its origin only in\nconnection with tactics, for its connection with strategy, namely, that\nan army posted at this point by its presence serves to defend the\ncountry, will also suit the case of an army acting offensively.\n\nThe strategic effect to be derived from a position cannot be shown\ncompletely until hereafter, when we discuss the defence of a theatre of\nwar; we shall therefore only consider it here as far as can be done at\npresent, and for that end we must examine more closely the nature of\ntwo ideas which have a similarity and are often mistaken for one\nanother, that is, the _turning a position_, and _the passing by it_.\n\nThe turning a position relates to its front, and is done either by an\nattack upon the side of the position or on its rear, or by acting\nagainst its lines of retreat and communication.\n\nThe first of these, that is, an attack on flank or rear is tactical in\nits nature. In our days in which the mobility of troops is so great,\nand all plans of battles have more or less in view the turning or\nenveloping the enemy, every position must accordingly be adapted to\nmeet such measures, and one to deserve the name of strong must, with a\nstrong front, allow at least of good combinations for battle on the\nsides and rear as well, in case of their being menaced. In this way a\nposition will not become untenable by the enemy turning it with a view\nto an attack on the flank or rear, as the battle which then takes place\nwas provided for in the choice of the position, and should ensure the\ndefender all the advantages which he could expect from this position\ngenerally.\n\nIf the position _is turned_ by the enemy with a view to acting against\nthe lines of retreat and communication, this is a _strategic_ relation,\nand the question is how long the position can be maintained, and\nwhether we cannot outbid the enemy by a scheme like his own, both these\nquestions depend on the situation of the point (strategically), that\nis, chiefly on the relations of the lines of communication of both\ncombatants. A good position should secure to the army on the defensive\nthe advantage in this point. In any case the position will not be\nrendered of no effect in this way, as the enemy is neutralised by the\nposition when he is occupied by it in the manner supposed.\n\nBut if the assailant, without troubling himself about the existence of\nthe army awaiting his attack in a defensive position, advances with his\nmain body by another line in pursuit of his object, then he _passes by\nthe position;_ and if he can do this with impunity, and really does it,\nhe will immediately enforce the abandonment of the position,\nconsequently put an end to its usefulness.\n\nThere is hardly any position in the world which, in the simple sense of\nthe words, cannot be passed by, for cases such as the isthmus of\nPerekop are so rare that they are hardly worth attention. The\nimpossibility of passing by must therefore be understood as merely\napplying to the disadvantages in which the assailant would become\ninvolved if he set about such an operation. We shall have a more\nfitting opportunity to state these disadvantages in the twenty-seventh\nchapter; whether small or great, in every case they are the equivalent\nof the tactical effect which the position is capable of producing but\nwhich has not been realised, and in common with it constitute the\nobject of the position.\n\nFrom the preceding observations, therefore, two strategic properties of\nthe defensive position have resulted:\n\n1. That it cannot be passed round.\n\n2. That in the struggle for the lines of communication it gives the\ndefender advantages.\n\nHere we have to add two other strategic properties, namely\u2014\n\n3. That the relation of the lines of communication may also have a\nfavourable influence on the form of combat; and\n\n4. That the general influence of the country is advantageous.\n\nFor the relation of the lines of communication has an influence not\nonly upon the possibility or impossibility of passing by a position or\nof cutting off the enemy\u2019s supplies, but also on the whole course of\nthe battle. An oblique line of retreat facilitates a tactical turning\nmovement on the part of the assailant, and paralyses our own tactical\nmovements during the battle. But an oblique position in relation to the\nlines of communication is often not the fault of tactics but a\nconsequence of a defective strategic point; it is, for example, not to\nbe avoided when the road changes direction in the vicinity of the\nposition (Borodino, 1812); the assailant is then in such a position\nthat he can turn our line _without deviating from, his own\nperpendicular disposition._\n\nFurther, the aggressor has much greater freedom for tactical movement\nif he commands several roads for his retreat whilst we are limited to\none. In such cases the tactical skill of the defensive will be exerted\nin vain to overcome the disadvantageous influence resulting from the\nstrategic relations.\n\nLastly as regards the fourth point, such a disadvantageous general\ninfluence may predominate in the other characteristics of ground, that\nthe most careful choice, and the best use of tactical means, can do\nnothing to combat them. Under such circumstances the chief points are\nas follows:\n\n1. The defensive must particularly seek for the advantage of being able\nto overlook his adversary, so that he may be able swiftly to throw\nhimself upon him inside the limits of his position. It is only when the\nlocal difficulties of approach combine with these two conditions that\nthe ground is really favourable to the defensive.\n\nOn the other hand, those points which are under the influence of\ncommanding ground are disadvantageous to him; also most positions in\nmountains (of which we shall speak more particularly in the chapters on\nmountain warfare). Further, positions which rest one flank on\nmountains, for such a position certainly makes the _passing by_ more\ndifficult, but facilitates a _turning movement_. Of the same kind are\nall positions which have a mountain immediately in their front, and\ngenerally all those which bear relation to the description of ground\nabove specified.\n\nAs an example of the opposite of these disadvantageous properties, we\nshall only instance the case of a position which has a mountain in\nrear; from this so many advantages result that it may be assumed in\ngeneral to be one of the most favourable of all positions for the\ndefensive.\n\n2. A country may correspond more or less to the character and\ncomposition of an army. A very numerous cavalry is a proper reason for\nseeking an open country. Want of this arm, perhaps also of artillery,\nwhile we have at command a courageous infantry inured to war, and\nacquainted with the country, make it advisable to take advantage of a\ndifficult, close country.\n\nWe do not here enter into particulars respecting the tactical relation\nwhich the local features of a defensive position bear to the force\nwhich is to occupy it. We only speak of the total result, as that only\nis a strategic quantity.\n\nUndoubtedly a position in which an army is to await the full force of\nthe hostile attack, should give the troops such an important advantage\nof ground as may be considered a multiplier of its force. Where nature\ndoes much, but not to the full as much as we want, the art of\nentrenchment comes to our help. In this way it happens not unfrequently\nthat some parts become _unassailable_, and not unusually the whole is\nmade so: plainly in this last case, the whole nature of the measure is\nchanged. It is then no longer a battle under advantageous conditions\nwhich we seek, and in this battle the issue of the campaign, but an\nissue without a battle. Whilst we occupy with our force an unassailable\nposition, we directly refuse the battle, and oblige our enemy to seek\nfor a solution in some other way.\n\nWe must, therefore, completely separate these two cases, and shall\nspeak of the latter in the following chapter, under the title of a\n_strong position_.\n\nBut the defensive position with which we have now to do is nothing more\nthan a field of battle with the addition of advantages in our favour;\nand that it should become a field of battle, the advantages in our\nfavour must not be _too great_. But now what degree of strength may\nsuch a position have? Plainly more in proportion as our enemy is more\ndetermined on the attack, and that depends on the nature of the\nindividual case. Opposed to a Buonaparte, we may and should withdraw\nbehind stronger ramparts than before a Daun or a Schwartzenburg.\n\nIf certain portions of a position are unattackable, say the front, then\nthat is to be taken as a separate factor of its whole strength, for the\nforces not required at that point are available for employment\nelsewhere; but we must not omit to observe that whilst the enemy is\nkept completely off such impregnable points, the form of his attack\nassumes quite a different character, and we must ascertain, in the\nfirst instance, how this alteration will suit our situation.\n\nFor instance, to take up a position, as has often been done, so close\nbehind a great river that it is to be looked upon as covering the\nfront, is nothing else but to make the river a point of support for the\nright or left flank; for the enemy is naturally obliged to cross\nfurther to the right or left, and cannot attack without changing his\nfront: the chief question, therefore, is what advantages or\ndisadvantages does that bring to us?\n\nAccording to our opinion, a defensive position will come the nearer to\nthe true ideal of such a position the more its strength is hid from\nobservation, and the more it is favourable to our surprising the enemy\nby our combinations in the battle. Just as we advisably endeavour to\nconceal from the enemy the whole strength of our forces and our real\nintentions, so in the same way we should seek to conceal from the enemy\nthe advantages which we expect to derive from the form of the ground.\nThis of course can only be done to a certain degree, and requires,\nperhaps, a peculiar mode of proceeding, hitherto but little attempted.\n\nThe vicinity of a considerable fortress, in whatever direction it may\nbe, confers on every position a great advantage over the enemy in the\nmovement and use of the forces belonging to it. By suitable\nfield-works, the want of natural strength at particular points may be\nremedied, and in that manner the great features of the battle may be\nsettled beforehand at will; these are the means of strengthening by\nart; if with these we combine a good selection of those natural\nobstacles of ground which impede the effective action of the enemy\u2019s\nforces without making action absolutely impossible, if we turn to the\nbest account the advantage we have over the enemy in knowing the\nground, which he does not, so that we succeed in concealing our\nmovements better than he does his, and that we have a general\nsuperiority over him in unexpected movements in the course of the\nbattle, then from these advantages united, there may result in our\nfavour an overpowering and decisive influence in connection with the\nground, under the power of which the enemy will succumb, without\nknowing the real cause of his defeat. This is what we understand under\n_defensive position_, and we consider it one of the greatest advantages\nof defensive war.\n\nLeaving out of consideration particular circumstances, we may assume\nthat an undulating, not too well, but still not too little, cultivated\ncountry affords the most positions of this kind.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps\n\nWe have said in the preceding chapter that a position so strong through\nnature, assisted by art, that it is unassailable, does not come under\nthe meaning of an advantageous field of battle, but belongs to a\npeculiar class of things. We shall in this chapter take a review of\nwhat constitutes the nature of this peculiarity, and on account of the\nanalogy between such positions and fortresses, call them _strong\npositions_.\n\nMerely by entrenchments alone they can hardly be formed, except as\nentrenched camps resting on fortresses; but still less are they to be\nfound ready formed entirely by natural obstacles. Art usually lends a\nhand to assist nature, and therefore they are frequently designated as\n_entrenched_ camps or positions. At the same time, that term may really\nbe applied to any position strengthened more or less by field works,\nwhich need have nothing in common with the nature of the position we\nare now considering.\n\nThe object of a strong position is to make the force there stationed in\npoint of fact unattackable, and by that means, either really to cover a\ncertain space directly, or only the troops which occupy that space in\norder then, through them, in another way to effect the covering of the\ncountry indirectly. The first was the signification of the _lines_ of\nformer times, for instance, those on the French frontier; the latter,\nis that of _entrenched camps_ laid out near fortresses, and showing a\nfront in every direction.\n\nIf, for instance, the front of a position is so strong by works and\nhindrances to approach that an attack is impossible, then the enemy is\ncompelled to turn it, to make his attack on a side of it or in rear.\nNow to prevent this being easily done, _points d\u2019appui_ were sought for\nthese lines, which should give them a certain degree of support on the\nside, such as the Rhine and the Vosges give the lines in Alsace. The\nlonger the front of such a line the more easily it can be protected\nfrom being turned, because every movement to turn it is attended with\ndanger to the side attempting the movement, the danger increasing in\nproportion as the required movement causes a greater deviation from the\nnormal direction of the attacking force. Therefore, a considerable\nlength of front, which can be made unassailable, and good\nflank-supports, ensure the possibility of protecting a large space of\nterritory directly from hostile invasion: at least, that was the view\nin which works of this class originated; that was the object of the\nlines in Alsace, with their right flank on the Rhine and the left on\nthe Vosges; and the lines in Flanders, fifteen miles long, resting\ntheir right on the Scheldt and the fortress of Tournay, their left on\nthe sea.\n\nBut when we have not the advantages of such a long well-defended front,\nand good flank-supports, if the country is to be held generally by a\nforce well entrenched, then that force (and its position) must be\nprotected against being turned by such an arrangement that it can show\na front in every direction. But then the idea of _a thoroughly covered\ntract of country_ vanishes, for such a position is only strategically a\npoint which covers the force occupying it, and thus secures to that\nforce the power of keeping the field, that is to say, _maintaining\nitself in the country_. Such a camp cannot be _turned_, that is, cannot\nbe attacked in flank or rear by reason of those parts being weaker than\nits front, for it can show front in all directions, and is equally\nstrong everywhere. But such a camp can be _passed by_, and that much\neasier than a fortified line, because its extent amounts to nothing.\n\nEntrenched camps connected with fortresses are in reality of this\nsecond kind, for the object of them is to protect the troops assembled\nin them; but their further strategic meaning, that is, the application\nof this protected force, is somewhat different from that of other\nfortified camps.\n\nHaving given this explanation of the origin of these three different\ndefensive means, we shall now proceed to consider the value of each of\nthem separately, under the heads of _strong lines, strong positions_,\nand _entrenched camps resting on fortresses._\n\n1. _Lines_.\u2014They are the worst kind of cordon war: the obstacle which\nthey present to the aggressor is of no value at all unless they are\ndefended by a powerful fire; in themselves they are simply worthless.\nBut now the extent to which an army can furnish an effective fire is\ngenerally very small in proportion to the extent of country to be\ndefended; the lines can, therefore, only be short, and consequently\ncover only a small extent of country, or the army will not be able\nreally to defend the lines at all points. In consequence of this, the\nidea was started of not occupying all points in the line, but only\nwatching them, and defending them by means of strong reserves, in the\nsame way as a small river may be defended; but this procedure is in\nopposition to the nature of the means. If the natural obstacles of the\nground are so great that such a method of defence could be applied,\nthen the entrenchments were needless, and entail danger, for that\nmethod of defence is not local, and entrenchments are only suited to a\nstrictly local defence; but if the entrenchments themselves are to be\nconsidered the chief impediments to approach, then we may easily\nconceive that an _undefended_ line will not have much to say as an\nobstacle to approach. What is a twelve or fifteen feet ditch, and a\nrampart ten or twelve feet high, against the united efforts of many\nthousands, if these efforts are not hindered by the fire of an enemy?\nThe consequence, therefore, is, that if such lines are short and\ntolerably well defended by troops, they can be _turned;_ but if they\nare extensive, and not sufficiently occupied, they can be attacked in\nfront, and taken without much difficulty.\n\nNow as lines of this description tie the troops down to a local\ndefence, and take away from them all mobility, they are a bad and\nsenseless means to use against an enterprising enemy. If we find them\nlong retained in modern wars in spite of these objections, the cause\nlies entirely in the low degree of energy impressed on the conduct of\nwar, one consequence of which was, that seeming difficulties often\neffected quite as much as real ones. Besides, in most campaigns these\nlines were used merely for a secondary defence against irregular\nincursions; if they have been found not wholly inefficacious for that\npurpose, we must only keep in view, at the same time, how much more\nusefully the troops required for their defence might have been employed\nat other points. In the latest wars such lines have been out of the\nquestion, neither do we find any trace of them; and it is doubtful if\nthey will ever re-appear.\n\n2. _Positions._\u2014The defence of a tract of country continues (as we\nshall show more plainly in the 27th chapter) as long as the force\ndesignated for it maintains itself there, and only ceases if that force\nremoves and abandons it.\n\nIf a force is to maintain itself in any district of country which is\nattacked by very superior forces, the means of protecting this force\nagainst the power of the sword by a position which is unassailable is a\nfirst consideration.\n\nNow such a position, as before said, must be able to show a front in\nall directions; and in conformity with the _usual_ extent of tactical\npositions, if the force is not _very large_ (and a large force would be\ncontrary to the nature of the supposed case) it would take up a very\nsmall space, which, in the course of the combat, would be exposed to so\nmany disadvantages that, even if strengthened in every possible way by\nentrenchments, we could hardly expect to make a successful defence.\nSuch a camp, showing front in every direction, must therefore\nnecessarily have an extent of sides proportionably great; but these\nsides must likewise be as good as unassailable; to give this requisite\nstrength, notwithstanding the required extension, is not within the\ncompass of the art of field fortification; it is therefore a\nfundamental condition that such a camp must derive part of its strength\nfrom natural impediments of ground which render many places impassable\nand others difficult to pass. In order, therefore, to be able to apply\nthis defensive means, it is necessary to find such a spot, and when\nthat is wanting, the object cannot be attained merely by field works.\nThese considerations relate more immediately to tactical results in\norder that we may first establish the existence of this strategic\nmeans; we mention as examples for illustration, Pirna, Bunzelwitz,\nColberg, Torres Vedras, and Drissa. Now, as respects the strategic\nproperties and effects. The first condition is naturally that the force\nwhich occupies this camp shall have its subsistence secured for some\ntime, that is, for as long as we think the camp will be required, and\nthis is only possible when the position has behind it a port, like\nColberg and Torres Vedras, or stands in connection with a fortress like\nBunzelwitz and Pirna, or has large dep\u00f4ts within itself or in the\nimmediate vicinity, like Drissa.\n\nIt is only in the first case that the provisioning can be ensured for\nany time we please; in the second and third cases, it can only be so\nfor a more or less limited time, so that in this point there is always\ndanger. From this appears how the difficulty of subsistence debars the\nuse of many strong points which otherwise would be suitable for\nentrenched positions, and, therefore, makes those that are eligible\n_scarce_.\n\nIn order to ascertain the eligibility of a position of this\ndescription, its advantages and defects, we must ask ourselves what the\naggressor can do against it.\n\n_a._ The assailant can pass by this strong position, pursue his\nenterprise, and watch the position with a greater or less force.\n\nWe must here make a distinction between the cases of a position which\nis occupied by the main body, and one only occupied by an inferior\nforce.\n\nIn the first case the passing by the position can only benefit the\nassailant, if, besides the principal force of the defendant, there is\nalso some other attainable and _decisive object of attack_, as, for\ninstance, the capture of a fortress or a capital city, etc. But even if\nthere is such an object, he can only follow it if the strength of his\nbase and the direction of his lines of communication are such that he\nhas no cause to fear operations against his strategic flanks.\n\nThe conclusions to be drawn from this with respect to the admissibility\nand eligibility of a strong position for the main body of the\ndefender\u2019s army are, that it is only an advisable position when either\nthe possibility of operating against the strategic flank of the\naggressor is so decisive that we may be sure beforehand of being able\nin that way to keep him at a point where his army can effect nothing,\nor in a case where there is no object attainable by the aggressor for\nwhich the defence need be uneasy. If there is such an object, and the\nstrategic flank of the assailant cannot be seriously menaced, then such\nposition should not be taken up, or if it is it should only be as a\nfeint to see whether the assailant can be imposed upon respecting its\nvalue; this is always attended with the danger, in case of failure, of\nbeing too late to reach the point which is threatened.\n\nIf the strong position is only held by an inferior force, then the\naggressor can never be at a loss for a further object of attack,\nbecause he has it in the main body itself of the enemy\u2019s army; in this\ncase, therefore, the value of the position is entirely limited to the\nmeans which it affords of operating against the enemy\u2019s strategic\nflank, and depends upon that condition.\n\n_b._ If the assailant does not venture to pass by a position, he can\ninvest it and reduce it by famine. But this supposes two conditions\nbeforehand: first, that the position is not open in rear, and secondly,\nthat the assailant is sufficiently strong to be able to make such an\ninvestment. If these two conditions are united then the assailant\u2019s\narmy certainly would be neutralised for a time by this strong position,\nbut at the same time, the defensive pays the price of this advantage by\na loss of his defensive force.\n\nFrom this, therefore, we deduce that the occupation of such a strong\nposition with the main body is a measure only to be taken,\u2014\n\n_aa._ When the rear is perfectly safe (Torres Vedras).\n\n_bb._ When we foresee that the enemy\u2019s force is not strong enough\nformally to invest us in our camp. Should the enemy attempt the\ninvestment with insufficient means, then we should be able to sally out\nof the camp and beat him in detail.\n\n_cc._ When we can count upon relief like the Saxons at Pirna, 1756, and\nas took place in the main at Prague, because Prague could only be\nregarded as an entrenched camp in which Prince Charles would not have\nallowed himself to be shut up if he had not known that the Moravian\narmy could liberate him.\n\nOne of these three conditions is therefore absolutely necessary to\njustify the choice of a strong position for the main body of an army;\nat the same time we must add that the two last are bordering on a great\ndanger for the defensive.\n\nBut if it is a question of exposing an inferior corps to the risk of\nbeing sacrificed for the benefit of the whole, then these conditions\ndisappear, and the only point to decide is whether by such a sacrifice\na greater evil may be avoided. This will seldom happen; at the same\ntime it is certainly not inconceivable. The entrenched camp at Pirna\nprevented Frederick the Great from attacking Bohemia, as he would have\ndone, in the year 1756. The Austrians were at that time so little\nprepared, that the loss of that kingdom appears beyond doubt; and\nperhaps, a greater loss of men would have been connected with it than\nthe 17,000 allied troops who capitulated in the Pirna camp.\n\n_c._ If none of those possibilities specified under _a_ and _b_ are in\nfavour of the aggressor; if, therefore, the conditions which we have\nthere laid down for the defensive are fulfilled, then there remains\ncertainly nothing to be done by the assailant but to fix himself before\nthe position, like a setter before a covey of birds, to spread himself,\nperhaps, as much as possible by detachments over the country, and\ncontenting himself with these small and indecisive advantages to leave\nthe real decision as to the possession of territory to the future. In\nthis case the position has fulfilled its object.\n\n3. _Entrenched camps near fortresses._\u2014They belong, as already said, to\nthe class of entrenched positions generally, in so far, as they have\nfor their object to cover not a tract of territory, but an armed force\nagainst a hostile attack, and only differ in reality from the other in\nthis, that with the fortress they make up an inseparable whole, by\nwhich they naturally acquire much greater strength.\n\nBut there follows further from the above the undermentioned special\npoints.\n\n_a._ That they may also have the particular object of rendering the\nsiege of the fortress either impossible or extremely difficult. This\nobject may be worth a great sacrifice of troops if the place is a port\nwhich cannot be blockaded, but in any other case we have to take care\nlest the place is one which may be reduced by hunger so soon that the\nsacrifice of any considerable number of troops is not justifiable.\n\n_b._ Entrenched camps can be formed near fortresses for smaller bodies\nof troops than those in the open field. Four or five thousand men may\nbe invincible under the walls of a fortress, when, on the contrary, in\nthe strongest camp in the world, formed in the open field, they would\nbe lost.\n\n_c._ They may be used for the assembly and organisation of forces which\nhave still too little solidity to be trusted in contact with the enemy,\nwithout the support afforded by the works of the place, as for example,\nrecruits, militia, national levies, etc.\n\nThey might, therefore, be recommended as a very useful measure, in many\nways, if they had not the immense disadvantage of injuring the\nfortress, more or less, when they cannot be occupied; and to provide\nthe fortress always with a garrison, in some measure sufficient to\noccupy the camp also, would be much too onerous a condition.\n\nWe are, therefore, very much inclined to consider them only advisable\nfor places on a sea coast, and as more injurious than useful in all\nother cases.\n\nIf, in conclusion, we should summarise our opinion in a general view,\nthen strong and entrenched positions are\u2014\n\n1. The more requisite the smaller the country, the less the space\nafforded for a retreat.\n\n2. The less dangerous the more surely we can reckon on succouring or\nrelieving them by other forces, or by the inclemency of season, or by a\nrising of the nation, or by want, &c.\n\n3. The more efficacious, the weaker the elementary force of the enemy\u2019s\nattack.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. Flank Positions\n\nWe have only allotted to this prominent conception, in the world of\nordinary military theory, a special chapter in dictionary fashion, that\nit may the more easily be found; for we do not believe that anything\nindependent in itself is denoted by the term.\n\nEvery position which is to be held, even if the enemy passes by it, is\na flank position; for from the moment that he does so it can have no\nother efficacy but that which it exercises on the enemy\u2019s strategic\nflank. Therefore, necessarily, all _strong positions_ are flank\npositions as well; for as they cannot be attacked, the enemy\naccordingly is driven to pass them by, therefore they can only have a\nvalue by their influence on his strategic flank. The direction of the\nproper front of a strong position is quite immaterial, whether it runs\nparallel with the enemy\u2019s strategic flank, as Colberg, or at right\nangles as Bunzelwitz and Drissa, for a strong position must front every\nway.\n\nBut it may also be desirable still to maintain a position which is\n_not_ unassailable, even if the enemy passes by it, should its\nsituation, for instance, give us such a preponderating advantage in the\ncomparative relations of the lines of retreat and communication, that\nwe can not only make an efficacious attack on the strategic flank of\nthe advancing enemy, but also that the enemy alarmed for his own\nretreat is unable to seize ours entirely; for if that last is not the\ncase, then because our position is not a strong, that is not an\n_unassailable one_, we should run the risk of being obliged to fight\nwithout having the command of any retreat.\n\nThe year 1806 affords an example which throws a light on this. The\ndisposition of the Prussian army, on the right bank of the Saal, might\nin respect to Buonaparte\u2019s advance by Hof, have become in every sense a\nflank position, if the army had been drawn up with its front parallel\nto the Saal, and there, in that position, waited the progress of\nevents.\n\nIf there had not been here such a disproportion of moral and physical\npowers, if there had only been a Daun at the head of the French army,\nthen the Prussian position might have shown its efficacy by a most\nbrilliant result. To pass it by was quite impossible; that was\nacknowledged by Buonaparte, by his resolution to attack it; in severing\nfrom it the line of retreat even Buonaparte himself did not\n_completely_ succeed, and if the disproportion in physical and moral\nrelations had not been quite so great, that would have been just as\nlittle practicable as the passing it by, for the Prussian army was in\nmuch less danger from its left wing being overpowered than the French\narmy would have been by the defeat of their left wing. Even with the\ndisproportion of physical and moral power as it existed, a resolute and\nsagacious exercise of the command would still have given great hopes of\na victory. There was nothing to prevent the Duke of Brunswick from\nmaking arrangements on the 13th, so that on the morning of the 14th, at\nday-break, he might have opposed 80,000 men to the 60,000 with which\nBuonaparte passed the Saal, near Jena and Dornburg. Had even this\nsuperiority in numbers, and the steep valley of the Saal behind the\nFrench not been sufficient to procure a decisive victory, still it was\na fortunate concurrence of circumstances, and if with such advantages\nno successful decision could be gained, no decision was to be expected\nin that district of country; and we should, therefore, have retreated\nfurther, in order to gain reinforcements and weaken the enemy.\n\nThe Prussian position on the Saal, therefore, although assailable,\nmight have been regarded as a flank position in respect to the great\nroad through Hof; but like every position which can be attacked, that\nproperty is not to be attributed to it absolutely, because it would\nonly have become so if the enemy had not attempted to attack it.\n\nStill less would it bespeak a clear idea if those positions which\n_cannot_ be maintained after the enemy has passed by them, and from\nwhich, in consequence of that, the defensive seeks to attack the\nassailant\u2019s flank, were called _flank positions_ merely because his\nattack is directed against a flank; for this flank attack has hardly\nanything to do with the position itself, or, at least, is not mainly\nproduced by its properties, as is the case in the action against a\nstrategic flank.\n\nIt appears from this that there is nothing new to establish with regard\nto the properties of a flank position. A few words only on the\ncharacter of the measure may properly be introduced here; we set aside,\nhowever, completely strong positions in the true sense, as we have said\nenough about them already.\n\nA flank position which is not assailable is an extremely efficacious\ninstrument, but certainly just on that account a dangerous one. If the\nassailant is checked by it, then we have obtained a great effect by a\nsmall expenditure of force; it is the pressure of the finger on the\nlong lever of a sharp bit. But if the effect is too insignificant, if\nthe assailant is not stopped, then the defensive has more or less\nimperilled his retreat, and must seek to escape either in haste and by\na detour\u2014consequently under very unfavourable circumstances, or he is\nin danger of being compelled to fight without any line of retreat being\nopen to him. Against a bold adversary, having the moral superiority,\nand seeking a decisive solution, this means is therefore extremely\nhazardous and entirely out of place, as shown by the example of 1806\nabove quoted. On the other hand, when used against a cautious opponent\nin a war of mere observation, it may be reckoned one of the best means\nwhich the defensive can adopt. The Duke Ferdinand\u2019s defence of the\nWeser by his position on the left bank, and the well-known positions of\nSchmotseifen and Landshut are examples of this; only the latter, it is\ntrue, by the catastrophe which befell Fouqu\u00e9\u2019s corps in 1760, also\nshows the danger of a false application.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. Defence of Mountains\n\nThe influence of mountains on the conduct of war is very great; the\nsubject, therefore, is very important for theory. As this influence\nintroduces into action a retarding principle, it belongs chiefly to the\ndefensive. We shall therefore discuss it here in a wider sense than\nthat conveyed by the simple conception, defence of mountains. As we\nhave discovered in our consideration of the subject results which run\ncounter to general opinion in many points, we shall therefore be\nobliged to enter into rather an elaborate analysis of it.\n\nWe shall first examine the tactical nature of the subject, in order to\ngain the point where it connects itself with strategy.\n\nThe endless difficulty attending the march of large columns on mountain\nroads, the extraordinary strength which a small post obtains by a steep\nscarp covering its front, and by ravines right and left supporting its\nflanks, are unquestionably the principal causes why such efficacy and\nstrength are universally attributed to the defence of mountains, so\nthat nothing but the peculiarities in armament and tactics at certain\nperiods has prevented large masses of combatants from engaging in it.\n\nWhen a column, winding like a serpent, toils its way through narrow\nravines up to the top of a mountain, and passes over it at a snail\u2019s\npace, artillery and train-drivers, with oaths and shouts, flogging\ntheir over-driven cattle through the narrow rugged roads, each broken\nwaggon has to be got out of the way with indescribable trouble, whilst\nall behind are detained, cursing and blaspheming, every one then thinks\nto himself, Now if the enemy should appear with only a few hundred men,\nhe might disperse the whole. From this has originated the expression\nused by historical writers, when they describe a narrow pass as a place\nwhere \u201ca handful of men might keep an army in check.\u201d At the same time,\nevery one who has had any experience in war knows, or ought to know,\nthat such a march through mountains has little or nothing in common\nwith _the attack_ of these same mountains, and that therefore to infer\nfrom the _difficulty_ of marching through mountains that the difficulty\nof attacking them must be much greater is a false conclusion.\n\nIt is natural enough that an inexperienced person should thus argue,\nand it is almost as natural that the art of war itself for a certain\ntime should have been entangled in the same error, for the fact which\nit related to was almost as new at that time to those accustomed to war\nas to the uninitiated. Before the Thirty Years\u2019 War, owing to the deep\norder of battle, the numerous cavalry, the rude fire-arms, and other\npeculiarities, it was quite unusual to make use of formidable obstacles\nof ground in war, and a formal defence of mountains, at least by\nregular troops, was almost impossible. It was not until a more extended\norder of battle was introduced, and that infantry and their arms became\nthe chief part of an army, that the use which might be made of hills\nand valleys occurred to men\u2019s minds. But it was not until a hundred\nyears afterwards, or about the middle of the eighteenth century, that\nthe idea became fully developed.\n\nThe second circumstance, namely, the great defensive capability which\nmight be given to a small post planted on a point difficult of access,\nwas still more suited to lead to an exaggerated idea of the strength of\nmountain defences. The opinion arose that it was only necessary to\nmultiply such a post by a certain number to make an army out of a\nbattalion, a chain of mountains out of a mountain.\n\nIt is undeniable that a small post acquires an extraordinary strength\nby selecting a good position in a mountainous country. A small\ndetatchment, which would be driven off in the level country by a couple\nof squadrons, and think itself lucky to save itself from rout or\ncapture by a hasty retreat, can in the mountains stand up before a\nwhole army, and, as one might say, with a kind of tactical effrontery\nexact the military honour of a regular attack, of having its flank\nturned, etc., etc. How it obtains this defensive power, by obstacles to\napproach, _points d\u2019appui_ for its flanks, and new positions which it\nfinds on its retreat, is a subject for tactics to explain; we accept it\nas an established fact.\n\nIt was very natural to believe that a number of such posts placed in a\nline would give a very strong, almost unassailable front, and all that\nremained to be done was to prevent the position from being turned by\nextending it right and left until either flank-supports were met with\ncommensurate with the importance of the whole, or until the extent of\nthe position itself gave security against turning movements. A\nmountainous country specially invites such a course by presenting such\na succession of defensive positions, each one apparently better than\nanother, that one does not know where to stop; and therefore it ended\nin all and every approach to the mountains within a certain distance\nbeing guarded, with a view to defence, and ten or fifteen single posts,\nthus spread over a space of about ten miles or more, were supposed to\nbid defiance to that odious turning movement. Now as the connection\nbetween these posts was considered sufficiently secure by the\nintervening spaces, being ground of an impassable nature (columns at\nthat time not being able to quit the regular roads), it was thought a\nwall of brass was thus presented to the enemy. As an extra precaution,\na few battalions, some horse artillery, and a dozen squadrons of\ncavalry, formed a reserve to provide against the event of the line\nbeing unexpectedly burst through at any point.\n\nNo one will deny that the prevalence of this idea is shown by history,\nand it is not certain that at this day we are completely emancipated\nfrom these errors.\n\nThe course of improvement in tactics since the Middle Ages, with the\never increasing strength of armies, likewise contributed to bring\nmountainous districts in this sense more within the scope of military\naction.\n\nThe chief characteristic of mountain defence is its complete passivity;\nin this light the tendency towards the defence of mountains was very\nnatural before armies attained to their present capability of movement.\nBut armies were constantly becoming greater, and on account of the\neffect of fire-arms began to extend more and more into long thin lines\nconnected with a great deal of art, and on that account very difficult,\noften almost impossible, to move. To dispose, in order of battle, such\nan artistic machine, was often half a day\u2019s work, and half the battle;\nand almost all which is now attended to in the preliminary plan of the\nbattle was included in this first disposition or drawing up. After this\nwork was done it was therefore difficult to make any modifications to\nsuit new circumstances which might spring up; from this it followed\nthat the assailant, being the last to form his line of battle,\nnaturally adapted it to the order of battle adopted by the enemy,\nwithout the latter being able in turn to modify his in accordance. The\nattack thus acquired a general superiority, and the defensive had no\nother means of reinstating the balance than that of seeking protection\nfrom the impediments of ground, and for this nothing was so favourable\nin general as mountainous ground. Thus it became an object to couple,\nas it were, the army with a formidable obstacle of ground, and the two\nunited then made common cause. The battalion defended the mountain, and\nthe mountain the battalion; so the passive defence through the aid of\nmountainous ground became highly efficacious, and there was no other\nevil in the thing itself except that it entailed a greater loss of\nfreedom of movement, but of that quality they did not understand the\nparticular use at that time.\n\nWhen two antagonistic systems act upon each other, the exposed, that\nis, the weak point on the one side always draws upon itself the blows\nfrom the other side. If the defensive becomes fixed, and as it were,\nspell-bound in posts, which are in themselves strong, and can not be\ntaken, the aggressor then becomes bold in turning movements, because he\nhas no apprehension about his own flanks. This is what took place\u2014The\n_turning_, as it was called, soon became the order of the day: to\ncounteract this, positions were extended more and more; they were thus\nweakened in front, and the offensive suddenly turned upon that part:\ninstead of trying to outflank by extending, the assailant now\nconcentrated his masses for attack at some one point, and the line was\nbroken. This is nearly what took place in regard to mountain defences\naccording to the latest modern history.\n\nThe offensive had thus again gained a preponderance through the greater\nmobility of troops; and it was only through the same means that the\ndefence could seek for help. But mountainous ground by its nature is\nopposed to mobility, and thus the whole theory of mountain defence\nexperienced, if we may use the expression, a defeat like that which the\narmies engaged in it in the Revolutionary war so often suffered.\n\nBut that we may not reject the good with the bad, and allow ourselves\nto be carried along by the stream of commonplace to assertions which,\nin actual experience, would be refuted a thousand times by the force of\ncircumstances, we must distinguish the effects of mountain defence\naccording to the nature of the cases.\n\nThe principal question to be decided here, and that which throws the\ngreatest light over the whole subject is, whether the resistance which\nis intended by the defence of mountains is to be _relative_ or\n_absolute_\u2014whether it is only intended to last for a time, or is meant\nto end in a decisive victory. For a resistance of the first kind\nmountainous ground is in a high degree suitable, and introduces into it\na very powerful element of strength; for one of the latter kind, on the\ncontrary, it is in general not at all suitable, or only so in some\nspecial cases.\n\nIn mountains every movement is slower and more difficult, costs also\nmore time, and more men as well, if within the sphere of danger. But\nthe loss of the assailant in time and men is the standard by which the\ndefensive resistance is measured. As long as the movement is all on the\nside of the offensive so long the defensive has a marked advantage; but\nas soon as the defensive resorts to this principle of movement also,\nthat advantage ceases. Now from the nature of the thing, that is to\nsay, on tactical grounds, a relative resistance allows of a much\ngreater degree of passivity than one which is intended to lead to a\ndecisive result, and it allows this passivity to be carried to an\nextreme, that is, to the end of the combat, which in the other case can\nnever happen. The impeding element of mountain ground, which as a\nmedium of greater density weakens all positive activity, is, therefore,\ncompletely suited to the passive defence.\n\nWe have already said that a small post acquires an extraordinary\nstrength by the nature of the ground; but although this tactical result\nin general requires no further proof, we must add to what we have said\nsome explanation. We must be careful here to draw a distinction between\nwhat is relatively and what is absolutely small. If a body of troops,\nlet its size be what it may, isolates a portion of itself in a\nposition, this portion may possibly be exposed to the attack of the\nwhole body of the enemy\u2019s troops, therefore of a superior force, in\nopposition to which it is itself small. There, as a rule, no absolute\nbut only a relative defence can be the object. The smaller the post in\nrelation to the whole body from which it is detached and in relation to\nthe whole body of the enemy, the more this applies.\n\nBut a post also which is small in an absolute sense, that is, one which\nis not opposed by an enemy superior to itself, and which, therefore,\nmay aspire to an absolute defence, a real victory, will be infinitely\nbetter off in mountains than a large army, and can derive more\nadvantage from the ground as we shall show further on.\n\nOur conclusion, therefore, is, that a small post in mountains possesses\ngreat strength. How this may be of decisive utility in all cases which\ndepend entirely on a _relative_ defence is plain of itself; but will it\nbe of the same decisive utility for the _absolute_ defence by a whole\narmy? This is the question which we now propose to examine.\n\nFirst of all we ask whether a front line composed of several posts has,\nas has hitherto been assumed, the same strength proportionally as each\npost singly. This is certainly not the case, and to suppose so would\ninvolve one of two errors.\n\nIn the first place, a country _without roads_ is often confounded with\none which is _quite impassable_. Where a column, or where artillery and\ncavalry cannot _march_, infantry may still, in general, be able to\npass, and even artillery may often be brought there as well, for the\nmovements made in a battle by excessive efforts of short duration are\nnot to be judged of by the same scale as marches. The secure connection\nof the single posts with one another rests therefore on an illusion,\nand the flanks are in reality in danger.\n\nOr next it is supposed, a line of small posts, which are very strong in\nfront, are also equally strong on their flanks, because a ravine, a\nprecipice, etc., etc., form excellent supports for a small post. But\nwhy are they so?\u2014not because they make it impossible to turn the post,\nbut because they cause the enemy an expenditure of time and of force,\nwhich gives scope for the effectual action of the post. The enemy who,\nin spite of the difficulty of the ground, wishes, and in fact is\nobliged, to turn such a post, because the front is unassailable\nrequires, perhaps, half-a-day to execute his purpose, and cannot after\nall accomplish it without some loss of men. Now if such a post can be\nsuccoured, or if it is only designed to resist for a certain space of\ntime, or lastly, if it is able to cope with the enemy, then the flank\nsupports have done their part, and we may say the position had not only\na strong front, but strong flanks as well. But it is not the same if it\nis a question of a line of posts, forming part of an extended mountain\nposition. None of these three conditions are realised in that case. The\nenemy attacks one point with an overwhelming force, the support in rear\nis perhaps slight, and yet it is a question of absolute resistance.\nUnder such circumstances the flank supports of such posts are worth\nnothing.\n\nUpon a weak point like this the attack usually directs its blows. The\nassault with concentrated, and therefore very superior forces, upon a\npoint in front, may certainly _be met by a resistance, which is very\nviolent as regards that point, but which is unimportant as regards the\nwhole._ After it is overcome, the line is pierced, and the object of\nthe attack attained.\n\nFrom this it follows that the relative resistance in mountain warfare\nis, in general, greater than in a level country, that it is\ncomparatively greatest in small posts, and does not increase in the\nsame measure as the masses increase.\n\nLet us now turn to the real object of great battles generally\u2014to the\n_positive victory_ which may also be the object in the defence of\nmountains. If the whole mass, or the principal part of the force, is\nemployed for that purpose, then _the defence of mountains_ changes\nitself _eo ipso_ into a _defensive battle in the mountains_. A battle,\nthat is the application of all our powers to the destruction of the\nenemy is now the form, a victory the object of the combat. The defence\nof mountains which takes place in this combat, appears now a\nsubordinate consideration, for it is no longer the object, it is only\nthe means. Now in this view, how does the ground in mountains answer to\nthe object?\n\nThe character of a defensive battle is a passive reaction in front, and\nan increased active reaction in rear; but for this the ground in\nmountains is a paralysing principle. There are two reasons for this:\nfirst, want of roads affording means of rapidly moving in all\ndirections, from the rear towards the front, and even the sudden\ntactical attack is hampered by the unevenness of ground; secondly, a\nfree view over the country, and the enemy\u2019s movements is not to be had.\nThe ground in mountains, therefore, ensures in this case to the enemy\nthe same advantages which it gave to us in the front, and deadens all\nthe better half of the resistance. To this is to be added a third\nobjection, namely the danger of being cut off. Much as a mountainous\ncountry is favourable to a retreat, made under a pressure exerted along\nthe whole front, and great as may be the loss of time to an enemy who\nmakes a turning movement in such a country, still these again are only\nadvantages in the case of a _relative defence_, advantages which have\nno connection with the decisive battle, the resistance to the last\nextremity. The resistance will last certainly somewhat longer, that is\nuntil the enemy has reached a point with his flank-columns which\nmenaces or completely bars our retreat. Once he has gained such a point\nthen relief is a thing hardly possible. No act of the offensive which\nwe can make from the rear can drive him out again from the _points\nwhich threaten us;_ no desperate assault with our whole mass can clear\nthe passage _which he blocks_. Whoever thinks he discovers in this a\ncontradiction, and believes that the advantages which the assailant has\nin mountain warfare, must also accrue to the defensive in an attempt to\ncut his way through, forgets the difference of circumstances. The corps\nwhich opposes the passage is not engaged in an _absolute_ defence, a\nfew hours\u2019 resistance will probably be sufficient; it is, therefore, in\nthe situation of a small post. Besides this, its opponent is no longer\nin full possession of all his fighting powers; he is thrown into\ndisorder, wants ammunition, etc. Therefore, in any view, the chance of\ncutting through is small, and this is the danger that the defensive\nfears above all; this fear is at work even during the battle, and\nenervates every fibre of the struggling athlete. A nervous sensibility\nsprings up on the flanks, and every small detachment which the\naggressor makes a display of on any wooded eminence in our rear, is for\nhim a new lever, helping on the victory.\n\nThese disadvantages will, for the most part, disappear, leaving all the\nadvantages, if the defence of a mountain district consists in the\nconcentrated disposition of the army on an extensive mountain plateau.\nThere we may imagine a very strong front; flanks very difficult of\napproach, and yet the most perfect freedom of movement, both within and\nin rear of the position. Such a position would be one of the strongest\nthat there can be, but it is little more than an illusion, for although\nmost mountains are more easily traversed along their crests than on\ntheir declivities, yet most plateaux of mountains are either too small\nfor such a purpose, or they have no proper right to be called plateaux,\nand are so termed more in a geological, than in a geometrical sense.\n\nFor smaller bodies of troops, the disadvantages of a defensive position\nin mountains diminish as we have already remarked. The cause of this\nis, that such bodies take up less space, and require fewer roads for\nretreat, etc., etc. A single hill is not a mountain system, and has not\nthe same disadvantages. The smaller the force, the more easily it can\nestablish itself on a single ridge or hill, and the less will be the\nnecessity for it to get entangled in the intricacies of countless steep\nmountain gorges.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. Defence of Mountains (_Continued_)\n\nWe now proceed to the strategic use of the tactical results developed\nin the preceding chapter. We make a distinction between the following\npoints:\n\n1. A mountainous district as a battle-field.\n\n2. The influence which the possession of it exercises on other parts of\nthe country.\n\n3. Its effect as a strategic barrier.\n\n4. The attention which it demands in respect to the supply of the\ntroops.\n\nThe first and most important of these heads, we must again subdivide as\nfollows:\n\n_a._ A general action.\n\n_b._ Inferior combats.\n\n1. A mountain system as a battle-field.\n\n\nWe have shown in the preceding chapter how unfavourable _mountain\nground_ is to the defensive in a _decisive battle_, and, on the other\nhand, how much it favours the assailant. This runs exactly counter to\nthe generally received opinion; but then how many other things there\nare which general opinion confuses; how little does it draw\ndistinctions between things which are of the most opposite nature! From\nthe powerful resistance which small bodies of troops may offer in a\nmountainous country, common opinion becomes impressed with an idea that\nall mountain defence is extremely strong, and is astonished when any\none denies that this great strength is communicated to the greatest act\nof all defence, the defensive battle. On the other hand, it is\ninstantly ready, whenever a battle is lost by the defensive in mountain\nwarfare, to point out the inconceivable error of a system of cordon\nwar, without any regard to the fact that in the nature of things such a\nsystem is unavoidable in mountain warfare. We do not hesitate to put\nourselves in direct opposition to such an opinion, and at the same time\nwe must mention, that to our great satisfaction, we have found our\nviews supported in the works of an author whose opinion ought to have\ngreat weight in this matter; we allude to the history of the campaigns\nof 1796 and 1797, by the Archduke Charles, himself a good historical\nwriter, a good critic, and above all, a good general.\n\nWe can only characterise it as a lamentable position when the weaker\ndefender, who has laboriously, by the greatest effort, assembled all\nhis forces, in order to make the assailant feel the effect of his love\nof Fatherland, of his enthusiasm and his ability, in a decisive battle\nwhen he on whom every eye is fixed in anxious expectation, having\nbetaken himself to the obscurity of thickly veiled mountains, and\nhampered in every movement by the obstinate ground, stands exposed to\nthe thousand possible forms of attack which his powerful adversary can\nuse against him. Only towards one single side is there still left an\nopen field for his intelligence, and that is in making all possible use\nof every obstacle of ground; but this leads close to the borders of the\ndisastrous war of cordons, which, under all circumstances, is to be\navoided. Very far therefore from seeing a refuge for the defensive, in\na mountainous country, when a decisive battle is sought, we should\nrather advise a general in such a case to avoid such a field by every\npossible means.\n\nIt is true, however, that this is sometimes impossible; but the battle\nwill then necessarily have a very different character from one in a\nlevel country: the disposition of the troops will be much more extended\nin most cases twice or three times the length; the resistance more\npassive, the counter blow much less effective. These are influences of\nmountain ground which are inevitable; still, in such a battle the\ndefensive is not to be converted into a mere defence of mountains; the\npredominating character must be a concentrated order of battle in the\nmountains, in which everything unites into _one_ battle, and passes as\nmuch as possible under the eye of _one_ commander, and in which there\nare sufficient reserves to make the decision something more than a mere\nwarding off, a mere holding up of the shield. This condition is\nindispensable, but difficult to realise; and the drifting into the pure\ndefence of mountains comes so naturally, that we cannot be surprised at\nits often happening; the danger in this is so great that theory cannot\ntoo urgently raise a warning voice.\n\nThus much as to a decisive battle with the main body of the army.\n\nFor combats of minor significance and importance, a mountainous\ncountry, on the other hand, may be very favourable, because the main\npoint in them is not absolute defence, and because no decisive results\nare coupled with them. We may make this plainer by enumerating the\nobjects of this reaction.\n\n_a._ Merely to gain time. This motive occurs a hundred times: always in\nthe case of a defensive line formed with the view of observation;\nbesides that, in all cases in which a reinforcement is expected.\n\n_b._ The repulse of a mere demonstration or minor enterprise of the\nenemy. If a province is guarded by mountains which are defended by\ntroops, then this defence, however weak, will always suffice to prevent\npartisan attacks and expeditions intended to plunder the country.\nWithout the mountains, such a weak chain of posts would be useless.\n\n_c._ To make demonstrations on our own part. It will be some time yet\nbefore general opinion with respect to mountains will be brought to the\nright point; until then an enemy may at any time be met with who is\nafraid of them, and shrinks back from them in his undertakings. In such\na case, therefore, the principal body may also be used for the defence\nof a mountain system. In wars carried on with little energy or\nmovement, this state of things will often happen; but it must always be\na condition then that we neither design to accept a general action in\nthis mountain position, nor can be compelled to do so.\n\n_d._ In general, a mountainous country is suited for all positions in\nwhich we do not intend to accept any great battle, for each of the\nseparate parts of the army is stronger there, and it is only the whole\nthat is weaker; besides, in such a position, it is not so easy to be\nsuddenly attacked and forced into a decisive battle.\n\n_e._ Lastly, a mountainous country is the true region for the efforts\nof a people in arms. But while national risings should always be\nsupported by small bodies of regular troops, on the other hand, the\nproximity of a great army seems to have an unfavourable effect upon\nmovements of this kind; this motive, therefore, as a rule, will never\ngive occasion for transferring the whole army to the mountains.\n\nThus much for mountains in connection with the positions which may be\ntaken up there for battle.\n\n2. The influence of mountains on other parts of the country.\n\n\nBecause, as we have seen, it is so easy in mountainous ground to secure\na considerable tract of territory by small posts, so weak in numbers\nthat in a district easily traversed they could not maintain themselves,\nand would be continually exposed to danger; because every step forward\nin mountains which have been occupied by the enemy must be made much\nmore slowly than in a level country, and therefore cannot be made at\nthe same rate with him therefore the question, Who is in possession? is\nalso much more important in reference to mountains than to any other\ntract of country of equal extent. In an open country, the possession\nmay change from day to day. The mere advance of strong detachments\ncompels the enemy to give up the country we want to occupy. But it is\nnot so in mountains; there a very stout resistance is possible by much\ninferior forces, and for that reason, if we require a portion of\ncountry which includes mountains, enterprises of a special nature,\nformed for the purpose, and often necessitating a considerable\nexpenditure of time as well as of men, are always required in order to\nobtain possession. If, therefore, the mountains of a country are not\nthe theatre of the principal operations of a war, we cannot, as we\nshould were it the case of a district of level country, look upon the\npossession of the mountains as dependent on and a necessary consequence\nof our success at other parts.\n\nA mountainous district has therefore much more independence, and the\npossession of it is much firmer and less liable to change. If we add to\nthis that a ridge of mountains from its crests affords a good view over\nthe adjacent open country, whilst it remains itself veiled in\nobscurity, we may therefore conceive that when we are close to\nmountains, without being in actual possession of them, they are to be\nregarded as a constant source of disadvantage a sort of laboratory of\nhostile forces; and this will be the case in a still greater degree if\nthe mountains are not only occupied by the enemy, but also form part of\nhis territory. The smallest bodies of adventurous partisans always find\nshelter there if pursued, and can then sally forth again with impunity\nat other points; the largest bodies, under their cover, can approach\nunperceived, and our forces must, therefore, always keep at a\nsufficient distance if they would avoid getting within reach of their\ndominating influence if they would not be exposed to disadvantageous\ncombats and sudden attacks which they cannot return.\n\nIn this manner every mountain system, as far as a certain distance,\nexercises a very great influence over the lower and more level country\nadjacent to it. Whether this influence shall take effect momentarily,\nfor instance in a battle (as at Maltsch on the Rhine, 1796) or only\nafter some time upon the lines of communication, depends on the local\nrelations; whether or not it shall be overcome through some decisive\nevent happening in the valley or level country, depends on the\nrelations of the armed forces to each other respectively.\n\nBuonaparte, in 1805 and 1809, advanced upon Vienna without troubling\nhimself much about the Tyrol; but Moreau had to leave Swabia in 1796,\nchiefly because he was not master of the more elevated parts of the\ncountry, and too many troops were required to watch them. In campaigns,\nin which there is an evenly balanced series of alternate successes on\neach side, we shall not expose ourselves to the constant disadvantage\nof the mountains remaining in possession of the enemy: we need,\ntherefore, only endeavour to seize and retain possession of that\nportion of them which is required on account of the direction of the\nprincipal lines of our attack; this generally leads to the mountains\nbeing the arena of the separate minor combats which take place between\nforces on each side. But we must be careful of overrating the\nimportance of this circumstance, and being led to consider a\nmountain-chain as the key to the whole in all cases, and its possession\nas the main point. When a victory is the object sought; then it is the\nprincipal, object; and if the victory is gained, other things can be\nregulated according to the paramount requirement of the situation.\n\n3. Mountains considered in their aspect of a strategic barrier.\n\n\nWe must divide this subject under two heads.\n\nThe first is again that of a decisive battle. We can, for instance,\nconsider the mountain chain as a river, that is, as a barrier with\ncertain points of passage, which may afford us an opportunity of\ngaining a victory, because the enemy will be compelled by it to divide\nhis forces in advancing, and is tied down to certain roads, which will\nenable us with our forces concentrated behind the mountains to fall\nupon fractions of his force. As the assailant on his march through the\nmountains, irrespective of all other considerations, cannot march in a\nsingle column because he would thus expose himself to the danger of\ngetting engaged in a decisive battle with only one line of retreat,\ntherefore, the defensive method recommends itself certainly on\nsubstantial grounds. But as the conception of mountains and their\noutlets is very undefined, the question of adopting this plan depends\nentirely on the nature of the country itself, and it can only be\npointed out as possible whilst it must also be considered as attended\nwith two disadvantages, the first is, that if the enemy receives a\nsevere blow, he soon finds shelter in the mountains; the second is,\nthat he is in possession of the higher ground, which, although not\ndecisive, must still always be regarded as a disadvantage for the\npursuer.\n\nWe know of no battle given under such circumstances unless the battle\nwith Alvinzi in 1796 can be so classed. But that the case _may_ occur\nis plain from Buonaparte\u2019s passage of the Alps in the year 1800, when\nMelas might and should have fallen on him with his whole force before\nhe had united his columns.\n\nThe second influence which mountains may have as a barrier is that\nwhich they have upon the lines of communication if they cross those\nlines. Without taking into account what may be done by erecting forts\nat the points of passage and by arming the people, the bad roads in\nmountains at certain seasons of the year may of themselves alone prove\nat once destructive to an army; they have frequently compelled a\nretreat after having first sucked all the marrow and blood out of the\narmy. If, in addition, troops of active partisans hover round, or there\nis a national rising to add to the difficulties, then the enemy\u2019s army\nis obliged to make large detachments, and at last driven to form strong\nposts in the mountains and thus gets engaged in one of the most\ndisadvantageous situations that can be in an offensive war.\n\n4. Mountains in their relation to the provisioning of an army.\n\n\nThis is a very simple subject, easy to understand. The opportunity to\nmake the best use of them in this respect is when the assailant is\neither obliged to remain in the mountains, or at least to leave them\nclose in his rear.\n\nThese considerations on the defence of mountains, which, in the main,\nembrace all mountain warfare, and, by their reflection, throw also the\nnecessary light on offensive war, must not be deemed incorrect or\nimpracticable because we can neither make plains out of mountains, nor\nhills out of plains, and the choice of a theatre of war is determined\nby so many other things that it appears as if there was little margin\nleft for considerations of this kind. In affairs of magnitude it will\nbe found that this margin is not so small. If it is a question of the\ndisposition and effective employment of the principal force, and that,\neven in the moment of a decisive battle, by a few marches more to the\nfront or rear an army can be brought out of mountain ground into the\nlevel country, then a resolute concentration of the chief masses in the\nplain will neutralise the adjoining mountains.\n\nWe shall now once more collect the light which has been thrown on the\nsubject, and bring it to a focus in one distinct picture.\n\nWe maintain and believe we have shown, that mountains, both tactically\nand strategically, are in general unfavourable to the defensive,\nmeaning thereby, that kind of defensive which is _decisive_, on the\nresult of which the question of the possession or loss of the country\ndepends. They limit the view and prevent movements in every direction;\nthey force a state of passivity, and make it necessary to stop every\navenue or passage, which always leads more or less to a war of cordons.\nWe should therefore, if possible, avoid mountains with the principal\nmass of our force, and leave them on one side, or keep them before or\nbehind us.\n\nAt the same time, we think that, for minor operations and objects,\nthere is an element of increased strength to be found in mountain\nground; and after what has been said, we shall not be accused of\ninconsistency in maintaining that such a country is the real place of\nrefuge for the weak, that is, for those who dare not any longer seek an\nabsolute decision. On the other hand again, the advantages derived from\na mountainous country by troops acting an inferior r\u00f4le cannot be\nparticipated in by large masses of troops.\n\nStill all these considerations will hardly counteract the impressions\nmade on the senses. The imagination not only of the inexperienced but\nalso of all those accustomed to bad methods of war will still feel in\nthe concrete case such an overpowering dread of the difficulties which\nthe inflexible and retarding nature of mountainous ground opposes to\nall the movements of an assailant, that they will hardly be able to\nlook upon our opinion as anything but a most singular paradox. Then\nagain, with those who take a general view, the history of the last\ncentury (with its peculiar form of war) will take the place of the\nimpressions of the senses, and therefore there will be but few who will\nnot still adhere to the belief that Austria, for example, should be\nbetter able to defend her states on the Italian side than on the side\nof the Rhine. On the other hand, the French who carried on war for\ntwenty years under a leader both energetic and indifferent to minor\nconsiderations, and have constantly before their eyes the successful\nresults thus obtained, will, for some time to come, distinguish\nthemselves in this as well as in other cases by the tact of a practised\njudgment.\n\nDoes it follow from this that a state would be better protected by an\nopen country than by mountains, that Spain would be stronger without\nthe Pyrenees; Lombardy more difficult of access without the Alps, and a\nlevel country such as North Germany more difficult to conquer than a\nmountainous country? To these false deductions we shall devote our\nconcluding remarks.\n\nWe do not assert that Spain would be stronger without the Pyrenees than\n_with_ them, but we say that a Spanish army, feeling itself strong\nenough to engage in a decisive battle, would do better by concentrating\nitself in a position behind the Ebro, than by fractioning itself\namongst the fifteen passes of the Pyrenees. But the influence of the\nPyrenees on war is very far from being set aside on that account. We\nsay the same respecting an Italian army. If it divided itself in the\nHigh Alps it would be vanquished by each resolute commander it\nencountered, without even the alternative of victory or defeat; whilst\nin the plains of Turin it would have the same chance as every other\narmy. But still no one can on that account suppose that it is desirable\nfor an aggressor to have to march over masses of mountains such as the\nAlps, and to leave them behind. Besides, a determination to accept a\ngreat battle in the plains, by no means excludes a preliminary defence\nof the mountains by subordinate forces, an arrangement very advisable\nin respect to such masses as the Alps and Pyrenees. Lastly, it is far\nfrom our intention to argue that the conquest of a mountainous country\nis easier than that of a level(*) one, unless a single victory sufficed\nto prostrate the enemy completely. After this victory ensues a state of\ndefence for the conqueror, during which the mountainous ground must be\nas disadvantageous to the assailant as it was to the defensive, and\neven more so. If the war continues, if foreign assistance arrives, if\nthe people take up arms, this reaction will gain strength from a\nmountainous country.\n\n(*) As it is conceived that the words \u201c_ebenen_\u201d and \u201c_gebirgigen_\u201d in\nthis passage in the original have by some means become transposed,\ntheir equivalents\u2014_level_ and _mountainous_\u2014are here placed in the\norder in which it is presumed the author intended the words to\nstand.\u2014Tr.\n\n\nIt is here as in dioptrics, the image represented becomes more luminous\nwhen moved in a certain direction, not, however, as far as one pleases,\nbut only until the focus is reached, beyond that the effect is\nreversed.\n\nIf the defensive is weaker in the mountains, that would seem to be a\nreason for the assailant to prefer a line of operations in the\nmountains. But this will seldom occur, because the difficulties of\nsupporting an army, and those arising from the roads, the uncertainty\nas to whether the enemy will accept battle in the mountains, and even\nwhether he will take up a position there with his principal force, tend\nto neutralise that possible advantage.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. Defence of Mountains (_continued_)\n\nIn the fifteenth chapter we spoke of the nature of combats in\nmountains, and in the sixteenth of the use to be made of them by\nstrategy, and in so doing we often came upon the idea of _mountain\ndefence_, without stopping to consider the form and details of such a\nmeasure. We shall now examine it more closely.\n\nAs mountain systems frequently extend like streaks or belts over the\nsurface of the earth, and form the division between streams flowing in\ndifferent directions, consequently the separation between whole water\nsystems, and as this general form repeats itself in the parts composing\nthat whole, inasmuch as these parts diverge from the main chain in\nbranches or ridges, and then form the separation between lesser water\nsystems; hence the idea of a system of mountain defence has naturally\nfounded itself in the first instance, and afterwards developed itself,\nupon the conception of the general form of mountains, that of an\nobstacle, like a great barrier, having greater length than breadth.\nAlthough geologists are not yet agreed as to the origin of mountains\nand the laws of their formation, still in every case the course of the\nwaters indicates in the shortest and surest manner the general form of\nthe system, whether the action of the water has contributed to give\nthat general form (according to the aqueous theory), or that the course\nof the water is a consequence of the form of the system itself. It was,\ntherefore, very natural again, in devising a system of mountain\ndefence, to take the course of the waters as a guide, as those courses\nform a natural series of levels, from which we can obtain both the\ngeneral height and the general profile of the mountain, while the\nvalleys formed by the streams present also the best means of access to\nthe heights, because so much of the effect of the erosive and alluvial\naction of the water is permanent, that the inequalities of the slopes\nof the mountain are smoothed down by it to one regular slope. Hence,\ntherefore, the idea of mountain defence would assume that, when a\nmountain ran about parallel with the front to be defended, it was to be\nregarded as a great obstacle to approach, as a kind of rampart, the\ngates of which were formed by the valleys. The real defence was then to\nbe made on the crest of this rampart, (that is, on the edge of the\nplateau which crowned the mountain) and cut the valleys transversely.\nIf the line of the principal mountain-chain formed somewhat of a right\nangle with the front of defence, then one of the principal branches\nwould be selected to be used instead; thus the line chosen would be\nparallel to one of the principal valleys, and run up to the principal\nridge, which might be regarded as the extremity.\n\nWe have noticed this scheme for mountain defence founded on the\ngeological structure of the earth, because it really presented itself\nin theory for some time, and in the so-called \u201ctheory of ground\u201d the\nlaws of the process of aqueous action have been mixed up with the\nconduct of war.\n\nBut all this is so full of false hypotheses and incorrect\nsubstitutions, that when these are abstracted, nothing in reality\nremains to serve as the basis of any kind of a system.\n\nThe principal ridges of real mountains are far too impracticable and\ninhospitable to place large masses of troops upon them; it is often the\nsame with the adjacent ridges, they are often too short and irregular.\nPlateaux do not exist on all mountain ridges, and where they are to be\nfound they are mostly narrow, and therefore unfit to accommodate many\ntroops; indeed, there are few mountains which, closely examined, will\nbe found surmounted by an uninterrupted ridge, or which have their\nsides at such an angle that they form in some measure practicable\nslopes, or, at least, a succession of terraces. The principal ridge\nwinds, bends, and splits itself; immense branches launch into the\nadjacent country in curved lines, and lift themselves often just at\ntheir termination to a greater height than the main ridge itself;\npromontories then join on, and form deep valleys which do not\ncorrespond with the general system. Thus it is that, when several lines\nof mountains cross each other, or at those points from which they\nbranch out, the conception of a small band or belt is completely at an\nend, and gives place to mountain and water lines radiating from a\ncentre in the form of a star.\n\nFrom this it follows, and it will strike those who have examined\nmountain-masses in this manner the more forcibly, that the idea of a\nsystematic disposition is out of the question, and that to adhere to\nsuch an idea as a fundamental principle for our measures would be\nwholly impracticable. There is still one important point to notice\nbelonging to the province of practical application.\n\nIf we look closely at mountain warfare in its tactical aspects, it is\nevident that these are of two principal kinds, the first of which is\nthe defence of steep slopes, the second is that of narrow valleys. Now\nthis last, which is often, indeed almost generally, highly favourable\nto the action of the defence, is not very compatible with the\ndisposition on the principal ridge, for the occupation of the valley\n_itself_ is often required and that at its outer extremity nearest to\nthe open country, not at its commencement, because there its sides are\nsteeper. Besides, this defence of valleys offers a means of defending\nmountainous districts, even when the ridge itself affords no position\nwhich can be occupied; the r\u00f4le which it performs is, therefore,\ngenerally greater in proportion as the masses of the mountains are\nhigher and more inaccessible.\n\nThe result of all these considerations is, that we must entirely give\nup the idea of a defensible line more or less regular, and coincident\nwith one of the geological lines, and must look upon a mountain range\nas merely a surface intersected and broken with inequalities and\nobstacles strewed over it in the most diversified manner, the features\nof which we must try to make the best use of which circumstances\npermit; that therefore, although a knowledge of the geological features\nof the ground is indispensable to a clear conception of the form of\nmountain masses, it is of little value in the organisation of defensive\nmeasures.\n\nNeither in the war of the Austrian Succession, nor in the Seven Years\u2019\nWar, nor in those of the French Revolution, do we find military\ndispositions which comprehended a whole mountain system, and in which\nthe defence was systematised in accordance with the leading features of\nthat system. Nowhere do we find armies on the principal ridges always\nin position on the slopes. Sometimes at a greater, sometimes at a lower\nelevation; sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; parallel,\nat right angles, and obliquely; with and against the watercourse; in\nlofty mountains, such as the Alps, frequently extended along the\nvalleys; amongst mountains of a inferior class, like the Sudetics (and\nthis is the strangest anomaly), at the middle of the declivity, as it\nsloped towards the defender, therefore with the principal ridge in\nfront, like the position in which Frederick the Great, in 1762, covered\nthe siege of Schwednitz, with the \u201chohe Eule\u201d before the front of his\ncamp.\n\nThe celebrated positions, Schmotseifen and Landshut, in the Seven\nYears\u2019 War, are for the most part in the bottoms of valleys. It is the\nsame with the position of Feldkirch, in the Vorarlsberg. In the\ncampaigns of 1799 and 1800, the chief posts, both of the French and\nAustrians, were always quite in the valleys, not merely across them so\nas to close them, but also parallel with them, whilst the ridges were\neither not occupied at all, or merely by a few single posts.\n\nThe crests of the higher Alps in particular are so difficult of access,\nand afford so little space for the accommodation of troops, that it\nwould be impossible to place any considerable bodies of men there. Now\nif we must positively have armies in mountains to keep possession of\nthem, there is nothing to be done but to place them in the valleys. At\nfirst sight this appears erroneous, because, in accordance with the\nprevalent theoretical ideas, it will be said, the heights command the\nvalleys. But that is really not the case. Mountain ridges are only\naccessible by a few paths and rude tracks, with a few exceptions only\npassable for infantry, whilst the carriage roads are in the valleys.\nThe enemy can only appear there at certain points with infantry; but in\nthese mountain masses the distances are too great for any effective\nfire of small arms, and therefore a position in the valleys is less\ndangerous than it appears. At the same time, the valley defence is\nexposed to another great danger, that of being cut off. The enemy can,\nit is true, only descend into the valley with infantry, at certain\npoints, slowly and with great exertion; he cannot, therefore, take us\nby surprise; but none of the positions we have in the valley defend the\noutlets of such paths into the valley. The enemy can, therefore, bring\ndown large masses gradually, then spread out, and burst through the\nthin and from that moment weak line, which, perhaps, has nothing more\nfor its protection than the rocky bed of a shallow mountain-stream. But\nnow retreat, which must always be made piecemeal in a valley, until the\noutlet from the mountains is reached, is impossible for many parts of\nthe line of troops; and that was the reason that the Austrians in\nSwitzerland almost always lost a third, or a half of their troops taken\nprisoners.\u2014\n\nNow a few words on the usual way of dividing troops in such a method of\ndefence.\n\nEach of the subordinate positions is in relation with a position taken\nup by the principal body of troops, more or less in the centre of the\nwhole line, on the principal road of approach. From this central\nposition, other corps are detached right and left to occupy the most\nimportant points of approach, and thus the whole is disposed in a line,\nas it were, of three, four, five, six posts, &c. How far this\nfractioning and extension of the line shall be carried, must depend on\nthe requirements of each individual case. An extent of a couple of\nmarches, that is, six to eight miles is of moderate length, and we have\nseen it carried as far as twenty or thirty miles.\n\nBetween each of these separate posts, which are one or two leagues from\neach other, there will probably be some approaches of inferior\nimportance, to which afterwards attention must be directed. Some very\ngood posts for a couple of battalions each are selected, which form a\ngood connection between the chief posts, and they are occupied. It is\neasy to see that the distribution of the force may be carried still\nfurther, and go down to posts occupied only by single companies and\nsquadrons; and this has often happened. There are, therefore, in this\nno general limits to the extent of fractioning. On the other hand, the\nstrength of each post must depend on the strength of the whole; and\ntherefore we can say nothing as to the possible or natural degree which\nshould be observed with regard to the strength of the principal posts.\nWe shall only append, as a guide, some maxims which are drawn from\nexperience and the nature of the case.\n\n1. The more lofty and inaccessible the mountains are, so much the\nfurther this separation of divisions of the force not only may be, _but\nalso must be_, carried; for the less any portion of a country can be\nkept secure by combinations dependent on the movement of troops, so\nmuch the more must the security be obtained by direct covering. The\ndefence of the Alps requires a much greater division of force, and\ntherefore approaches nearer to the cordon system, than the defence of\nthe Vosges or the Giant mountains.\n\n2. Hitherto, wherever defence of mountains has taken place, such a\ndivision of the force employed has been made that the chief posts have\ngenerally consisted of only one line of infantry, and in a second line,\nsome squadrons of cavalry; at all events, only the chief post\nestablished in the centre has perhaps had some battalions in a second\nline.\n\n3. A strategic reserve, to reinforce any point attacked, has very\nseldom been kept in rear, because the extension of front made the line\nfeel too weak already in all parts. On this account the support which a\npost attacked has received, has generally been furnished from other\nposts in the line not themselves attacked.\n\n4. Even when the division of the forces has been relatively moderate,\nand the strength of each single post considerable, the principal\nresistance has been always confined to a local defence; and if once the\nenemy succeeded in wresting a post, it has been impossible to recover\nit by any supports afterwards arriving.\n\nHow much, according to this, may be expected from mountain defence, in\nwhat cases this means may be used, how far we can and may go in the\nextension and fractioning of the forces\u2014these are all questions which\ntheory must leave to the tact of the general. It is enough if it tells\nhim what these means really are, and what r\u00f4le they can perform in the\nactive operations of the army.\n\nA general who allows himself to be beaten in an extended mountain\nposition deserves to be brought before a court martial.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. Defence of Streams and Rivers\n\nStreams and large rivers, in so far as we speak of their defence,\nbelong, like mountains, to the category of strategic barriers. But they\ndiffer from mountains in two respects. The one concerns their relative,\nthe other their absolute defence.\n\nLike mountains, they strengthen the relative defence; but one of their\npeculiarities is, that they are like implements of hard and brittle\nmetal, they either stand every blow without bending, or their defence\nbreaks and then ends altogether. If the river is very large, and the\nother conditions are favourable, then the passage may be absolutely\nimpossible. But if the defence of any river is forced at one point,\nthen there cannot be, as in mountain warfare, a persistent defence\nafterwards; the affair is finished with that one act, unless that the\nriver itself runs between mountains.\n\nThe other peculiarity of rivers in relation to war is, that in many\ncases they admit of very good, and in general of better combinations\nthan mountains for a decisive battle.\n\nBoth again have this property in common, that they are dangerous and\nseductive objects which have often led to false measures, and placed\ngenerals in awkward situations. We shall notice these results in\nexamining more closely the defence of rivers.\n\nAlthough history is rather bare in examples of rivers defended with\nsuccess, and therefore the opinion is justified that rivers and streams\nare no such formidable barriers as was once supposed, when an absolute\ndefensive system seized all means of strengthening itself which the\ncountry offered, still the influence which they exercise to the\nadvantage of the battle, as well as of the defence of a country, cannot\nbe denied.\n\nIn order to look over the subject in a connected form, we shall specify\nthe different points of view from which we propose to examine it.\n\nFirst and foremost, the strategic results which streams and rivers\nproduce through their defence, must be distinguished from the influence\nwhich they have on the defence of a country, even when not themselves\nspecially defended.\n\nFurther, the defence itself may take three different forms:\u2014\n\n1. An absolute defence with the main body.\n\n2. A mere demonstration of resistance.\n\n3. A relative resistance by subordinate bodies of troops, such as\noutposts, covering lines, flanking corps, etc.\n\nLastly, we must distinguish three different degrees or kinds of\ndefence, in each of its forms, namely\u2014\n\n1. A direct defence by opposing the passage.\n\n2. A rather indirect one, by which the river and its valley are only\nused as a means towards a better combination for the battle.\n\n3. A completely direct one, by holding an unassailable position on the\nenemy\u2019s side of the river.\n\nWe shall subdivide our observations, in conformity with these three\ndegrees, and after we have made ourselves acquainted with each of them\nin its relation to the first, which is the most important of the forms,\nwe shall then proceed to do the same in respect to their relations to\nthe other two. Therefore, first, the direct defence, that is, such a\ndefence as is to prevent the passage of the enemy\u2019s army itself.\n\nThis can only come into the question in relation to large rivers, that\nis, great bodies of water.\n\nThe combinations of space, time, and force, which require to be looked\ninto as elements of this theory of defence, make the subject somewhat\ncomplicated, so that it is not easy to gain a sure point from which to\ncommence. The following is the result at which every one will arrive on\nfull consideration.\n\nThe time required to build a bridge determines the distance from each\nother at which the corps charged with the defence of the river should\nbe posted. If we divide the whole length of the line of defence by this\ndistance, we get the number of corps required for the defence; if with\nthat number we divide the mass of troops disposable, we shall get the\nstrength of each corps. If we now compare the strength of each single\ncorps with the number of troops which the enemy, by using all the means\nin his power, can pass over during the construction of his bridge, we\nshall be able to judge how far we can expect a successful resistance.\nFor we can only assume the forcing of the passage to be impossible when\nthe defender is able to attack the troops passed over with a\n_considerable numerical superiority_, say _the double_, before the\nbridge is completed. An illustration will make this plain.\n\nIf the enemy requires twenty-four hours for the construction of a\nbridge, and if he can by other means only pass over 20,000 men in those\ntwenty-four hours, whilst the defender within twelve hours can appear\nat any point whatever with 20,000 men, in such case the passage cannot\nbe forced; for the defender will arrive when the enemy engaged in\ncrossing has only passed over the half of 20,000. Now as in twelve\nhours, the time for conveying intelligence included, we can march four\nmiles, therefore every eight miles 20,000 men would be required, which\nwould make 60,000 for the defence of a length of twenty-four miles of\nriver. These would be sufficient for the appearance of 20,000 men at\nany point, even if the enemy attempted the passage at two points at the\nsame time; if at only one point twice 20,000 could be brought to oppose\nhim at that single point.\n\nHere, then, there are three circumstances exercising a decisive\ninfluence: (1) the breadth of the river; (2) the means of passage, for\nthe two determine both the time required to construct the bridge, and\nthe number of troops that can cross during the time the bridge is being\nbuilt; (3) the strength of the defender\u2019s army. The strength of the\nenemy\u2019s force itself does not as yet come into consideration. According\nto this theory we may say that there is a point at which the\npossibility of crossing completely stops, and that no numerical\nsuperiority on the part of the enemy would enable him to force a\npassage.\n\nThis is the simple theory of the direct defence of a river, that is, of\na defence intended to prevent the enemy from finishing his bridge and\nfrom making the passage itself; in this there is as yet no notice taken\nof the effect of demonstrations which the enemy may use. We shall now\nbring into consideration particulars in detail, and measures requisite\nfor such a defence.\n\nSetting aside, in the first place, geographical peculiarities, we have\nonly to say that the corps as proposed by the present theory, must be\nposted close to the river, and each corps in itself concentrated. It\nmust be close to the river, because every position further back\nlengthens unnecessarily and uselessly the distance to be gone over to\nany point menaced; for as the waters of the river give security against\nany important movement on the part of the enemy, a reserve in rear is\nnot required, as it is for an ordinary line of defence, where there is\nno river in front. Besides, the roads running parallel to and near a\nriver up and down, are generally better than transverse roads from the\ninterior leading to any particular points on the river. Lastly, the\nriver is unquestionably better watched by corps thus placed than by a\nmere chain of posts, more particularly as the commanders are all close\nat hand.\u2014Each of these corps must be concentrated in itself, because\notherwise all the calculation as to time would require alteration. He\nwho knows the loss of time in effecting a concentration, will easily\ncomprehend that just in this concentrated position lies the great\nefficacy of the defence. No doubt, at first sight, it is very tempting\nto make the crossing, even in boats, impossible for the enemy by a line\nof posts; but with a few exceptions of points, specially favourable for\ncrossing, such a measure would be extremely prejudicial. To say nothing\nof the objection that the enemy can generally drive off such a post by\nbringing a superior force to bear on it from the opposite side, it is,\nas a rule, a waste of strength, that is to say, the most that can be\nobtained by any such post, is to compel the enemy to choose another\npoint of passage. If, therefore, we are not so strong that we can treat\nand defend the river like a ditch of a fortress, a case for which no\nnew precept is required, such a method of directly defending the bank\nof a river leads necessarily away from the proposed object. Besides\nthese general principles for positions, we have to consider\u2014first, the\nexamination of the special peculiarities of the river; second, the\nremoval of all means of passage; third, the influence of any fortresses\nsituated on the river.\n\nA river, considered as a line of defence, must have at the extremities\nof the line, right and left, _points d\u2019appui_, such as, for instance,\nthe sea, or a neutral territory; or there must be other causes which\nmake it impracticable for the enemy to turn the line of defence by\ncrossing beyond its extremities. Now, as neither such flank supports\nnor such impediments are to be found, unless at considerable distances,\nwe see at once that the defence of a river must embrace a considerable\nportion of its length, and that, therefore, the possibility of a\ndefence by placing a large body of troops behind a relatively short\nlength of the river vanishes from the class of possible facts (to which\nwe must always confine ourselves). We say _a relatively short length of\nthe river_, by which we mean a length which does not very much exceed\nthat which the same number of troops would usually occupy on an\nordinary position in line without a river. Such cases, we say, do not\noccur, and every direct defence of a river always becomes a kind of\ncordon system, at least as far as regards the extension of the troops,\nand therefore is not at all adapted to oppose a turning movement on the\npart of the enemy in the same manner which is natural to an army in a\nconcentrated position. Where, therefore, such turning movement is\npossible, the direct defence of the river, however promising its\nresults in other respects, is a measure in the highest degree\ndangerous.\n\nNow, as regards the portion of the river between its extreme points, of\ncourse we may suppose that all points within that portion are not\nequally well suited for crossing. This subject admits of being somewhat\nmore precisely determined in the abstract, but not positively fixed,\nfor the very smallest local peculiarity often decides more than all\nwhich looks great and important in books. Besides, it is wholly\nunnecessary to lay down any rules on this subject, for the appearance\nof the river, and the information to be obtained from those residing\nnear it, will always amply suffice, without referring back to books.\n\nAs matters of detail, we may observe that roads leading down upon a\nriver, its affluents, the great towns through which it passes, and\nlastly above all, its islands, generally favour a passage the most;\nthat on the other hand, the elevation of one bank over another, and the\nbend in the course of the river at the point of passage, which usually\nact such a prominent r\u00f4le in books, are seldom of any consequence. The\nreason of this is, that the presumed influence of these two things\nrests on the limited idea of an absolute defence of the river bank\u2014a\ncase which seldom or never happens in connection with great rivers.\n\nNow, whatever may be the nature of the circumstances which make it\neasier to cross a river at particular points, they must have an\ninfluence on the position of the troops, and modify the general\ngeometrical law; but it is not advisable to deviate too far from that\nlaw, relying on the difficulties of the passage at many points. The\nenemy would choose exactly those spots which are the least favourable\nby nature for crossing, if he knew that these are the points where\nthere is the least likelihood of meeting us.\n\nIn any case the strongest possible occupation of islands is a measure\nto be recommended, because a serious attack on an island indicates in\nthe surest way the intended point of passage.\n\nAs the corps stationed close to a river must be able to move either up\nor down along its banks according as circumstances require, therefore\nif there is no road parallel to the river, one of the most essential\npreparatory measures for the defence of the river is to put the nearest\nsmall roads running in a parallel direction into suitable order, and to\nconstruct such short roads of connection as may be necessary.\n\nThe second point on which we have to speak, is the removal of the means\nof crossing.\u2014On the river itself the thing is no easy matter, at least\nrequires considerable time; but on the affluents which fall into the\nriver, particularly those on the enemy\u2019s side, the difficulties are\nalmost insurmountable, as these branch rivers are generally already in\nthe hands of the enemy. For that reason it is important to close the\nmouths of such rivers by fortifications.\n\nAs the equipment for crossing rivers which an enemy brings with him,\nthat is his pontoons, are rarely sufficient for the passage of great\nrivers, much depends on the means to be found on the river itself, its\naffluents, and in the great towns adjacent, and lastly, on the timber\nfor building boats and rafts in forests near the river. There are cases\nin which all these circumstances are so unfavourable, that the crossing\nof a river is by that means almost an impossibility.\n\nLastly, the fortresses, which lie on both sides, or on the enemy\u2019s side\nof the river, serve both to prevent any crossing at any points near\nthem, up or down the river, and as a means of closing the mouths of\naffluents, as well as to receive immediately all craft or boats which\nmay be seized.\n\nSo much as to the direct defence of a river, on the supposition that it\nis one containing a great volume of water. If a deep valley with\nprecipitous sides or marshy banks, are added to the barrier of the\nriver itself, then the difficulty of passing and the strength of the\ndefence are certainly increased; but the volume of water is not made up\nfor by such obstacles, for they constitute no absolute severance of the\ncountry, which is an _indispensable_ condition of direct defence.\n\nIf we are asked what r\u00f4le such a direct river defence can play in the\nstrategic plan of the campaign, we must admit that it can never lead to\na decisive victory, partly because the object is not to let the enemy\npass over to our side at all, or to crush the first mass of any size\nwhich passes; partly because the river prevents our being able to\nconvert the advantages gained into a decisive victory by sallying forth\nin force.\n\nOn the other hand, the defence of a river in this way may produce a\ngreat gain of time, which is generally all important for the defensive.\nThe collecting the means of crossing, takes up often much time; if\nseveral attempts fail a good deal more time is gained. If the enemy, on\naccount of the river, gives his forces an entirely different direction,\nthen still further advantages may be gained by that means. Lastly,\nwhenever the enemy is not in downright earnest about advancing, a river\nwill occasion a stoppage in his movements and thereby afford a durable\nprotection to the country.\n\nA direct defence of a river, therefore, when the masses of troops\nengaged are considerable, the river large, and other circumstances\nfavourable, may be regarded as a very good defensive means, and may\nyield results to which commanders in modern times (influenced only by\nthe thought of unfortunate attempts to defend rivers, which failed from\ninsufficient means), have paid too little attention. For if, in\naccordance with the supposition just made (which may easily be realized\nin connection with such rivers as the Rhine or the Danube), an\nefficient defence of 24 miles of river is possible by 60,000 men in\nface of a very considerably superior force, we may well say that such a\nresult deserves consideration.\n\nWe say, in opposition to a _considerably superior force_, and must\nagain recur to that point. According to the theory we have propounded,\nall depends on the means of crossing, and nothing on the numerical\nstrength of the force seeking to cross, always supposing it is not less\nthan the force which defends the river. This appears very\nextraordinary, and yet it is true. But we must take care not to forget\nthat most defences of rivers, or, more properly speaking, the whole,\nhave no absolute _points d\u2019appui_, therefore, may be turned, and this\nturning movement will be very much easier if the enemy has very\nsuperior numbers.\n\nIf now we reflect that such a direct defence of a river, even if\novercome by the enemy, is by no means to be compared to a lost battle,\nand can still less lead to a complete defeat, since only a part of our\nforce has been engaged, and the enemy, detained by the tedious crossing\nover of his troops on a single bridge, cannot immediately follow up his\nvictory, we shall be the less disposed to despise this means of\ndefence.\n\nIn all the practical affairs of human life it is important to hit the\nright point; and so also, in the defence of a river, it makes a great\ndifference whether we rightly appreciate our situation in all its\nrelations; an apparently insignificant circumstance may essentially\nalter the case, and make a measure which is wise and effective in one\ninstance, a disastrous mistake in another. This difficulty of forming a\nright judgment and of avoiding the notion that \u201ca river is a river\u201d is\nperhaps greater here than anywhere else, therefore we must especially\nguard against false applications and interpretations; but having done\nso, we have also no hesitation in plainly declaring that we do not\nthink it worth while to listen to the cry of those who, under the\ninfluence of some vague feeling, and without any fixed idea, expect\neverything from attack and movement, and think they see the most true\npicture of war in a hussar at full gallop brandishing his sword over\nhis head.\n\nSuch ideas and feelings are not always all that is required (we shall\nonly instance here the once famous dictator Wedel, at Z\u00fcllichau, in\n1759); but the worst of all is that they are seldom durable, and they\nforsake the general at the last moment if great complex cases branching\nout into a thousand relations bear heavily upon him.\n\nWe therefore believe that a direct defence of a river with large bodies\nof troops, under favourable conditions, can lead to successful results\nif we content ourselves with a moderate negative: but this does not\nhold good in the case of smaller masses. Although 60,000 men on a\ncertain length of river could prevent an army of 100,000 or more from\npassing, a corps of 10,000 on the same length would not be able to\noppose the passage of a corps of 10,000 men, indeed, probably, not of\none half that strength if such a body chose to run the risk of placing\nitself on the same side of the river with an enemy so much superior in\nnumbers. The case is clear, as the means of passing do not alter.\n\nWe have as yet said little about feints or demonstrations of crossing,\nas they do not essentially come into consideration in the direct\ndefence of a river, for partly such defence is not a question of\nconcentration of the army at one point, but each corps has the defence\nof a portion of the river distinctly allotted to it; partly such\nsimulated intentions of crossing are also very difficult under the\ncircumstances we have supposed. If, for instance, the means of crossing\nin themselves are already limited, that is, not in such abundance as\nthe assailant must desire to ensure the success of his undertaking, he\nwill then hardly be able or willing to apply a large share to a mere\ndemonstration: at all events the mass of troops to be passed over at\nthe true point of crossing must be so much the less, and the defender\ngains again in time what through uncertainty he may have lost.\n\nThis direct defence, as a rule, seems only suitable to large rivers,\nand on the last half of their course.\n\nThe second form of defence is suitable for smaller rivers with deep\nvalleys, often also for very unimportant ones. It consists in a\nposition taken up further back from the river at such a distance that\nthe enemy\u2019s army may either be caught in detail after the passage (if\nit passes at several points at the same time) or if the passage is made\nby the whole at one point, then near the river, hemmed in upon one\nbridge and road. An army with the rear pressed close against a river or\na deep valley, and confined to one line of retreat, is in a most\ndisadvantageous position for battle; in the making proper use of this\ncircumstance, consists precisely the most efficacious defence of rivers\nof moderate size, and running in deep valleys.\n\nThe disposition of an army in large corps close to a river which we\nconsider the best in a direct defence, supposes that the enemy cannot\npass the river unexpectedly and in great force, because otherwise, by\nmaking such a disposition, there would be great danger of being beaten\nin detail. If, therefore, the circumstances which favour the defence\nare not sufficiently advantageous, if the enemy has already in hand\nample means of crossing, if the river has many islands or fords, if it\nis not broad enough, if we are too weak, etc., etc., then the idea of\nthat method may be dismissed: the troops for the more secure connection\nwith each other must be drawn back a little from the river, and all\nthat then remains to do is to ensure the most rapid concentration\npossible upon that point where the enemy attempts to cross, so as to be\nable to attack him before he has gained so much ground that he has the\ncommand of several passages. In the present case the river or its\nvalley must be watched and partially defended by a chain of outposts\nwhilst the army is disposed in several corps at suitable points and at\na certain distance (usually a few leagues) from the river.\n\nThe most difficult point lies here in the passage through the narrow\nway formed by the river and its valley. It is not now only the volume\nof water in the river with which we are concerned, but the whole of the\ndefile, and, as a rule, a deep rocky valley is a greater impediment to\npass than a river of considerable breadth. The difficulty of the march\nof a large body of troops through a long defile is in reality much\ngreater than appears at first consideration. The time required is very\nconsiderable; and the danger that the enemy during the march may make\nhimself master of the surrounding heights must cause disquietude. If\nthe troops in front advance too far, they encounter the enemy too soon,\nand are in danger of being overpowered; if they remain near the point\nof passage then they fight in the worst situation. The passage across\nsuch an obstacle of ground with a view to measure strength with the\nenemy on the opposite side is, therefore, a bold undertaking, or it\nimplies very superior numbers and great confidence in the commander.\n\nSuch a defensive line cannot certainly be extended to such a length as\nin the direct defence of a great river, for it is intended to fight\nwith the whole force united, and the passages, however difficult,\ncannot be compared in that respect with those over a large river; it\nis, therefore, much easier for the enemy to make a turning movement\nagainst us. But at the same time, such a movement carries him out of\nhis natural direction (for we suppose, as is plain in itself, that the\nvalley crosses that direction at about right angles), and the\ndisadvantageous effect of a confined line of retreat only disappears\ngradually, not at once, so that the defender will still always have\nsome advantage over the advancing foe, although the latter is not\ncaught exactly at the crisis of the passage, but by the detour he makes\nis enabled to get a little more room to move.\n\nAs we are not speaking of rivers in connection only with the mass of\ntheir waters, but have rather more in view the deep cleft or channel\nformed by their valleys, we must explain that under the term we do not\nmean any regular mountain gorge, because then all that has been said\nabout mountains would be applicable. But, as every one knows, there are\nmany level districts where the channels of even the smallest streams\nhave deep and precipitous sides; and, besides these, such as have\nmarshy banks, or whose banks are otherwise difficult of approach,\nbelong to the same class.\n\nUnder these conditions, therefore, an army on the defensive, posted\nbehind a large river or deep valley with steep sides, is in a very\nexcellent position, and this sort of river defence is a strategic\nmeasure of the best kind.\n\nIts defect (the point on which the defender is very apt to err) is the\nover-extension of the defending force. It is so natural in such a case\nto be drawn on from one point of passage to another, and to miss the\nright point where we ought to stop; but then, if we do not succeed in\nfighting with the whole army united, we miss the intended effect; a\ndefeat in battle, the necessity of retreat, confusion in many ways and\nlosses reduce the army nearly to ruin, even although the resistance has\nnot been pushed to an extremity.\n\nIn saying that the defensive, under the above conditions, should not\nextend his forces widely, that he should be in any case able to\nassemble all his forces on the evening of the day on which the enemy\npasses, enough is said, and it may stand in place of all combinations\nof time, power, and space, things which, in this case, must depend on\nmany local points.\n\nThe battle to which these circumstances lead must have a special\ncharacter\u2014that of the greatest impetuosity on the side of the defender.\nThe feigned passages by which the enemy will keep him for some time in\nuncertainty\u2014will, in general prevent his discovering the real point of\ncrossing a moment too soon. The peculiar advantages of the situation of\nthe defender consist in the disadvantageous situation of the enemy\u2019s\ncorps just immediately in his front; if other corps, having passed at\nother points, menace his flank, he cannot, as in a defensive battle,\ncounteract such movements by vigorous blows from his rear, for that\nwould be to sacrifice the above-mentioned advantage of his situation;\nhe must, therefore, decide the affair in his front before such other\ncorps can arrive and become dangerous, that is, he must attack what he\nhas before him as swiftly and vigorously as possible, and decide all by\nits defeat.\n\nBut the object of _this_ form of river defence can never be the repulse\nof a very greatly superior force, as is conceivable in the direct\ndefence of a large river; for as a rule we have really to deal with the\nbulk of the enemy\u2019s force, and although we do so under favourable\ncircumstances, still it is easy to see the relation between the forces\nmust soon be felt.\n\nThis is the nature of the defence of rivers of a moderate size and deep\nvalleys when the principal masses of the armies are concerned, for in\nrespect to them the considerable resistance which can be offered on the\nridges or scarps of the valley stands no comparison with the\ndisadvantages of a scattered position, and to them a decisive victory\nis a matter of necessity. But if nothing more is wanted but the\nreinforcement of a secondary line of defence which is intended to hold\nout for a short time, and which can calculate on support, then\ncertainly a direct defence of the scarps of the valley, or even of the\nriver bank, may be made; and although the same advantages are not to be\nexpected here as in mountain positions, still the resistance will\nalways last longer than in an ordinary country. Only one circumstance\nmakes this measure very dangerous, if not impossible: it is when the\nriver has many windings and sharp turnings, which is just what is often\nthe case when a river runs in a deep valley, Only look at the course of\nthe Mosel. In a case of its defence, the corps in advance on the\nsalients of the bends would almost inevitably be lost in the event of a\nretreat.\n\nThat a great river allows the same defensive means, the same form of\ndefence, which we have pointed out as best suited for rivers of a\nmoderate size, in connection with the mass of an army, and also under\nmuch more favourable circumstances, is plain of itself. It will come\ninto use more especially when the point with the defender is to gain a\ndecisive victory (Aspern).\n\nThe case of an army drawn up with its front close on a river, or\nstream, or deep valley, in order by that means to command a tactical\nobstacle to the approach to its position, or to strengthen its front,\nis quite a different one, the detailed examination of which belongs to\ntactics. Of the effect of this we shall only say this much, that it is\nfounded on a delusion.\u2014If the cleft in the ground is very considerable,\nthe front of the position becomes absolutely unassailable. Now, as\nthere is no more difficulty in passing round such a position than any\nother, it is just the same as if the defender had himself gone out of\nthe way of the assailant, yet that could hardly be the object of the\nposition. A position of this kind can, therefore, only be advisable\nwhen, as a consequence of its position, it threatens the communications\nof the assailant, so that every deviation by him from the direct road\nis fraught with consequences altogether too serious to be risked.\n\nIn this second form of defence, feigned passages are much more\ndangerous, for the assailant can make them more easily, while, on the\nother hand, the proposition for the defender is, to assemble his whole\narmy at the right point. But the defender is certainly not quite so\nmuch limited for time here, because the advantage of his situation\nlasts until the assailant has massed his whole force, and made himself\nmaster of several crossings; moreover, also, the simulated attack has\nnot the same degree of effect here as in the defence of a cordon, where\nall must be held, and where, therefore, in the application of the\nreserve, it is not merely a question, as in our proposition, where the\nenemy has his principal force, but the much more difficult one, Which\nis the point he will first seek to force?\n\nWith respect to both forms of defence of large and small rivers, we\nmust observe generally, that if they are undertaken in the haste and\nconfusion of a retreat, without preparation, without the removal of all\nmeans of passage, and without an exact knowledge of the country, they\ncannot certainly fulfil what has been here supposed; in most such\ncases, nothing of the kind is to be calculated upon; and therefore it\nwill be always a great error for an army to divide itself over extended\npositions.\n\nAs everything usually miscarries in war, if it is not done upon clear\nconvictions and with the whole will and energy, so a _river defence_\nwill generally end badly when it is only resorted to because we have\nnot the heart to meet the enemy in the open field, and hope that the\nbroad river or the deep valley will stop him. When that is the case,\nthere is so little confidence in the actual situation that both the\ngeneral and his army are usually filled with anxious forebodings, which\nare almost sure to be realized quick enough. A battle in the open field\ndoes not suppose a perfectly equal state of circumstances beforehand,\nlike a duel; and the defender who does not know how to gain for himself\nany advantages, either through the special nature of the defence,\nthrough rapid marches, or by knowledge of the country and freedom of\nmovement, is one whom nothing can save, and least of all will a river\nor its valley be able to help him.\n\nThe third form of defence\u2014by a strong position taken up on the enemy\u2019s\nside of the river\u2014founds its efficacy on the danger in which it places\nthe enemy of having his communications cut by the river, and being thus\nlimited to some bridges. It follows, as a matter of course, that we are\nonly speaking of great rivers with a great volume of water, as these\nalone can lead to such results, whilst a river which is merely in a\ndeep ravine usually affords such a number of passages that all danger\nof the above disappears.\n\nBut the position of the defensive must be very strong, almost\nunassailable; otherwise he would just meet the enemy half way, and give\nup his advantages. But if it is of such strength that the enemy\nresolves not to attack it, he will, under certain circumstances, be\nconfined thereby to the same bank with the defender. If the assailant\ncrosses, he exposes his communications; but certainly, at the same\ntime, he threatens ours. Here, as in all cases in which one army passes\nby another, the great point is, whose communications, by their number,\nsituation, and other circumstances, are the best secured, and which has\nalso, in other respects, most to lose, therefore can be outbid by his\nopponent; lastly, which possesses still in his army the most power of\nvictory upon which he can depend in an extreme case. The influence of\nthe river merely amounts to this, that it augments the danger of such a\nmovement for both parties, as both are dependent on bridges. Now, in so\nfar as we can assume that, according to the usual course of things, the\npassage of the defender, as well as of his dep\u00f4ts of all kinds, are\nbetter secured by fortresses than those of the offensive, in so far is\nsuch a defence conceivable, and one which might be substituted for the\ndirect defence when circumstances are not favourable to that form.\nCertainly then the river is not defended by the army, nor the army by\nthe river, but by the connection between the two the country is\ndefended, which is the main point.\n\nAt the same time it must be granted that this mode of defence, without\na decisive blow, and resembling the state of tension of two electric\ncurrents, of which the atmospheres only are as yet in contact, cannot\nstop any very powerful impulsive force. It might be applicable against\neven a great superiority of force on the side of the enemy, if their\narmy is commanded by a cautious general, wanting in decision, and never\ndisposed to push forward with energy; it might also answer when a kind\nof oscillation towards equality between the contending forces has\npreviously arisen, and nothing but small advantages are looked for on\neither side. But if we have to deal with superior forces, led by a bold\ngeneral, we are upon a dangerous course, very close to an abyss.\n\nThis form of defence looks so bold, and at the same time so scientific,\nthat it might be called the elegant; but as elegance easily merges into\nfolly, and as it is not so easily excused in war as in society,\ntherefore we have had as yet few instances of this elegant art. From\nthis third mode a special means of assistance for the first two forms\nis developed, that is, by the permanent occupation of a bridge and a\n_t\u00eate du pont_ to keep up a constant threat of crossing.\n\nBesides the object of an absolute defence with the main body, each of\nthe three modes of defence may also have that of a _feigned defence_.\n\nThis show of a resistance, which it is not intended really to offer, is\nan act which is combined with many other measures, and fundamentally\nwith every position which is anything more than a camp of route; but\nthe feigned defence of a great river becomes a complete stratagem in\nthis way, that it is necessary to adopt actually more or less a number\nof measures of detail, and that its action is usually on a greater\nscale and of longer duration than that of any other; for the act of\npassing a great river in sight of an army is always an important step\nfor the assailant, one over which he often ponders long, or which he\npostpones to a more favourable moment.\n\nFor such a feigned defence it is therefore requisite that the main army\nshould divide and post itself along the river, (much in the same manner\nas for a real defence); but as the intention of a mere demonstration\nshows that circumstances are not favourable enough for a real defence,\ntherefore, from that measure as it always occasions a more or less\nextended and scattered disposition, the danger of serious loss may very\neasily arise if the corps should get engaged in a real resistance, even\nif not carried to an extremity; it would then be in the true sense a\nhalf measure. In a demonstration of defence, therefore, arrangement\nmust be made for a sure concentration of the army at a point\nconsiderably (perhaps several days\u2019 march) in rear, and the defence\nshould not be carried beyond what is consistent with this arrangement.\n\nIn order to make our views plainer, and to show the importance of such\na defensive demonstration, let us refer to the end of the campaign of\n1813. Buonaparte repassed the Rhine with forty or fifty thousand men.\nTo attempt to defend this river with such a force at all points where\nthe Allies, according to the direction of their forces, might easily\npass, that is, between Manheim and Nimeguen, would have been to attempt\nan impossibility. The only idea which Buonaparte could therefore\nentertain was to offer his first real resistance somewhere on the\nFrench Meuse, where he could make his appearance with his army in some\nmeasure reinforced. Had he at once withdrawn his forces to that point,\nthe Allies would have followed close at his heels; had he placed his\narmy in cantonments for rest behind the Rhine, the same thing must have\ntaken place almost as soon, for at the least show of desponding caution\non his part, the Allies would have sent over swarms of Cossacks and\nother light troops in pursuit, and, if that measure produced good\nresults, other corps would have followed. The French corps had\ntherefore nothing for it but to take steps to defend the Rhine in\nearnest. As Buonaparte could foresee that this defence must end in\nnothing whenever, the Allies seriously undertook to cross the river, it\nmay therefore be regarded in the light of a mere demonstration, in\nwhich the French corps incurred hardly any danger, as their point of\nconcentration lay on the Upper Moselle. Only Macdonald, who, as is\nknown, was at Nimeguen with twenty thousand men, committed a mistake in\ndeferring his retreat till fairly compelled to retire, for this delay\nprevented his joining Buonaparte before the battle of Brienne, as the\nretreat was not forced on him until after the arrival of Winzurgerode\u2019s\ncorps in January. This defensive demonstration on the Rhine, therefore,\nproduced the result of checking the Allies in their advance, and\ninduced them to postpone the crossing of the river until their\nreinforcements arrived, which did not take place for six weeks. These\nsix weeks were of infinite value to Buonaparte. Without this defensive\ndemonstration on the Rhine, Paris would have become the next immediate\nobject after the victory of Leipsic, and it would have been impossible\nfor the French to have given battle on that side of their capital.\n\nIn a river defence of the second class, therefore, in that of rivers of\na smaller size, such demonstrations may also be used, but they will\ngenerally be less effectual, because mere attempts to cross are in such\na case easier, and therefore the spell is sooner broken.\n\nIn the third kind of river defence, a demonstration would in all\nprobability be still less effectual, and produce no more result than\nthat of the occupation of any other temporary position.\n\nLastly, the two first forms of defence are very well suited to give a\nchain of outposts, or any other defensive line (cordon) established for\na secondary object, or to a corps of observation, much greater and more\nreliable strength than it would have without the river. In all these\ncases the question is limited to a relative resistance, and that must\nnaturally be considerably strengthened by such a great natural\nobstacle. At the same time, we must not think only of the relative\nquantity of time gained by the resistance in fight in a case of this\nsort, but also of the many anxieties which such undertakings usually\nexcite in the mind of the enemy, and which in ninety-nine cases out of\na hundred lead to his giving up his plans if not urged or pressed by\nnecessity.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. Defence of Streams and Rivers (_continued_)\n\nWe have still to add something respecting the influence of streams and\nrivers on the defence of a country, even when they are not themselves\ndefended.\n\nEvery important river, with its main valley and its adjacent valleys,\nforms a very considerable obstacle in a country, and in that way it is,\ntherefore, advantageous to defence in general; but its peculiar\ninfluence admits of being more particularly specified in its principal\neffects.\n\nFirst we must distinguish whether it flows parallel to the frontier,\nthat is, the general strategic front, or at an oblique or a right angle\nto it. In the case of the parallel direction we must observe the\ndifference between having our own army or that of the enemy behind it,\nand in both cases again the distance between it and the army.\n\nAn army on the defensive, having behind it a large river within easy\nreach (but not less than a day\u2019s march), and on that river an adequate\nnumber of secure crossings, is unquestionably in a much stronger\nsituation than it would be without the river; for if it loses a little\nin freedom of movement by the requisite care for the security of the\ncrossings, still it gains much more by the security of its strategic\nrear, that means chiefly of its lines of communication. In all this we\nallude to a defence in _our own country;_ for in the enemy\u2019s country,\nalthough his army might be before us, we should still have always more\nor less to apprehend his appearance behind us on the other side of the\nriver, and then the river, involving as it does narrow defiles in\nroads, would be more disadvantageous than otherwise in its effect on\nour situation. The further the river is behind the army, the less\nuseful it will be, and at certain distances its influence disappears\naltogether.\n\nIf an advancing army has to leave a river in its rear, the river cannot\nbe otherwise than prejudicial to its movements, for it restricts the\ncommunications of the army to a few single passages. When Prince Henry\nmarched against the Russians on the right bank of the Oder near\nBreslau, he had plainly a _point d\u2019appui_ in the Oder flowing behind\nhim at a day\u2019s march; on the other hand, when the Russians under\nCznernitschef passed the Oder subsequently, they were in a very\nembarrassing situation, just through the risk of losing their line of\nretreat, which was limited to one bridge.\n\nIf a river crosses the theatre of war more or less at a right angle\nwith the strategic front, then the advantage is again on the side of\nthe defensive; for, in the first place, there are generally a number of\ngood positions leaning on the river, and covered in front by the\ntransverse valleys connected with the principal valley (like the Elbe\nfor the Prussians in the Seven Years\u2019 War); secondly, the assailant\nmust leave one side of the river or the other unoccupied, or he must\ndivide his forces; and such division cannot fail to be in favour again\nof the defensive, because he will be in possession of more well secured\npassages than the assailant. We need only cast a glance over the whole\nSeven Years\u2019 War, to be convinced that the Oder and Elbe were very\nuseful to Frederick the Great in the defence of his theatre of war\n(namely Silesia, Saxony and the Mark), and consequently a great\nimpediment to the conquest of these provinces by the Austrians and\nRussians, although there was no real defence of those rivers in the\nwhole Seven Years\u2019 War, and their course is mostly, as connected with\nthe enemy, at an oblique or a right angle rather than parallel with the\nfront.\n\nIt is only the convenience of a river as a means of transport, when its\ncourse is more or less in a perpendicular direction, which can, in\ngeneral, be advantageous to the assailant; in that respect it may be so\nfor this reason, that as he has the longer line of communication, and,\ntherefore, the greater difficulty in the transport of all he requires,\nwater carriage may relieve him of a great deal of trouble and prove\nvery useful. The defender, on his side, certainly has it in his power\nto close the navigation within his own frontier by fortresses; still\neven by that means the advantages which the river affords the assailant\nwill not be lost so far as regards its course up to that frontier. But\nif we reflect upon the fact that many rivers are often not navigable,\neven where they are of no unimportant breadth as respects other\nmilitary relations, that others are not navigable at all seasons, that\nthe ascent against the stream is tedious, that the winding of a river\noften doubles its length, that the chief communications between\ncountries now are high roads, and that now more than ever the wants of\nan army are supplied from the country adjacent to the scene of its\noperations, and not by carriage from distant parts,\u2014we can well see\nthat the use of a river does not generally play such a prominent part\nin the subsistence of troops as is usually represented in books, and\nthat its influence on the march of events is therefore very remote and\nuncertain.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX. A. Defence of Swamps\n\nVery large wide swamps, such as the Bourtang Moor in North Germany, are\nso uncommon that it is not worth while to lose time over them; but we\nmust not forget that certain lowlands and marshy banks of small rivers\nare more common, and form very considerable obstacles of ground which\nmay be, and often have been, used for defensive purposes.\n\nMeasures for their defence are certainly very like those for the\ndefence of rivers, at the same time there are some peculiarties to be\nspecially noticed. The first and principal one is, that a marsh which\nexcept on the causeway is impracticable for infantry is much more\ndifficult to cross than any river; for, in the first place, a causeway\nis not so soon built as a bridge; secondly, there are no means at hand\nby which the troops to cover the construction of the dyke or causeway\ncan be sent across. No one would begin to build a bridge without using\nsome of the boats to send over an advanced guard in the first instance;\nbut in the case of a morass no similar assistance can be employed; the\neasiest way to make a crossing for infantry over a morass is by means\nof planks, but when the morass is of some width, this is a much more\ntedious process than the crossing of the first boats on a river. If\nnow, besides, there is in the middle of the morass a river which cannot\nbe passed without a bridge, the crossing of the first detachment of\ntroops becomes a still more difficult affair, for although single\npassengers may get across on boards, the heavy material required for\nbridge building cannot be so transported. This difficulty on many\noccasions may be insurmountable.\n\nA second peculiarity of a swamp is, that the means used to cross cannot\nbe completely removed like those, used for passing a river; bridges may\nbe broken, or so completely destroyed that they can never be used\nagain; the most that can be done with dykes is to cut them, which is\nnot doing much. If there is a river in the middle, the bridge can of\ncourse be taken away, but the whole passage will not by that means be\ndestroyed in the same degree as that of a large river by the\ndestruction of a bridge. The natural consequence is that dykes which\nexist must always be occupied in force and strenuously defended if we\ndesire to derive any general advantage from the morass.\n\nOn the one hand, therefore, we are compelled to adopt a local defence,\nand on the other, such a defence is favoured by the difficulty of\npassing at other parts. From these two peculiarities the result is,\nthat the defence of a swamp must be more local and passive than that of\na river.\n\nIt follows from this that we must be stronger in a relative degree than\nin the direct defence of a river, consequently that the line of defence\nmust not be of great length, especially in cultivated countries, where\nthe number of passages, even under the most favourable circumstances\nfor defence, is still very great.\n\nIn this respect, therefore, swamps are inferior to great rivers, and\nthis is a point of great importance, for all local defence is illusory\nand dangerous to an extreme. But if we reflect that such swamps and low\ngrounds generally have a breadth with which that of the largest rivers\nin Europe bears no comparison, and that consequently a post stationed\nfor the defence of a passage is never in danger of being overpowered by\nthe fire from the other side, that the effects of its own fire over a\nlong narrow dyke is greatly increased, and that the time required to\npass such a defile, perhaps a quarter or half a mile long, is much\nlonger than would suffice to pass an ordinary bridge: if we consider\nall this, we must admit that such low lands and morasses, if means of\ncrossing are not too numerous, belong to the strongest lines of defence\nwhich can be formed.\n\nAn indirect defence, such as we made ourselves acquainted with in the\ncase of streams and rivers, in which obstacles of ground are made use\nof to bring on a great battle under advantageous circumstances, is\ngenerally quite as applicable to morasses.\n\nThe third method of a river-defence by means of a position on the\nenemy\u2019s side would be too hazardous on account of the toilsome nature\nof the crossing.\n\nIt is extremely dangerous to venture on the defence of such morasses,\nsoft meadows, bogs, etc., as are not quite impassable beyond the dykes.\nOne single line of crossing discovered by the enemy is sufficient to\npierce the whole line of defence which, in case of a serious\nresistance, is always attended with great loss to the defender.\n\n\n\nB. Inundations\n\nNow we have still to consider inundations. As defensive means and also\nas phenomena in the natural world they have unquestionably the nearest\nresemblance to morasses.\n\nThey are not common certainly; perhaps Holland is the only country in\nEurope where they constitute a phenomenon which makes them worth notice\nin connection with our object; but just that country, on account of the\nremarkable campaigns of 1672 and 1787, as well as on account of its\nimportant relation in itself to both France and Germany, obliges us to\ndevote some consideration to this matter.\n\nThe character of these Dutch inundations differs from ordinary swampy\nand impassable wet low lands in the following respects:\n\n1. The soil itself is dry and consists either of dry meadows or of\ncultivated fields.\n\n2. For purposes of irrigation or of drainage, a number of small ditches\nof greater or loss depth and breadth intersect the country in such a\nway that they may be seen running in lines in parallel directions.\n\n3. Larger canals, inclosed by dykes and intended for irrigation,\ndrainage, and transit of vessels, run through the country in all\npossible directions and are of such a size that they can only be passed\non bridges.\n\n4. The level of the ground throughout the whole district subject to\ninundation, lies perceptibly under the level of the sea, therefore, of\ncourse, under that of the canals.\n\n5. The consequence of this is, that by means of cutting the dams,\nclosing and opening the sluices, the whole country can be laid under\nwater, so that there are no dry roads except on the tops of the dykes,\nall others being either entirely under water or, at least, so soaked\nthat they become no longer fit for use. Now, if even the inundation is\nonly three or four feet deep, so that, perhaps, for short distances it\nmight be waded through, still even that is made impossible on account\nof the smaller ditches mentioned under No. 2, which are not visible. It\nis only where these ditches have a corresponding direction, so that we\ncan move between two of them without crossing either, that the\ninundation does not constitute in effect an absolute bar to all\ncommunication. It is easy to conceive that this exception to the\ngeneral obstruction can only be for short distances, and, therefore,\ncan only be used for tactical purposes of an entirely special\ncharacter.\n\nFrom all this we deduce\n\n1. That the assailant\u2019s means of moving are limited to a more or less\nsmall number of practicable lines, which run along very narrow dykes,\nand usually have a wet ditch on the right and left, consequently form\nvery long defiles.\n\n2. That every defensive preparation upon such a dam may be easily\nstrengthened to such a degree as to become impregnable.\n\n3. But that, because the defensive is so hemmed in, he must confine\nhimself to the most passive resistance as respects each isolated point,\nand consequently must look for his safety entirely from passive\nresistance.\n\n4. That in such a country it is not a system of a single defensive\nline, closing the country like a simple barrier, but that as in every\ndirection the same obstacle to movement exists, and the same security\nfor flanks may be found, new posts may incessantly be formed, and in\nthis manner any portion of the first defensive line, if lost, may be\nreplaced by a new piece. We may say that the number of combinations\nhere, like those on a chessboard, are infinite.\n\n5. But while this general condition of a country is only conceivable\nalong with the supposition of a high degree of cultivation and a dense\npopulation, it follows of itself that the number of passages, and\ntherefore the number of posts required or their defence, must be very\ngreat in comparison to other strategetic dispositions; from which again\nwe have, as a consequence, that such a defensive line must not be long.\n\nThe principal line of defence in Holland is from Naarden on the Zuyder\nZee (the greater part of the way behind the Vecht), to Gorcum on the\nWaal, that is properly to the Biesbosch, its extent being about eight\nmiles. For the defence of this line a force of 25,000 to 30,000 was\nemployed in 1672, and again in 1787. If we could reckon with certainty\nupon an invincible resistance, the results would certainly be very\ngreat, at least for the provinces of Holland lying behind that line.\n\nIn 1672 the line actually withstood very superior forces led by great\ngenerals, first Cond\u00e9, and afterwards Luxembourg, who had under their\ncommand 40,000 to 50,000 men, and yet would not assault, preferring to\nwait for the winter, which did not prove severe enough. On the other\nhand, the resistance which was made on this first line in 1787 amounted\nto nothing, and even that which was made by a second line much shorter,\nbetween the Zuyder Zee and the lake of Haarlem, although somewhat more\neffective, was overcome by the Duke of Brunswick in one day, through a\nvery skilful tactical disposition well adapted to the locality, and\nthis although the Prussian force actually engaged in the attack was\nlittle, if at all, superior in numbers to the troops guarding the\nlines.\n\nThe different result in the two cases is to be attributed to the\ndifference in the supreme command. In the year 1672 the Dutch were\nsurprised by Louis XIV., while everything was on a peace establishment,\nin which, as is well known, there breathed very little military spirit\nas far as concerned land forces. For that reason the greater number of\nthe fortresses were deficient in all articles of material and\nequipment, garrisoned only by weak bodies of hired troops, and defended\nby governors who were either native-born incapables, or treacherous\nforeigners. Thus all the Brandenburg fortresses on the Rhine,\ngarrisoned by Dutch, as well as all their own places situated to the\neast of the line of defence above described, except Groningen, very\nsoon fell into the hands of the French, and for the most part without\nany real defence. And in the conquest of this great number of places\nconsisted the chief exertions of the French army, 150,000 strong, at\nthat time.\n\nBut when, after the murder of the brothers De Witt, in August 1672, the\nPrince of Orange came to the head of affairs, bringing unity to the\nmeasures for national defence, there was still time to close the\ndefensive line above-mentioned, and all the measures then adopted\nharmonised so well with each other that neither Cond\u00e9 nor Luxembourg,\nwho commanded the French armies left in Holland after the departure of\nthe two armies under Turenne and Louis in person, would venture to\nattempt anything against the separate posts.\n\nIn the year 1787 all was different. It was not the Republic of seven\nunited provinces, but only the province of Holland which had to resist\nthe invasion. The conquest of all the fortresses, which had been the\nprincipal object in 1672, was therefore not the question; the defence\nwas confined at once to the line we have described. But the assailant\nthis time, instead of 150,000 men, had only 25,000, and was no mighty\nsovereign of a great country adjoining Holland, but the subordinate\ngeneral of a distant prince, himself by no means independent in many\nrespects. The people in Holland, like those everywhere else at that\ntime, were divided into two parties, but the republican spirit in\nHolland was decidedly predominant, and had at the same time attained\neven to a kind of enthusiastic excitement. Under these circumstances\nthe resistance in the year 1787 ought to have ensured at least as great\nresults as that of 1672. But there was one important difference, which\nis, that in the year 1787 unity of command was entirely wanting. What\nin 1672 had been left to the wise, skilful, and energetic guidance of\nthe Prince of Orange, was entrusted to a so called Defence Commission\nin 1787, which although it included in its number men of energy, was\nnot in a position to infuse into its work the requisite unity of\nmeasures, and to inspire others with that confidence which was wanted\nto prevent the whole instrument from proving imperfect and inefficient\nin use.\n\nWe have dwelt for a moment on this example, in order to give more\ndistinctness to the conception of this defensive measure, and at the\nsame time to show the difference in the effects produced, according as\nmore or less unity and sequence prevail in the direction of the whole.\n\nAlthough the organisation and method of defence of such a defensive\nline are tactical subjects, still, in connection with the latter, which\nis the nearest allied to strategy, we cannot omit to make an\nobservation to which the campaign of 1787 gives occasion.\n\nWe think, namely, that however passive the defence must naturally be at\neach point in a line of this kind, still an offensive action from some\none point of the line is not impossible, and may not be unproductive of\ngood results if the enemy, as was the case in 1787, is not decidedly\nvery superior. For although such an attack must be executed by means of\ndykes, and on that account cannot certainly have the advantage of much\nfreedom of movement or of any great impulsive force, nevertheless, it\nis impossible for the offensive side to occupy all the dykes and roads\nwhich he does not require for his own purposes, and therefore the\ndefensive with his better knowledge of the country, and being in\npossession of the strong points, should be able by some of the\nunoccupied dykes to effect a real flank attack against the columns of\nthe assailant, or to cut them off from their sources of supply. If now,\non the other hand, we reflect for a moment on the constrained position\nin which the assailant is placed, how much more dependent he is on his\ncommunications than in almost any other conceivable case, we may well\nimagine that every sally on the part of the defensive side which has\nthe remotest possibility of success must at once as a demonstration be\nmost effective. We doubt very much if the prudent and cautious duke of\nBrunswick would have ventured to approach Amsterdam if the Dutch had\nonly made such a demonstration, from Utrecht for instance.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI. Defence of Forests\n\nAbove all things we must distinguish thick tangled and impassable\nforests from extensive woods under a certain degree of culture, which\nare partly quite clear, partly intersected by numerous roads.\n\nWhenever the object is to form a defensive line, the latter should be\nleft in rear or avoided as much as possible. The defensive requires\nmore than the assailant to see clearly round him, partly because, as a\nrule, he is the weaker, partly because the natural advantages of his\nposition cause him to develop his plans later than the assailant. If he\nshould place a woody district before him he would be fighting like a\nblind man against one with his eyesight. If he should place himself in\nthe middle of the wood then both would be blind, but that equality of\ncondition is just what would not answer the natural requirements of the\ndefender.\n\nSuch a wooded country can therefore not be brought into any favourable\nconnection with the defensive except it is kept in rear of the\ndefender\u2019s army, so as to conceal from the enemy all that takes place\nbehind that army, and at the same time to be available as an assistance\nto cover and facilitate the retreat.\n\nAt present we only speak of forests in level country, for where the\ndecided mountain character enters into combination, its influence\nbecomes predominant over tactical and strategic measures, and we have\nalready treated of those subjects elsewhere.\n\nBut impassable forests, that is, such as can only be traversed on\ncertain roads, afford advantages in an indirect defence similar to\nthose which the defence derives from mountains for bringing on a battle\nunder favourable circumstances; the army can await the enemy behind the\nwood in a more or less concentrated position with a view to falling on\nhim the moment he debouches from the road defiles. Such a forest\nresembles mountain in its effects more than a river: for it affords, it\nis true, only one very long and difficult defile, but it is in respect\nto the retreat rather advantageous than otherwise.\n\nBut a direct defence of forests, let them be ever so impracticable, is\na very hazardous piece of work for even the thinnest chain of outposts;\nfor abattis are only imaginary barriers, and no wood is so completely\nimpassable that it cannot be penetrated in a hundred places by small\ndetachments, and these, in their relation to a chain of defensive\nposts, may be likened to the first drops of water which ooze through a\nroof and are soon followed by a general rush of water.\n\nMuch more important is the influence of great forests of every kind in\nconnection with the arming of a nation; they are undoubtedly the true\nelement for such levies; if, therefore, the strategic plan of defence\ncan be so arranged that the enemy\u2019s communications pass through great\nforests, then, by that means, another mighty lever is brought into use\nin support of the work of defence.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX. The Cordon\n\nThe term cordon is used to denote every defensive plan which is\nintended directly to cover a whole district of country by a line of\nposts in connection with each other. We say _directly_, for several\ncorps of a great army posted in line with each other might protect a\nlarge district of country from invasion without forming a cordon; but\nthen this protection would not be direct, but through the effect of\ncombinations and movements.\n\nIt is evident at a glance that such a long defensive line as that must\nbe, which is to cover an extensive district of country directly, can\nonly have a very small degree of defensive stamina. Even when very\nlarge bodies of troops occupy the lines this would be the case if they\nwere attacked by corresponding masses. The object of a cordon can\ntherefore only be to resist a weak blow, whether that the weakness\nproceeds from a feeble will or the smallness of the force employed.\n\nWith this view the wall of China was built: a protection against the\ninroads of Tartars. This is the intention of all lines and frontier\ndefences of the European States bordering on Asia and Turkey. Applied\nin this way the cordon system is neither absurd nor does it appear\nunsuitable to its purpose. Certainly it is not sufficient to stop all\ninroads, but it will make them more difficult and therefore of less\nfrequent occurrence, and this is a point of considerable importance\nwhere relations subsist with people like those of Asia, whose passions\nand habits have a perpetual tendency to war.\n\nNext to this class of cordons come the lines, which, in the wars of\nmodern times have been formed between European States, such as the\nFrench lines on the Rhine and in the Netherlands. These were originally\nformed only with a view to protect a country against inroads made for\nthe purpose of levying contributions or living at the expense of the\nenemy. They are, therefore, only intended to check minor operations,\nand consequently it is also meant that they should be defended by small\nbodies of troops. But, of course, in the event of the enemy\u2019s principal\nforce taking its direction against these lines, the defender must also\nuse his principal force in their defence, an event by no means\nconducive to the best defensive arrangements. On account of this\ndisadvantage and because the protection against incursions in temporary\nwar is quite a minor object, by which through the very existence of\nthese lines an excessive expenditure of troops may easily be caused,\ntheir formation is looked upon in our day as a pernicious measure. The\nmore power and energy thrown into the prosecution of the war the more\nuseless and dangerous this means becomes.\n\nLastly, all very extended lines of outposts covering the quarters of an\narmy and intended to offer a certain amount of resistance come under\nthe head of cordons.\n\nThis defensive measure is chiefly designed as an impediment to raids,\nand other such minor expeditions directed against single cantonments,\nand for this purpose it may be quite sufficient if favoured by the\ncountry. Against an advance of the main body of the enemy the\nopposition offered can be only relative, that is, intended to gain\ntime: but as this gain of time will be but inconsiderable in most\ncases, this object may be regarded as a very minor consideration in the\nestablishment of these lines. The assembling and advance of the enemy\u2019s\narmy itself can never take place so unobservedly that the defender gets\nhis first information of it through his outposts; when such is the case\nhe is much to be pitied.\n\nConsequently, in this case also, the cordon is only intended to resist\nthe attack of a weak force, and the object, therefore, in this and in\nthe other two cases is not at variance with the means.\n\nBut that an army formed for the defence of a country should spread\nitself out in a long line of defensive posts opposite to the enemy,\nthat it should disperse itself in a cordon form, seems to be so absurd\nthat we must seek to discover the circumstances and motives which lead\nto and accompany such a proceeding.\n\nEvery position in a mountainous country, even if taken up with the view\nof a battle with the whole force united, is and must necessarily be\nmore extended than a position in a level country. It _may be_ because\nthe aid of the ground augments very much the force of the resistance;\nit _must be_ because a wider basis of retreat is required, as we have\nshown in the chapter on mountain defences. But if there is no near\nprospect of a battle, if it is probable that the enemy will remain in\nhis position opposite to us for some time without undertaking anything\nunless tempted by some very favourable opportunity which may present\nitself (the usual state of things in most wars formerly), then it is\nalso natural not to limit ourselves merely to the occupation of so much\ncountry as is absolutely necessary, but to hold as much right or left\nas is consistent with the security of the army, by which we obtain many\nadvantages, as we shall presently show. In open countries with plenty\nof communications, this object may be effected to a greater extent than\nin mountains, through the principle of _movement_, and for that reason\nthe extension and dispersion of the troops is less necessary in an open\ncountry; it would also be much more dangerous there on account of the\ninferior capability of resistance of each part.\n\nBut in mountains where all occupation of ground is more dependent on\nlocal defence, where relief cannot so soon be afforded to a point\nmenaced, and where, when once the enemy has got possession of a point,\nit is more difficult to dislodge him by a force slightly superior\u2014in\nmountains, under these circumstances, we shall always come to a form of\nposition which, if not strictly speaking a cordon, still approaches\nvery near to it, being a line of defensive posts. From such a\ndisposition, consisting of several detached posts, to the cordon\nsystem, there is still certainly a considerable step, but it is one\nwhich generals, nevertheless, often take without being aware of it,\nbeing drawn on from one step to another. First, the covering and the\npossession of the country is the object of the dispersion; afterwards\nit is the security of the army itself. Every commander of a post\ncalculates the advantage which may be derived from this or that point\nconnected with the approach to his position on the right or the left,\nand thus the whole progresses insensibly from one degree of subdivision\nto another.\n\nA cordon war, therefore, carried on by the principal force of an army,\nis not to be considered a form of war designedly chosen with a view to\nstopping every blow which the enemy\u2019s forces might attempt, but a\nsituation which the army is drawn into in the pursuit of a very\ndifferent object, namely, the holding and covering the country against\nan enemy who has no decisive undertaking in view. Such a situation must\nalways be looked upon as a mistake; and the motives through which\ngenerals have been lured by degrees into allowing one small post after\nanother, are contemptible in connection with the object of a large\narmy; this point of view shows, at all events, the possibility of such\na mistake. That it is really an error, namely, a mistaken appreciation\nof our own position, and that of the enemy is sometimes not observed,\nand it is spoken of as an erroneous _system_. But this same system,\nwhen it is pursued with advantage, or, at all events, without causing\ndamage, is quietly approved. Every one praises the _faultless_\ncampaigns of Prince Henry in the Seven Years\u2019 War, because they have\nbeen pronounced so by the king, although these campaigns exhibit the\nmost decided and most incomprehensible examples of chains of posts so\nextended that they may just with as much propriety be called cordons as\nany that ever were. We may completely justify these positions by\nsaying, the prince knew his opponent; he knew that he had no\nenterprises of a decisive character to apprehend from that quarter, and\nas the object of his position besides was to occupy always as much\nterritory as possible, he therefore carried out that object as far as\ncircumstances in any way permitted. If the prince had once been\nunfortunate with one of these cobwebs, and had met with a severe loss,\nwe should not say that he had pursued a faulty system of warfare, but\nthat he had been mistaken about a measure and had applied it to a case\nto which it was not suited.\n\nWhile we thus seek to explain how the cordon system, as it is called,\nmay be resorted to by the principal force in a theatre in war, and how\nit may even be a judicious and useful measure, and, therefore, far from\nbeing an absurdity, we must, at the same time, acknowledge that there\nappear to have been instances where generals or their staff have\noverlooked the real meaning or object of a cordon system, and assumed\nits relative value to be a general one; conceiving it to be really\nsuited to afford protection against every kind of attack, instances,\ntherefore, where there was no mistaken application of the measure but a\ncomplete misunderstanding of its nature; we shall further allow that\nthis very absurdity amongst others seems to have taken place in the\ndefence of the Vosges by the Austrian and Prussian armies in 1793 and\n1794.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII. Key to the Country\n\nThere is no theoretical idea in the art of war which has played such a\npart in criticism as that we are now entering upon. It is the \u201cgreat\nwar steed\u201d in all accounts of battles and campaigns; the most frequent\npoint of view in all arguments, and one of those fragments of\nscientific form with which critics make a show of learning. And yet the\nconception embodied in it has never yet been established, nor has it\never been clearly explained.\n\nWe shall try to ascertain its real meaning, and then see how far it can\nbe made available for practical use.\n\nWe treat of it here because the defence of mountains, river defences,\nas well as the conceptions of strong and entrenched camps with which it\nclosely connects itself, required to have precedence.\n\nThe indefinite confused conception which is concealed behind this\nancient military metaphor has sometimes signified the most exposed part\nof a country at other times the strongest.\n\nIf there is any spot without the _possession of which no one dare\nventure to penetrate into an enemy\u2019s country_ that may, with propriety,\nbe called the key of that country. But this simple, though certainly at\nthe same time also, barren notion has not satisfied theorists, and they\nhave amplified it, and under the term key of a country imagined\n_points_ which _decide upon the possession of the whole country._\n\nWhen the Russians wanted to advance into the Crimean peninsula, they\nwere obliged to make themselves masters of the isthmus of Perekop and\nits lines, not so much to gain an entrance generally\u2014for Lascy turned\nit twice (1737 and 1738)\u2014but to be able to establish themselves with\ntolerable security in the Crimea. That is very simple, but we gain very\nlittle in this through the conception of a key-point. But if it might\nbe said, Whoever has possession of the district of Langres commands all\nFrance as far as Paris\u2014that is to say, it only rests with himself to\ntake possession\u2014that is plainly a very different thing, something of\nmuch higher importance. According to the first kind of conception the\npossession of the country cannot be thought of without the possession\nof the point which we have called key; that is a thing which is\nintelligible to the most ordinary capacity: but according to the second\nkind of conception, the possession of the point which we have called\nkey, cannot be imagined without the possession of the country following\nas a necessary consequence; that is plainly, something marvellous,\ncommon sense is no longer sufficient to grasp this, the magic of the\noccult sciences must be called into requisition. This cabala came into\nexistence in works published fifty years ago, and reached its zenith at\nthe end of the last century; and notwithstanding the irresistible\nforce, certainty and distinctness with which Buonaparte\u2019s method of\nconducting war carried conviction generally, this cabala has,\nnevertheless, still managed, we say, to spin out the thread of its\ntenacious existence through the medium of books.\n\n(Setting aside for a moment _our_ conception of the key-point) it is\nself-evident that in every country there are points of _commanding_\nimportance, where several roads meet, where our means of subsistence\nmay be conveniently collected, which have the advantage of being\ncentrally situated with reference to other important points, the\npossession of which in short meets many requirements and affords many\nadvantages. Now, if generals wishing to express the importance of such\na point by one word have called it the _key of the land_, it would be\npedantic affectation to take offence at their using that term; on the\ncontrary we should rather say the term is very expressive and pleasing.\nBut if we try to convert this mere flower of speech into the germ of a\nsystem branching out like a tree into many ramifications, common sense\nrises in opposition, and demands that the expression should be\nrestricted to its true value.\n\nIn order to develop a system out of the expression, it was necessary to\nresort to something more distinct and absolute than the practical, but\ncertainly very indefinite, meaning attaching to the term in the\nnarrations of generals when speaking of their military enterprises. And\nfrom amongst all its various relations, that of high ground was chosen.\n\nWhere a road traverses a mountain ridge, we thank heaven when we get to\nthe top and have only to descend. This feeling so natural to a single\ntraveller is still more so in the case of an army All difficulties seem\nto be overcome, and so they are indeed in most instances; we find that\nthe descent is easy, and we are conscious of a kind of feeling of\nsuperiority over any one who would stop us; we have an extensive view\nover the country, and command it with a look beforehand. Thus the\nhighest point on a road over a mountain is always considered to possess\na decisive importance, and it does in fact in the majority of cases,\nbut by no means in all. Such points are very often described in the\ndespatches of generals by the name of key-points; but certainly again\nin a somewhat different and generally in a more restricted sense. This\nidea has been the starting point of a false theory (of which, perhaps,\nLloyd may be regarded as the founder); and on this account, elevated\npoints from which several roads descend into the adjacent country, came\nto be regarded as the keypoints of the country\u2014as points which\n_command_ the country. It was natural that this view should amalgamate\nitself with one very nearly connected with it, that of a _systematic\ndefence of mountains_, and that the matter should thus be driven still\nfurther into the regions of the illusory; added to which many tactical\nelements connected with the defence of mountains came into play, and\nthus the idea of the highest _point in the road_ was soon abandoned,\nand the highest point generally of the whole mountain system, that is\nthe point of the _watershed_, was substituted for it as the key of the\ncountry.\n\nNow just at that time, that is the latter half of the preceding\ncentury, more definite ideas on the forms given to the surface of the\nearth through aqueous action became current; thus natural science lent\na hand to the theory of war by this geological system, and then every\nbarrier of practical truth was broken through, and reasoning floated in\nthe illusory system of a geological analogy. In consequence of this,\nabout the end of the eighteenth century we heard, or rather we _read_,\nof nothing but the sources of the Rhine and Danube. It is true that\nthis nuisance prevailed mostly in books, for only a small portion of\nbook wisdom ever reaches the real world, and the more foolish a theory\nthe less it will attain to practice; but this of which we are now\nspeaking has not been unproductive of injury to Germany by its\npractical effects, therefore we are not fighting with a windmill, in\nproof of which we shall quote two examples; first, the important but\nvery scientific campaigns of the Prussian army, 1793 and 1794 in the\nVosges, the theoretical key to which will be found in the works of\nGravert and Massenbach; secondly, the campaign of 1814, when, on the\nprinciple of the same theory, an army of 200,000 men was led by the\nnose through Switzerland on to the plateau of Langres as it is called.\n\nBut a high point in a country from which all its waters flow, is\ngenerally nothing more than a high point; and all that in exaggeration\nand false application of ideas, true in themselves, was written at the\nend of the eighteenth and commencement of the nineteenth centuries,\nabout its influence on military events, is completely imaginary. If the\nRhine and Danube and all the six rivers of Germany had their common\nsource on the top of one mountain, that mountain would not on that\naccount have any claim to any greater military value than being suited\nfor the position of a trigonometrical point. For a signal tower it\nwould be less useful, still less so for a vidette, and for a whole army\nworth just nothing at all.\n\nTo seek for a _key-position_ therefore in the so called _key country_,\nthat is where the different branches of the mountains diverge from a\ncommon point, and at the highest source of its waters, is merely an\nidea in books, which is overthrown by nature itself, because nature\ndoes not make the ridges and valleys so easy to descend as is assumed\nby the hitherto so called theory of ground, but distributes peaks and\ngorges, in the most irregular manner, and not unfrequently the lowest\nwater level is surrounded by the loftiest masses of mountain. If any\none questions military history on the subject, he will soon convince\nhimself that the leading geological points of a country exercise very\nlittle regular influence on the use of the country for the purposes of\nwar, and that little is so over-balanced by other local circumstances,\nand other requirements, that a line of positions may often run quite\nclose to one of the points we are discussing without having been in any\nway attracted there by that point.\n\nWe have only dwelt so long upon this false idea because a whole\u2014and\nvery pretentious\u2014system has built itself upon it. We now leave it, and\nturn back to our own views.\n\nWe say, then, that if the expression, _key-position_, is to represent\nan independent conception in strategy, it must only be that of a\nlocality the possession of which is indispensable before daring to\nenter the enemy\u2019s country. But if we choose to designate by that term\nevery convenient point of entrance to a country, or every advantageous\ncentral point in the country, then the term loses its real meaning\n(that is, its value), and denotes something which may be found anywhere\nmore or less. It then becomes a mere pleasing figure of speech.\n\nBut positions such as the term conveys to our mind are very rarely\nindeed to be found. In general, the best key to the country lies in the\nenemy\u2019s army; and when the idea of country predominates over that of\nthe armed force, some very specially advantageous circumstances must\nprevail. These, according to our opinion, may be recognised by their\ntending to two principal results: first, that the force occupying the\nposition, through the help of the ground, obtains extraordinary\ncapability of tactical resistance; second, that the enemy\u2019s lines of\ncommunication can be sooner effectively threatened from this position\nthan he can threaten ours.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV. Operating Against a Flank\n\nWe need hardly observe that we speak of the strategic flank, that is, a\nside of the theatre of war, and that the attack from one side in\nbattle, or the tactical movement against a flank, must not be\nconfounded with it; and even in cases in which the strategic operation\nagainst a flank, in its last stage, ends in the tactical operation,\nthey can quite easily be kept separate, because the one never follows\nnecessarily out of the other.\n\nThese flanking movements, and the flanking positions connected with\nthem, belong also to the mere useless pageantry of theory, which is\nseldom met with in actual war. Not that the means itself is either\nineffectual or illusory, but because both sides generally seek to guard\nthemselves against its effects; and cases in which this is impossible\nare rare. Now in these uncommon cases this means has often also proved\nhighly efficacious, and for this reason, as well as on account of the\nconstant watching against it which is required in war, it is important\nthat it should be clearly explained in theory. Although the strategic\noperation against a flank can naturally be imagined, not only on the\npart of the defensive, but also on that of the offensive, still it has\nmuch more affinity with the first, and therefore finds its place under\nthe head of defensive means.\n\nBefore we enter into the subject, we must establish the simple\nprinciple, which must never be lost sight of afterwards in the\nconsideration of the subject, that troops which are to act against the\nrear or flank of the enemy cannot be employed against his front, and\nthat, therefore, whether it be in tactics or strategy, it is a\ncompletely false kind of notion to consider that _coming on the rear_\nof the enemy is at once an advantage in itself. In itself, it is as yet\nnothing; but it will become something in connection with other things,\nand something either advantageous or the reverse, according to the\nnature of these things, the examination of which now claims our\nattention.\n\nFirst, in the action against the strategic flank, we must make a\ndistinction between two objects of that measure\u2014between the action\nmerely against the _communications_, and that against the _line of\nretreat_, with which, at the same time, an effect upon the\ncommunications may also be combined.\n\nWhen Daun, in 1758, sent a detachment to seize the convoys on their way\nto the siege of Olm\u00fctz, he had plainly no intention of impeding the\nking\u2019s retreat into Silesia; he rather wished to bring about that\nretreat, and would willingly have opened the line to him.\n\nIn the campaign of 1812, the object of all the expeditionary corps that\nwere detached from the Russian army in the months of September and\nOctober, was only to intercept the communications, not to stop the\nretreat; but the latter was quite plainly the design of the Moldavian\narmy which, under Tschitschagof, marched against the Beresina, as well\nas of the attack which General Wittgenstein was commissioned to make on\nthe French corps stationed on the Dwina.\n\nThese examples are merely to make the exposition clearer.\n\nThe action against the lines of communication is directed against the\nenemy\u2019s convoys, against small detachments following in rear of the\narmy, against couriers and travellers, small dep\u00f4ts, etc.; in fact,\nagainst all the means which the enemy requires to keep his army in a\nvigorous and healthy condition; its object is, therefore, to weaken the\ncondition of the enemy in this respect, and by this means to cause him\nto retreat.\n\nThe action against the enemy\u2019s line of retreat is to cut his army off\nfrom that line. It cannot effect this object unless the enemy really\ndetermines to retreat; but it may certainly cause him to do so by\nthreatening his line of retreat, and, therefore, it may have the same\neffect as the action against the line of communication, by working as a\ndemonstration. But as already said, none of these effects are to be\nexpected from the mere turning which has been effected, from the mere\ngeometrical form given to the disposition of the troops, they only\nresult from the conditions suitable to the same.\n\nIn order to learn more distinctly these conditions, we shall separate\ncompletely the two actions against the flank, and first consider that\nwhich is directed against the communications.\n\nHere we must first establish two principal conditions, one or other of\nwhich must always be forthcoming.\n\nThe first is, that the forces used for this action against the flank of\nthe enemy must be so insignificant in numbers that their absence is not\nobserved in front.\n\nThe second, that the enemy\u2019s army has run its career, and therefore can\nneither make use of a fresh victory over our army, nor can he pursue us\nif we evade a combat by moving out of the way.\n\nThis last case, which is by no means so uncommon as might be supposed,\nwe shall lay aside for the moment, and occupy ourselves with the\naccessory conditions of the first.\n\nThe first of these is, that the communications have a certain length,\nand cannot be protected by a few good posts; the second point is, that\nthe situation of the line is such as exposes it to our action.\n\nThis weakness of the line may arise in two ways\u2014either by its\ndirection, if it is not perpendicular to the strategic front of the\nenemy\u2019s army, or because his lines of communication pass through our\nterritory; if both these circumstances exist, the line is so much the\nmore exposed. These two relations require a closer examination.\n\nOne would think that when it is a question of covering a line of\ncommunication forty or fifty miles long, it is of little consequence\nwhether the position occupied by an army standing at one extremity of\nthis line forms an oblique angle or a right angle in reference to it,\nas the breadth of the position is little more than a mere point in\ncomparison to the line; and yet it is not so unimportant as it may\nseem. When an army is posted at a right angle with its communications,\nit is difficult, even with a considerable superiority, to interrupt the\ncommunications by any detachments or partisans sent out for the\npurpose. If we think only of the difficulty of covering absolutely a\ncertain space, we should not believe this, but rather suppose, on the\ncontrary, that it must be very difficult for an army to protect its\nrear (that is, the country behind it) against all expeditions which an\nenemy superior in numbers may undertake. Certainly, if we could look at\neverything in war as it is on a sheet of paper! Then the party covering\nthe line, in his uncertainty as to the point where light troops or\npartisans may appear, would be in a certain measure blind, and only the\npartisans would see. But if we think of the uncertainty and\ninsufficiency of intelligence gained in war, and know that both parties\nare incessantly groping in the dark, then we easily perceive that a\ndetached corps sent round the enemy\u2019s flank to gain his rear is in the\nposition of a man engaged in a fray with numbers in a dark room. In the\nend he must fall; and so must it also be with bands who get round an\narmy occupying a perpendicular position, and who therefore place\nthemselves near to the enemy, but widely separated from their own\npeople. Not only is there danger of losing numbers in this way; there\nis also a risk of the whole instrument itself being blunted\nimmediately; for the very first misfortune which happens to one such\nparty will make all the others timid, and instead of bold attacks and\ninsolent dodging, the only play will be constant running away.\n\nThrough this difficulty, therefore, an army occupying a perpendicular\nposition covers the nearest points on its line of communications for a\ndistance of two or three marches, according to the strength of the\narmy; but those nearest points are just those which are most in danger,\nas they are the nearest to the enemy.\n\nOn the other hand, in the case of a decidedly oblique position, no such\npart of the line of communication is covered; the smallest pressure,\nthe most insignificant attempt on the part of the enemy, leads at once\nto a vulnerable point.\n\nBut now, what is it which determines the front of a position, if it is\nnot just the direction perpendicular to the line of communication? The\nfront of the enemy; but then, again, this may be equally as well\nsupposed as dependent on our front. Here there is a reciprocal effect,\nfor the origin of which we must search.\n\n[Illustration: lines of communication]\n\n\nIf we suppose the lines of communication of the assailant, _a b_, so\nsituated with respect to those of the enemy, _c d_, that the two lines\nform a considerable angle with each other, it is evident that if the\ndefensive wishes to take up a position at _e_, where the two lines\nintersect, the assailant from _b_, by the mere geometrical relation,\ncould compel him to form front opposite to him, and thus to lay bare\nhis communications. The case would be reversed if the defensive took up\nhis position on this side of the point of junction, about _d_; then the\nassailant must make front towards him, if so be that his line of\noperations, which closely depends on geographical conditions, cannot be\narbitrarily changed, and moved, for instance, to the direction _a d_.\nFrom this it would seem to follow that the defender has an advantage in\nthis system of reciprocal action, because he only requires to take a\nposition on this side of the intersection of the two lines. But very\nfar from attaching any importance to this geometrical element, we only\nbrought it into consideration to make ourselves the better understood;\nand we are rather of opinion that local and generally individual\nrelations have much more to do with determining the position of the\ndefender; that, therefore, it is quite impossible to lay down in\ngeneral which of two belligerents will be obliged soonest to expose his\ncommunications.\n\nIf the lines of communication of both sides lie in one and the same\ndirection, then whichever of the two parties takes up an oblique\nposition will certainly compel his adversary to do the same. But then\nthere is nothing gained geometrically by this, and both parties attain\nthe same advantages and disadvantages.\n\nIn the continuation of our considerations we shall, therefore, confine\nourselves to the case of the line of communication of one side only\nbeing exposed.\n\nNow as regards the second disadvantageous relation of a line of\ncommunication, that is to say, when it runs through an enemy\u2019s country,\nit is clear in itself how much the line is compromised by that\ncircumstance, if the inhabitants of the country have taken up arms; and\nconsequently the case must be looked at as if a body of the enemy was\nposted all along the line; this body, it is true, is in itself weak\nwithout solidity or intensive force; but we must also take into\nconsideration what the close contact and influence of such a hostile\nforce may nevertheless effect through the number of points which offer\nthemselves one after another on long lines of communication. That\nrequires no further explanation. But even if the enemy\u2019s subjects have\nnot taken up arms, and even if there is no militia in the country, or\nother military organisation, indeed if the people are even very\nunwarlike in spirit, still the mere relation of the people as subjects\nto a hostile government is a disadvantage for the lines of\ncommunication of the other side which is always felt. The assistance\nwhich expeditionary forces and partisans derive merely through a better\nunderstanding with the people, through a knowledge of the country and\nits inhabitants, through good information, through the support of\nofficial functionaries, is, for them, of decided value; and this\nsupport every such body will enjoy without any special effort on its\nown part. Added to this, within a certain distance there will not be\nwanting fortresses, rivers, mountains, or other places of refuge, which\nof ordinary right belong to the enemy, if they have not been formally\ntaken possession of and occupied by our troops.\n\nNow in such a case as is here supposed, especially if attended with\nother favourable circumstances, it is possible to act against the\ncommunications of an army, although their direction is perpendicular to\nthe position of that army; for the detachments employed for the purpose\ndo not then require to fall back always on their own army, because\nbeing in their own country they are safe enough if they only make their\nescape.\n\nWe have, therefore, now ascertained that\u2014\n\n1. A considerable length,\n\n2. An oblique direction,\n\n3. An enemy\u2019s province,\n\nare the principal circumstances under which the lines of communication\nof an army may be interrupted by a relatively small proportion of armed\nforces on the side of the enemy; in order to make this interruption\neffectual, a fourth condition is still requisite, which is a certain\nduration of time. Respecting this point, we beg attention to what has\nbeen said in the fifteenth chapter of the fifth book.\n\nBut these four conditions are only the chief points which relate to the\nsubject; a number of local and special circumstances attach themselves\nto these, and often attain to an influence more decisive and important\nthan that of the principal ones themselves. Selecting only the most\nessential, we mention the state of the roads, the nature of the country\nthrough which they pass, the means of cover which are afforded by\nrivers, mountains, and morasses, the seasons and weather, the\nimportance of particular convoys, such as siege trains, the number of\nlight troops, etc., etc.\n\nOn all these circumstances, therefore, will depend the effect with\nwhich a general can act on his opponent\u2019s communications; and by\ncomparing the result of the whole of these circumstances on the one\nside with the result of the whole on the other, we obtain a just\nestimate of the relative advantages of both systems of communication,\non which will depend which of the two generals can play the highest\ngame.\n\nWhat here seems so prolix in the explanation is often decided in the\nconcrete case at first sight; but still, the tact of a practised\njudgment is required for that, and person must have thought over every\none of the cases now developed in order to see in its true light the\nabsurdity of those critical writers who think they have settled\nsomething by the mere words \u201cturning\u201d and \u201cacting on a flank,\u201d without\ngiving their reasons.\n\nWe now come to the _second chief condition_, under which the strategic\naction against the enemy\u2019s flank may take place.\n\nIf the enemy is hindered from advancing by any other cause but the\nresistance which our army opposes, let that cause be what it may, then\nour army has no reason to be apprehensive about weakening itself by\nsending out detachments to harass the enemy; for if the enemy should\nattempt to chastise us by an attack, we have only to yield some ground\nand decline the combat. This is what was done by the chief Russian army\nat Moscow in 1812. But it is not at all necessary that everything\nshould be again on the same great scale as in that campaign for such a\ncase to happen again. In the first Silesian war, Frederick the Great\nwas each time in this situation, on the frontiers of Bohemia and\nMoravia, and in the complex affairs relating to generals and their\narmies, many causes of different kinds, particularly political ones,\nmay be imagined, which make further advance an impossibility.\n\nAs in the case now supposed more forces may be spared to act against\nthe enemy\u2019s flank, the other conditions need not be quite so\nfavourable: even the nature of our communications in relation to those\nof the enemy need not give us the advantage in that respect, as an\nenemy who is not in a condition to make any particular use of our\nfurther retreat is not likely to use his right to retaliate, but will\nrather be anxious about the direct covering of his own line of retreat.\n\nSuch a situation is therefore very well suited to obtain for us, by\nmeans less brilliant and complete but less dangerous than a victory,\nthose results which it would be too great a risk to seek to obtain by a\nbattle.\n\nAs in such a case we feel little anxiety about exposing our own line of\ncommunications, by taking up a position on one or other flank, and as\nthe enemy by that means may always be comspelled to form front\nobliquely to his line of communications, therefore _this one_ of the\nconditions above named will seldom fail to occur. The more the rest of\nthe conditions, as well as other circumstances, co-operate, so much the\nmore certain are we of success from the means now in question; but the\nfewer favourable circumstances exist, the more will all depend on\nsuperior skill in combination, and promptitude and precision in the\nexecution.\n\nHere is the proper field for strategic man\u0153uvres, such as are to be\nfound so frequently in the Seven Years\u2019 War, in Silesia and Saxony, and\nin the campaigns of 1760 and 1762. If, in many wars in which only a\nmoderate amount of elementary force is displayed, such strategic\nman\u0153uvring very often appears, this is not because the commander on\neach occasion found himself at the end of his career, but because want\nof resolution and courage, and of an enterprising spirit, and dread of\nresponsibility, have often supplied the place of real impediments; for\na case in point, we have only to call to mind Field Marshal Daun.\n\nAs a summary of the results of our considerations, we may say, that the\naction against a flank is most effectual\u2014\n\n1. In the defensive;\n\n2. Towards the end of a campaign;\n\n3. Above all, in a retreat into the heart of the country; and\n\n4. In connection with a general arming of the people.\n\nOn the mode of executing this action against the communications, we\nhave only a few words to say.\n\nThe enterprises must be conducted by skilful detachment leaders, who,\nat the head of small bodies, by bold marches and attacks, fall upon the\nenemy\u2019s weak garrisons, convoys, and small detachments on the march\nhere and there, encourage the national levies (_landsturm_), and\nsometimes join with them in particular undertakings. These parties must\nbe more numerous than strong individually, and so organised that it may\nbe possible to unite several of them for any greater undertaking\nwithout any obstacle from the vanity or caprice of any of the single\nleaders.\n\nWe have now to speak of the action against the enemy\u2019s line of retreat.\n\nHere we must keep in view, above all things, the principle with which\nwe commenced, that forces destined to operate in rear cannot be used in\nfront; that, therefore, the action against the rear or flanks is not an\nincrease of force in itself; it is only to be regarded as a more\npowerful application (or employment) of the same; increasing the degree\nof success in prospect, but also increasing the degree of risk.\n\nEvery opposition offered with the sword which is not of a direct and\nsimple nature, has a tendency to raise the result at the cost of its\ncertainty. An operation against the enemy\u2019s flank, whether with one\ncompact force, or with separate bodies converging from several\nquarters, belongs to this category.\n\nBut now, if cutting off the enemy\u2019s retreat is not to be a mere\ndemonstration, but is seriously intended, the real solution is a\ndecisive battle, or, at least, the conjunction of all the conditions\nfor the same; and just in this solution we find again the two elements\nabove-mentioned\u2014the greater result and the greater danger. Therefore,\nif a general is to stand justified in adopting this method of action,\nhis reasons must be favourable conditions.\n\nIn this method of resistance we must distinguish the two forms already\nmentioned. The first is, if a general with his whole force intends to\nattack the enemy in rear, either from a position taken up on the flank\nfor that purpose, or by a formal turning movement; the second is, if he\ndivides his forces, and, by an enveloping position with one part,\nthreatens the enemy\u2019s rear, with the other part his front.\n\nThe result is intensified in both cases alike, that is\u2014either there is\na real interception of the retreat, and consequently the enemy\u2019s army\ntaken prisoners, or the greater part scattered, or there may be a long\nand hasty retreat of the enemy\u2019s force to escape the danger.\n\nBut the intensified risk is different in the two cases.\n\nIf we turn the enemy with our whole force, the danger lies in the\nlaying open our own rear; and hence the question again depends on the\nrelation of the mutual lines of retreat, just as in the action against\nthe lines of communication, it depended on the relation of those lines.\n\nNow certainly the defender, if he is in his own country, is less\nrestricted than the assailant, both as to his lines of retreat and\ncommunication, and in so far is therefore in a better position to turn\nhis adversary strategically; but this general relation is not of a\nsufficiently decisive character to be used as the foundation of a\npractical method; therefore, nothing but the whole of the relations in\neach individual case can decide.\n\nOnly so much we may add, that favourable conditions are naturally more\ncommon in wide spheres of action than in small; more common, also, on\nthe side of independent states than on that of weak ones, dependent on\nforeign aid, and whose armies must, therefore, constantly have their\nattention bent on the point of junction with the auxiliary army;\nlastly, they become most favorable for the defender towards the close\nof the campaign, when the impulsive force of the assailant is somewhat\nspent; very much, again, in the same manner as in the case of the lines\nof communication.\n\nSuch a flank position as the Russians took up with such advantage on\nthe road from Moscow to Kaluga, when Buonaparte\u2019s aggressive force was\nspent, would have brought them into a scrape at the commencement of the\ncampaign at the camp of Drissa, if they had not been wise enough to\nchange their plan in good time.\n\nThe other method of turning the enemy, and cutting off his retreat by\ndividing our force, entails the risk attending a division of our own\nforce, whilst the enemy, having the advantage of interior lines,\nretains his forces united, and therefore has the power of acting with\nsuperior numbers against one of our divisions. This is a disadvantage\nwhich nothing can remove, and in exposing ourselves to it, we can only\nbe justified by one of three principal reasons:\u2014\n\n1. The original division of the force which makes such a method of\naction necessary, unless we incur a great loss of time.\n\n2. A great moral and physical superiority, which justifies the adoption\nof a decisive method.\n\n3. The want of impulsive force in the enemy as soon as he has arrived\nat the culminating point of his career.\n\nWhen Frederick the Great invaded Bohemia, 1757, on converging lines, he\nhad not in view to combine an attack in front with one on the strategic\nrear, at all events, this was by no means his principal object, as we\nshall more fully explain elsewhere, but in any case it is evident that\nthere never could have been any question of a concentration of forces\nin Silesia or Saxony before the invasion, as he would thereby have\nsacrificed all the advantages of a surprise.\n\nWhen the allies formed their plan for the second part of the campaign\nof 1813, looking to their great superiority in numbers, they might very\nwell at that time entertain the idea of attacking Buonaparte\u2019s right on\nthe Elbe with their main force, and of thus shifting the theatre of war\nfrom the Oder to the Elbe. Their ill-success at Dresden is to be\nascribed not to this general plan but to their faulty dispositions both\nstrategic and tactical. They could have concentrated 220,000 men at\nDresden against Buonaparte\u2019s 130,000, a proportion of numbers eminently\nfavourable (at Leipsic, at least, the proportion was as 285 : 157). It\nis true that Buonaparte had distributed his forces too evenly for the\nparticular system of a defence upon one line (in Silesia 70,000 against\n90,000, in the Mark\u2014Brandenburg\u201470,000 against 110,000), but at all\nevents it would have been difficult for him, without completely\nabandoning Silesia, to assemble on the Elbe a force which could have\ncontended with the principal army of the allies in a decisive battle.\nThe allies could also have easily called up the army of Wrede to the\nMaine, and employed it to try to cut Buonaparte off from the road to\nMayence.\n\nLastly, in 1812, the Russians might have directed their army of\nMoldavia upon Volhynia and Lithuania in order to move it forward\nafterwards against the rear of the principal French army, because it\nwas quite certain that Moscow must be the extreme point of the French\nline of operations. For any part of Russia beyond Moscow there was\nnothing to fear in that campaign, therefore the Russian main army had\nno cause to consider itself too weak.\n\nThis same scheme formed part of the disposition of the forces laid down\nin the first defensive plan proposed by General Phul, according to\nwhich the army of Barclay was to occupy the camp at Drissa, whilst that\nunder Bragathion was to press forward against the rear of the main\nFrench army. But what a difference of circumstances in the two cases!\nIn the first of them the French were three times as strong as the\nRussians; in the second, the Russians were decidedly superior. In the\nfirst, Buonaparte\u2019s great army had in it an impulsive force which\ncarried it to Moscow 80 miles beyond Drissa: in the second, it is unfit\nto make a day\u2019s march beyond Moscow; in the first, the line of retreat\non the Niemen did not exceed 30 miles: in the second it was 112. The\nsame action against the enemy\u2019s retreat therefore, which was so\nsuccessful in the second case, would, in the first, have been the\nwildest folly.\n\nAs the action against the enemy\u2019s line of retreat, if it is more than a\ndemonstration, becomes a formal attack from the rear, there remains\ntherefore still a good deal to be said on the subject, but it will come\nin more appropriately in the book upon the attack; we shall therefore\nbreak off here and content ourselves with having given the conditions\nunder which this kind of reaction may take place.\n\nVery commonly the design of causing the enemy to retreat by menacing\nhis line of retreat, is understood to imply rather a mere demonstration\nthan the actual execution of the threat. If it was necessary that every\nefficacious demonstration should be founded on the actual\npracticability of real action, which seems a matter of course at first\nsight, then it would accord with the same in all respects. But this is\nnot the case: on the contrary, in the chapter on demonstrations we\nshall see that they are connected with conditions somewhat different,\nat all events in some respects, we therefore refer our readers to that\nchapter.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV. Retreat into the Interior of the Country\n\nWe have considered the voluntary retreat into the heart of the country\nas a particular indirect form of defence through which it is expected\nthe enemy will be destroyed, not so much by the sword as by exhaustion\nfrom his own efforts. In this case, therefore, a great battle is either\nnot supposed, or it is assumed to take place when the enemy\u2019s forces\nare considerably reduced.\n\nEvery assailant in advancing diminishes his military strength by the\nadvance; we shall consider this more in detail in the seventh book;\nhere we must assume that result which we may the more readily do as it\nis clearly shown by military history in every campaign in which there\nhas been a considerable advance.\n\nThis loss in the advance is increased if the enemy has not been beaten,\nbut withdraws of his own accord with his forces intact, and offering a\nsteady continuous resistance, sells every step of ground at a bloody\nprice, so that the advance is a continuous combat for ground and not a\nmere pursuit.\n\nOn the other hand, the losses which a party on the defensive suffers on\na retreat, are much greater if his retreat has been preceded by a\ndefeat in battle than if his retreat is voluntary. For if he is able to\noffer the pursuer the daily resistance which we expect on a voluntary\nretreat, his losses would be _at least_ the same in that way, over and\nabove which those sustained in the battle have still to be added. But\nhow contrary to the nature of the thing such a supposition as this\nwould be! The best army in the world if obliged to retire far into the\ncountry after the loss of a battle, will suffer losses on the retreat,\n_beyond measure out of proportion;_ and if the enemy is considerably\nsuperior, as we suppose him, in the case of which we are now speaking,\nif he pursues with great energy as has almost always been done in\nmodern wars, then there is the highest probability that a regular\nflight takes place by which the army is usually completely ruined.\n\nA _regularly measured_ daily resistance, that is, one which each time\nonly lasts as long as the balance of success in the combat can be kept\nwavering, and in which we secure ourselves from defeat by giving up the\nground which has been contested at the right moment, will cost the\nassailant at least as many men as the defender in these combats, for\nthe loss which the latter by retiring now and again must unavoidably\nsuffer in prisoners, will be balanced by the losses of the other under\nfire, as the assailant must always fight against the advantages of the\nground. It is true that the retreating side loses entirely all those\nmen who are badly wounded, but the assailant likewise loses all his in\nthe same case for the present, as they usually remain several months in\nthe hospitals.\n\nThe result will be that the two armies will wear each other away in\nnearly equal proportions in these perpetual collisions.\n\nIt is quite different in the pursuit of a beaten army. Here the troops\nlost in battle, the general disorganisation, the broken courage, the\nanxiety about the retreat, make such a resistance on the part of the\nretreating army very difficult, in many cases impossible; and the\npursuer who, in the former case, advances extremely cautiously, even\nhesitatingly, like a blind man, always groping about, presses forward\nin the latter case with the firm tread of the conqueror, with the\noverweening spirit which good fortune imparts, with the confidence of a\ndemigod, and the more daringly he urges the pursuit so much the more he\nhastens on things in the direction which they have already taken,\nbecause here is the true field for the moral forces which intensify and\nmultiply themselves without being restricted to the rigid numbers and\nmeasures of the physical world.\n\nIt is therefore very plain how different will be the relations of two\narmies according as it is by the first or the second of the above ways,\nthat they arrive at that point which may be regarded as the end of the\nassailant\u2019s course.\n\nThis is merely the result of the mutual destruction; to this must now\nbe added the reductions which the advancing party suffers otherwise in\naddition, and respecting which, as already said, we refer to the\nseventh book; further, on the other hand, we have to take into account\nreinforcements which the retreating party receives in the great\nmajority of cases, by forces subsequently joining him either in the\nform of help from abroad or through persistent efforts at home.\n\nLastly, there is, in the means of subsistence, such a disproportion\nbetween the retreating side and the advancing, that the first not\nuncommonly lives in superfluity when the other is reduced to want.\n\nThe army in retreat has the means of collecting provisions everywhere,\nand he marches towards them, whilst the pursuer must have everything\nbrought after him, which, as long as he is in motion, even with the\nshortest lines of communication, is difficult, and on that account\nbegets scarcity from the very first.\n\nAll that the country yields will be taken for the benefit of the\nretreating army first, and will be mostly consumed. Nothing remains but\nwasted villages and towns, fields from which the crops have been\ngathered, or which are trampled down, empty wells, and muddy brooks.\n\nThe pursuing army, therefore, from the very first day, has frequently\nto contend with the most pressing wants. On taking the enemy\u2019s supplies\nhe cannot reckon; it is only through accident, or some unpardonable\nblunder on the part of the enemy, that here and there some little falls\ninto his hands.\n\nThus there can be no doubt that in countries of vast dimensions, and\nwhen there is no extraordinary disproportion between the belligerent\npowers, a relation may be produced in this way between the military\nforces, which holds out to the defensive an immeasurably greater chance\nof a final result in his favour than he would have had if there had\nbeen a great battle on the frontier. Not only does the probability of\ngaining a victory become greater through this alteration in the\nproportions of the contending armies, but the prospects of great\nresults from the victory are increased as well, through the change of\nposition. What a difference between a battle lost close to the frontier\nof our country and one in the middle of the enemy\u2019s country! Indeed,\nthe situation of the assailant is often such at the end of his first\nstart, that even a battle _gained_ may force him to retreat, because he\nhas neither enough impulsive power left to complete and make use of a\nvictory, nor is he in a condition to replace the forces he has lost.\n\nThere is, therefore, an immense difference between a decisive blow at\nthe commencement and at the end of the attack.\n\nTo the great advantage of this mode of defence are opposed two\ndrawbacks. The first is the loss which the country suffers through the\npresence of the enemy in his advance, the other is the moral\nimpression.\n\nTo protect the country from loss can certainly never be looked upon as\nthe object of the whole defence. That object is an advantageous peace.\nTo obtain that as surely as possible is the endeavour, and for it no\nmomentary sacrifice must he considered too great. At the same time, the\nabove loss, although it may not be decisive, must still be laid in the\nbalance, for it always affects our interests.\n\nThis loss does not affect our army directly; it only acts upon it in a\nmore or less roundabout way, whilst the retreat itself directly\nreinforces our army. It is, therefore, difficult to draw a comparison\nbetween the advantage and disadvantage in this case; they are things of\na different kind, the action of which is not directed towards any\ncommon point. We must, therefore, content ourselves with saying that\nthe loss is greater when we have to sacrifice fruitful provinces well\npopulated, and large commercial towns; but it arrives at a maximum when\nat the same time we lose war-means either ready for use or in course of\npreparation.\n\nThe second counterpoise is the moral impression. There are cases in\nwhich the commander must be above regarding such a thing, in which he\nmust quietly follow out his plans, and run the risk of the objections\nwhich short-sighted despondency may offer; but nevertheless, this\nimpression is no phantom which should be despised. It is not like a\nforce which acts upon one point: but like a force which, with the speed\nof lightning, penetrates every fibre, and paralyses all the powers\nwhich should be in full activity, both in a nation and in its army.\nThere are indeed cases in which the cause of the retreat into the\ninterior of the country is quickly understood by both nation and army,\nand trust, as well as hope, are elevated by the step; but such cases\nare rare. More usually, the people and the army cannot distinguish\nwhether it is a voluntary movement or a precipitate retreat, and still\nless whether the plan is one wisely adopted, with a view to ensure\nulterior advantages, or the result of fear of the enemy\u2019s sword. The\npeople have a mingled feeling of sympathy and dissatisfaction at seeing\nthe fate of the provinces sacrificed; the army easily loses confidence\nin its leaders, or even in itself, and the constant combats of the\nrear-guard during the retreat, tend always to give new strength to its\nfears. _These are consequences_ of the retreat about which we must\nnever deceive ourselves. And it certainly is\u2014considered in itself\u2014more\nnatural, simpler, nobler, and more in accordance with the moral\nexistence of a nation, to enter the lists at once, that the enemy may\nout cross the frontiers of its people without being opposed by its\ngenius, and being called to a bloody account.\n\nThese are the advantages and disadvantages of this kind of defence; now\na few words on its conditions and the circumstances which are in its\nfavour.\n\nA country of great extent, or at all events, a long line of retreat, is\nthe first and fundamental condition; for an advance of a few marches\nwill naturally not weaken the enemy seriously. Buonaparte\u2019s centre, in\nthe year 1812, at Witepsk, was 250,000 strong, at Smolensk, 182,000, at\nBorodino it had only diminished to 130,000, that is to say, had fallen\nto about an equality with the Russian centre. Borodino is ninety miles\nfrom the frontier; but it was not until they came near Moscow that the\nRussians reached that decided superiority in numbers, which of itself\nreversed the situation of the combatants so assuredly, that the French\nvictory at Malo Jaroslewetz could not essentially alter it again.\n\nNo other European state has the dimensions of Russia, and in very few\ncan a line of retreat 100 miles long be imagined. But neither will a\npower such as that of the French in 1812, easily appear under different\ncircumstances, still less such a superiority in numbers as existed at\nthe commencement of the campaign, when the French army had more than\ndouble the numbers of its adversary, besides its undoubted moral\nsuperiority. Therefore, what was here only effected at the end of 100\nmiles, may perhaps, in other cases, be attained at the end of 50 or 30\nmiles.\n\nThe circumstances which favour this mode of defence are\u2014\n\n1. A country only little cultivated.\n\n2. A loyal and warlike people.\n\n3. An inclement season.\n\nAll these things increase the difficulty of maintaining an army, render\ngreat convoys necessary, many detachments, harassing duties, cause the\nspread of sickness, and make operations against the flanks easier for\nthe defender.\n\nLastly, we have yet to speak of the absolute mass alone of the armed\nforce, as influencing the result.\n\nIt lies in the nature of the thing itself that, irrespective of the\nmutual relation of the forces opposed to each other, a small force is\nsooner exhausted than a larger, and, therefore, that its career cannot\nbe so long, nor its theatre of war so wide. There is, therefore, to a\ncertain extent, a constant relation between the absolute size of an\narmy and the space which that army can occupy. It is out of the\nquestion to try to express this relation by any figures, and besides,\nit will always be modified by other circumstances; it is sufficient for\nour purpose to say that these things necessarily have this relation\nfrom their very nature. We may be able to march upon Moscow with\n500,000 but not with 50,000, even if the relation of the invader\u2019s army\nto that of the defender in point of numbers were much more favourable\nin the latter case.\n\nNow if we assume that there is this relation of absolute power to space\nin two different cases, then it is certain that the effect of our\nretreat into the interior in weakening the enemy will increase with the\nmasses.\n\n1. Subsistence and lodging of the troops become more difficult\u2014for,\nsupposing the space which an army covers to increase in proportion to\nthe size of the army, still the subsistence for the army will never be\nobtainable from this space alone, and everything which has to be\nbrought after an army is subject to greater loss also; the whole space\noccupied is never used for covering for the troops, only a small part\nof it is required, and this does not increase in the same proportion as\nthe masses.\n\n2. The advance is in the same manner more tedious in proportion as the\nmasses increase, consequently, the time is longer before the career of\naggression is run out, and the sum total of the daily losses is\ngreater.\n\nThree thousand men driving two thousand before them in an ordinary\ncountry, will not allow them to march at the rate of 1, 2, or at most 3\nmiles a day, and from time to time to make a few days\u2019 halt. To come up\nwith them, to attack them, and force them to make a further retreat is\nthe work of a few hours; but if we multiply these masses by 100, the\ncase is altered. Operations for which a few hours sufficed in the first\ncase, require now a whole day, perhaps two. The contending forces\ncannot remain together near one point; thereby, therefore, the\ndiversity of movements and combinations increases, and, consequently,\nalso the time required. But this places the assailant at a\ndisadvantage, because his difficulty with subsistence being greater, he\nis obliged to extend his force more than the pursued, and, therefore,\nis always in danger of being overpowered by the latter at some\nparticular point, as the Russians tried to do at Witepsk.\n\n3. The greater the masses are, the more severe are the exertions\ndemanded from each individual for the daily duties required\nstrategically and tactically. A hundred thousand men who have to march\nto and from the point of assembly every day, halted at one time, and\nthen set in movement again, now called to arms, then cooking or\nreceiving their rations\u2014a hundred thousand who must not go into their\nbivouac until the necessary reports are delivered in from all\nquarters\u2014these men, as a rule, require for all these exertions\nconnected with the actual march, twice as much time as 50,000 would\nrequire, but there are only twenty-four hours in the day for both. How\nmuch the time and fatigue of the march itself differs according to the\nsize of the body of troops to be moved, has been shown in the ninth\nchapter of the preceding book. Now, the retreating army, it is true,\npartakes of these fatigues as well as the advancing, but they are much\ngreater for the latter:\u2014\n\n1. because the mass of his troops is greater on account of the\nsuperiority which we supposed,\n\n2. because the defender, by being always the party to yield ground,\npurchases by this sacrifice the right of the initiative, and,\ntherefore, the right always to give the law to the other. He forms his\nplan beforehand, which, in most cases, he can carry out unaltered, but\nthe aggressor, on the other hand, can only make his plans conformably\nto those of his adversary, which he must in the first instance find\nout.\n\nWe must, however, remind our readers that we are speaking of the\npursuit of an enemy who has not suffered a defeat, who has not even\nlost a battle. It is necessary to mention this, in order that we may\nnot be supposed to contradict what was said in the twelfth chapter of\nour fourth book.\n\nBut this privilege of giving the law to the enemy makes a difference in\nsaving of time, expenditure of force, as well as in respect of other\nminor advantages which, in the long run, becomes very important.\n\n3. because the retreating force on the one hand does all he can to make\nhis own retreat easy, repairs roads, and bridges, chooses the most\nconvenient places for encampment, etc., and, on the other hand again,\ndoes all he can to throw impediments in the way of the pursuer, as he\ndestroys bridges, by the mere act of marching makes bad roads worse,\ndeprives the enemy of good places for encampment by occupying them\nhimself, etc.\n\nLastly, we must add still, as a specially favourable circumstance, the\nwar made by the people. This does not require further examination here,\nas we shall allot a chapter to the subject itself.\n\nHitherto, we have been engaged upon the advantages which such a retreat\nensures, the sacrifices which it requires, and the conditions which\nmust exist; we shall now say something of the mode of executing it.\n\nThe first question which we have to propose to ourselves is with\nreference to the direction of the retreat.\n\nIt should be made into the _interior_ of the country, therefore, if\npossible, towards a point where the enemy will be surrounded on all\nsides by our provinces; there he will be exposed to their influence,\nand we shall not be in danger _of being separated from the principal\nmass of our territory_, which might happen if we chose a line too near\nthe frontier, as would have happened to the Russians in 1812 if they\nhad retreated to the south instead of the east.\n\nThis is the condition which lies in the object of the measure itself.\nWhich point in the country is the best, how far the choice of that\npoint will accord with the design of covering the capital or any other\nimportant point directly, or drawing the enemy away from the direction\nof such important places depends on circumstances.\n\nIf the Russians had well considered their retreat in 1812 beforehand,\nand, therefore, made it completely in conformity with a regular plan,\nthey might easily, from Smolensk, have taken the road to Kaluga, which\nthey only took on leaving Moscow; it is very possible that under these\ncircumstances Moscow would have been entirely saved.\n\nThat is to say, the French were about 130,000 strong at Borodino, and\nthere is no ground for assuming that they would have been any stronger\nif this battle had been fought by the Russians half way to Kaluga\ninstead; now, how many of these men could they have spared to detach to\nMoscow? Plainly, very few; but it is not with a few troops that an\nexpedition can be sent a distance of fifty miles (the distance from\nSmolensk to Moscow) against such a place as Moscow.\n\nSupposing Buonaparte when at Smolensk, where he was 160,000 strong, had\nthought he could venture to detach against Moscow before engaging in a\ngreat battle, and had used 40,000 men for that purpose, leaving 120,000\nopposite the principal Russian army, in that case, these 120,000 men\nwould not have been more than 90,000 in the battle, that is 40,000 less\nthan the number which fought at Borodino; the Russians, therefore,\nwould have had a superiority in numbers of 30,000 men. Taking the\ncourse of the battle of Borodino as a standard, we may very well assume\nthat with such a superiority they would have been victorious. At all\nevents, the relative situation of the parties would have been more\nfavourable for the Russians than it was at Borodino. But the retreat of\nthe Russians was not the result of a well-matured plan; they retreated\nas far as they did because each time that they were on the point of\ngiving battle they did not consider themselves strong enough yet for a\ngreat action; all their supplies and reinforcements were on the road\nfrom Moscow to Smolensk, and it could not enter the head of anyone at\nSmolensk to leave that road. But, besides, a victory between Smolensk\nand Kaluga would never have excused, in the eyes of the Russians, the\noffence of having left Moscow uncovered, and exposed it to the\npossibility of being captured.\n\nBuonaparte, in 1813, would have secured Paris with more certainty from\nan attack if he had taken up a position at some distance in a lateral\ndirection, somewhere behind the canal of Burgundy, leaving only with\nthe large force of National Guard in Paris a few thousand regular\ntroops. The allies would never have had the courage to march a corps of\n50,000 or 60,000 against Paris whilst Buonaparte was in the field at\nAuxerre with 100,000 men. If the case is supposed reversed, and the\nallies in Buonaparte\u2019s place, then no one, indeed, would have advised\nthem to leave the road open to their own capital with _Buonaparte_ for\ntheir opponent. With such a preponderance he would not have hesitated a\nmoment about marching on the capital. So different is the effect under\nthe same circumstances but under different moral relations.\n\nAs we shall have hereafter to return to this subject when treating of\nthe plan of a war, we shall only at present add that, when such a\nlateral position is taken, the capital or place which it is the object\nto protect, must, in every case, be capable of making some resistance\nthat it may not be occupied and laid under contribution by every flying\ncolumn or irregular band.\n\nBut we have still to consider another peculiarity in the direction of\nsuch a line of retreat, that is, a sudden _change of direction_. After\nthe Russians had kept the same direction as far as Moscow they left\nthat direction which would have taken them to Wladimir, and after first\ntaking the road to Riazan for some distance, they then transferred\ntheir army to the Kaluga road. If they had been obliged to continue\ntheir retreat they could easily have done so in this new direction\nwhich would have led them to Kiew, therefore much nearer again to the\nenemy\u2019s frontier. That the French, even if they had still preserved a\nlarge numerical superiority over the Russians, could not have\nmaintained their line of communication by Moscow under such\ncircumstances is clear in itself; they must have given up not only\nMoscow but, in all probability, Smolensk also, therefore have again\nabandoned the conquests obtained with so much toil, and contented\nthemselves with a theatre of war on this side the Beresina.\n\nNow, certainly, the Russian army would thus have got into the same\ndifficulty to which it would have exposed itself by taking the\ndirection of Kiew at first, namely, that of being separated from the\nmass of its own territory; but this disadvantage would now have become\nalmost insignificant, for how different would have been the condition\nof the French army if it had marched straight upon Kiew without making\nthe detour by Moscow.\n\nIt is evident that such a sudden _change of direction_ of a line of\nretreat, which is very practicable in a spacious country, ensures\nremarkable advantages.\n\n1. It makes it impossible for the enemy (the advancing force) to\nmaintain his old line of communication: but the organisation of a new\none is always a difficult matter, in addition to which the change is\nmade gradually, therefore, probably, he has to try more than one new\nline.\n\n2. If both parties in this manner approach the frontier again; the\nposition of the aggressor no longer covers his conquests, and he must\nin all probability give them up.\n\nRussia with its enormous dimensions, is a country in which two armies\nmight in this manner regularly play at prisoners\u2019 base (Zeck jagen).\n\nBut such a change of the line of retreat is also possible in smaller\ncountries, when other circumstances are favourable, which can only be\njudged of in each individual case, according to its different\nrelations.\n\nWhen the direction in which the enemy is to be drawn into the country\nis once fixed upon, then it follows of itself that our principal army\nshould take that direction, for otherwise the enemy would not advance\nin that direction, and if he even did we should not then be able to\nimpose upon him all the conditions above supposed. The question then\nonly remains whether we shall take this direction with our forces\nundivided, or whether considerable portions should spread out laterally\nand therefore give the retreat a divergent (eccentric) form.\n\nTo this we answer that this latter form in itself is to be rejected.\n\n1. Because it divides our forces, whilst their concentration on one\npoint is just one of the chief difficulties for the enemy.\n\n2. Because the enemy gets the advantage of operating on interior lines,\ncan remain more concentrated than we are, consequently can appear in so\nmuch the greater force at any one point. Now certainly this superiority\nis less to be dreaded when we are following a system of constantly\ngiving way; but the very condition of this constantly yielding, is\nalways to continue formidable to the enemy and not to allow him to beat\nus in detail, which might easily happen. A further object of such a\nretreat, is to bring our principal force by degrees to a superiority of\nnumbers, and with this superiority to give a decisive blow, but that by\na partition of forces would become an uncertainty.\n\n3. Because as a general rule the concentric (convergent) action against\nthe enemy is not adapted to the weaker forces.\n\n4. Because many disadvantages of the weak points of the aggression\ndisappear when the defender\u2019s army is divided into separate parts.\n\nThe weakest features in a long advance on the part of the aggressor are\nfor instance;\u2014the length of the lines of communication, and the\nexposure of the strategic flanks. By the divergent form of retreat, the\naggressor is compelled to cause a portion of his force to show a front\nto the flank, and this portion properly destined only to neutralise our\nforce immediately in his front, now effects to a certain extent\nsomething else in addition, by covering a portion of the lines of\ncommunication.\n\nFor the mere strategic effect of the retreat, the divergent form is\ntherefore not favourable; but if it is to prepare an action hereafter\nagainst the enemy\u2019s line of retreat, then we must refer to what has\nbeen said about that in the last chapter.\n\nThere is _only one_ object which can give occasion to a divergent\nretreat, that is when we can by that means protect provinces which\notherwise the enemy would occupy.\n\nWhat sections of territory the advancing foe will occupy right and left\nof his course, can with tolerable accuracy be discerned by the point of\nassembly of, and directions given to, his forces, by the situation of\nhis own provinces, fortresses, etc., in respect to our own. To place\ntroops in those districts of territory which he will in all probability\nleave unoccupied, would be dangerous waste of our forces. But now\nwhether _by any disposition of our forces we shall be able to hinder\nhim_ from occupying those districts which in all probability he will\ndesire to occupy, is more difficult to decide, and it is therefore a\npoint, the solution of which depends much on tact of judgment.\n\nWhen the Russians retreated in 1812, they left 30,000 men under\nTormassow in Volhynia, to oppose the Austrian force which was expected\nto invade that province. The size of the province, the numerous\nobstacles of ground which the country presents, the near proportion\nbetween the forces likely to come into conflict justified the Russians\nin their expectations, that they would be able to keep the upper hand\nin that quarter, or at least to maintain themselves near to their\nfrontier. By this, very important advantages might have resulted in the\nsequel, which we shall not stop here to discuss; besides this, it was\nalmost impossible for these troops to have joined the main army in time\nif they had wished. For these reasons, the determination to leave these\ntroops in Volhynia to carry on there a distinct war of their own, was\nright. Now on the other hand, if according to the proposed plan of\ncampaign submitted by General Phul, only the army of Barclay (80,000\nmen), was to retire to Drissa, and Bragathion\u2019s army (40,000 men) was\nto remain on the right flank of the French, with a view to subsequently\nfalling on their rear, it is evident at once that this corps could not\npossibly maintain itself in South Lithuania so near to the rear of the\nmain body of the French army, and would soon have been destroyed by\ntheir overwhelming masses.\n\nThat the defender\u2019s interest in itself is to give up as few provinces\nas possible to the assailant is intelligible enough, but this is always\na secondary consideration; that the attack is also made more difficult\nthe smaller or rather narrower the theatre of war is to which we can\nconfine the enemy, is likewise clear in itself; but all this is\nsubordinate to the condition that in so doing we have the probability\nof a result in our favour, and that the main body of the force on the\ndefensive will not be too much weakened; for upon that force we must\nchiefly depend for the final solution, because the difficulties and\ndistress suffered by the main body of the enemy, first call forth his\ndetermination to retreat, and increase in the greatest degree the loss\nof physical and moral power therewith connected.\n\nThe retreat into the interior of the country should therefore as a rule\nbe made directly before the enemy, and as slowly as possible, with an\narmy which has not suffered defeat and is undivided; and by its\nincessant resistance it should force the enemy to a constant state of\nreadiness for battle, and to a ruinous expenditure of forces in\ntactical and strategical measures of precaution.\n\nWhen both sides have in this manner reached the end of the aggressor\u2019s\nfirst start, the defender should then dispose his army in a position,\nif such can be found, forming an oblique angle with the route of his\nopponent, and operate against the enemy\u2019s rear with all the means at\nhis command.\n\nThe campaign of 1812 in Russia shows all these measures on a great\nscale, and their effects, as it were, in a magnifying glass. Although\nit was not a voluntary retreat, we may easily consider it from that\npoint of view. If the Russians with the experience they now have of the\nresults to be thus produced, had to undertake the defence of their\ncountry over again, exactly under the same circumstances, they would do\nvoluntarily and systematically what in great part was done without a\ndefinite plan in 1812; but it would be a great mistake to suppose that\nthere neither is nor can be any instance elsewhere of the same mode of\naction where the dimensions of the Russian empire are wanting.\n\nWhenever a strategic attack, without coming to the issue of a battle,\nis wrecked merely on the difficulties encountered, and the aggressor is\ncompelled to make a more or less disastrous retreat, there the chief\nconditions and principal effects of this mode of defence will be found\nto have taken place, whatever may be the modifying circumstances\notherwise with which it is accompanied. Frederick the Great\u2019s campaign\nof 1742 in Moravia, of 1744 in Bohemia, the French campaign of 1743 in\nAustria and Bohemia, the Duke of Brunswick\u2019s campaign of 1792 in\nFrance, Massena\u2019s winter campaign of 1810\u201411 in Portugal, are all cases\nin which this is exemplified, although in smaller proportions and\nrelations; there are besides innumerable fragmentary operations of this\nkind, the results of which, although not wholly, are still partly to be\nascribed to the principle which we here uphold; these we do not bring\nforward, because it would necessitate a development of circumstances\nwhich would lead us into too wide a field.\n\nIn Russia, and in the other cases cited, the crisis or turn of affairs\ntook place without any successful battle, having given the decision at\nthe culminating point; but even when such an effect is not to be\nexpected, it is always a matter of immense importance in this mode of\ndefence to bring about such a relation of forces as makes victory\npossible, and through that victory, as through a first blow, to cause a\nmovement which usually goes on increasing in its disastrous effects\naccording to the laws applicable to falling bodies.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI. Arming the Nation\n\nA people\u2019s war in civilised Europe is a phenomenon of the nineteenth\ncentury. It has its advocates and its opponents: the latter either\nconsidering it in a political sense as a revolutionary means, a state\nof anarchy declared lawful, which is as dangerous as a foreign enemy to\nsocial order at home; or on military grounds, conceiving that the\nresult is not commensurate with the expenditure of the nation\u2019s\nstrength. The first point does not concern us here, for we look upon a\npeople\u2019s war merely as a means of fighting, therefore, in its\nconnection with the enemy; but with regard to the latter point, we must\nobserve that a people\u2019s war in general is to be regarded as a\nconsequence of the outburst which the military element in our day has\nmade through its old formal limits; as an expansion and strengthening\nof the whole fermentation-process which we call war. The requisition\nsystem, the immense increase in the size of armies by means of that\nsystem, and the general liability to military service, the utilizing\nmilitia, are all things which lie in the same direction, if we make the\nlimited military system of former days our starting point; and the\n_lev\u00e9e en masse_, or arming of the people, now lies also in the same\ndirection. If the first named of these new aids to war are the natural\nand necessary consequences of barriers thrown down; and if they have so\nenormously increased the power of those who first used them, that the\nenemy has been carried along in the current, and obliged to adopt them\nlikewise, this will be the case also with people-wars. In the\ngenerality of cases, the people who make judicious use of this means,\nwill gain a proportionate superiority over those who despise its use.\nIf this be so, then the only question is whether this modern\nintensification of the military element is, upon the whole, salutary\nfor the interests of humanity or otherwise,\u2014a question which it would\nbe about as easy to answer as the question of war itself\u2014we leave both\nto philosophers. But the opinion may be advanced, that the resources\nswallowed up in people\u2019s wars might be more profitably employed, if\nused in providing other military means; no very deep investigation,\nhowever, is necessary to be convinced that these resources are for the\nmost part not disposable, and cannot be utilized in an arbitrary manner\nat pleasure. One essential part that is the moral element, is not\ncalled into existence until this kind of employment for it arises.\n\nWe therefore do not ask again: how much does the resistance which the\nwhole nation in arms is capable of making, cost that nation? but we\nask: what is the effect which such a resistance can produce? What are\nits conditions, and how is it to be used?\n\nIt follows from the very nature of the thing that defensive means thus\nwidely dispersed, are not suited to great blows requiring concentrated\naction in time and space. Its operation, like the process of\nevaporation in physical nature, is according to the surface. The\ngreater that surface and the greater the contact with the enemy\u2019s army,\nconsequently the more that army spreads itself out, so much the greater\nwill be the effects of arming the nation. Like a slow gradual heat, it\ndestroys the foundations of the enemy\u2019s army. As it requires time to\nproduce its effects, therefore whilst the hostile elements are working\non each other, there is a state of tension which either gradually wears\nout if the people\u2019s war is extinguished at some points, and burns\nslowly away at others, or leads to a crisis, if the flames of this\ngeneral conflagration envelop the enemy\u2019s army, and compel it to\nevacuate the country to save itself from utter destruction. In order\nthat this result should be produced by a national war alone, we must\nsuppose either a surface-extent of the dominions invaded, exceeding\nthat of any country in Europe, except Russia, or suppose a\ndisproportion between the strength of the invading army and the extent\nof the country, such as never occurs in reality. Therefore, to avoid\nfollowing a phantom, we must imagine a people-war always in\ncombination, with a war carried on by a regular army, and both carried\non according to a plan embracing the operations of the whole.\n\nThe conditions under which alone the people\u2019s war can become effective\nare the following\u2014\n\n1. That the war is carried on in the heart of the country.\n\n2. That it cannot be decided by a single catastrophe.\n\n3. That the theatre of war embraces a considerable extent of country.\n\n4. That the national character is favourable to the measure.\n\n5. That the country is of a broken and difficult nature, either from\nbeing mountainous, or by reason of woods and marshes, or from the\npeculiar mode of cultivation in use.\n\nWhether the population is dense or otherwise, is of little consequence,\nas there is less likelihood of a want of men than of anything else.\nWhether the inhabitants are rich or poor is also a point by no means\ndecisive, at least it should not be; but it must be admitted that a\npoor population accustomed to hard work and privations usually shows\nitself more vigorous and better suited for war.\n\nOne peculiarity of country which greatly favors the action of war\ncarried on by the people, is the scattered sites of the dwellings of\nthe country people, such as is to be found in many parts of Germany.\nThe country is thus more intersected an dcovered; the roads are worse,\nalthough more numerous; the lodgement of troops is attended with\nendless difficulties, but especially that peculiarity repeats itself on\na small scale, which a people-war possesses on a great scale, namely\nthat the principle of resistance exists everywhere, but is nowhere\ntangible. If the inhabitants are collected in villages, the most\ntroublesome have troops quartered on them, or they are plundered as a\npunishment, and their houses burnt, etc, a system which could not be\nvery easily carried out with a peasant community of Westphalia.\n\nNational levies and armed peasantry cannot and should not be employed\nagainst the main body of the enemy\u2019s army, or even against any\nconsiderable corps of the same, they must not attempt to crack the nut,\nthey must only gnaw on the surface and the borders. They should rise in\nthe provinces situated at one of the sides of the theatre of war, and\nin which the assailant does not appear in force, in order to withdraw\nthese provinces entirely from his influence. Where no enemy is to be\nfound, there is no want of courage to oppose him, and at the example\nthus given, the mass of the neighboring population gradually takes\nfire. Thus the fire spreads as it does in heather, and reaching at last\nthat part of the surface of the soil on which the aggressor is based,\nit seizes his lines of communication and preys upon the vital thread by\nwhich his existence is supported. For although we entertain no\nexaggerated ideas of the omnipotence of a people\u2019s war, such as that it\nis an inexhaustible, unconquerable element, over which the mere force\nof an army has as little control as the human will has over the wind or\nthe rain; in short, although our opinion is not founded on flowery\nephemeral literature, still we must admit that armed peasants are not\nto be driven before us in the same way as a body of soldiers who keep\ntogether like a herd of cattle, and usually follow their noses. Armed\npeasants, on the contrary, when broken, disperse in all directions, for\nwhich no formal plan is required; through this circumstance, the march\nof every small body of troops in a mountainous, thickly wooded, or even\nbroken country, becomes a service of a very dangerous character, for at\nany moment a combat may arise on the march; if in point of fact no\narmed bodies have even been seen for some time, yet the same peasants\nalready driven off by the head of a column, may at any hour make their\nappearance in its rear. If it is an object to destroy roads or to block\nup a defile; the means which outposts or detachments from an army can\napply to that purpose, bear about the same relation to those furnished\nby a body of insurgent peasants, as the action of an automaton does to\nthat of a human being. The enemy has no other means to oppose to the\naction of national levies except that of detaching numerous parties to\nfurnish escorts for convoys to occupy military stations, defiles,\nbridges, etc. In proportion as the first efforts of the national levies\nare small, so the detachments sent out will be weak in numbers, from\nthe repugnance to a great dispersion of forces; it is on these weak\nbodies that the fire of the national war usually first properly kindles\nitself, they are overpowered by numbers at some points, courage rises,\nthe love of fighting gains strength, and the intensity of this struggle\nincreases until the crisis approaches which is to decide the issue.\n\nAccording to our idea of a people\u2019s war, it should, like a kind of\nnebulous vapoury essence, never condense into a solid body; otherwise\nthe enemy sends an adequate force against this core, crushes it, and\nmakes a great many prisoners; their courage sinks; every one thinks the\nmain question is decided, any further effort useless, and the arms fall\nfrom the hands of the people. Still, however, on the other hand, it is\nnecessary that this mist should collect at some points into denser\nmasses, and form threatening clouds from which now and again a\nformidable flash of lightning may burst forth. These points are chiefly\non the flanks of the enemy\u2019s theatre of war, as already observed. There\nthe armament of the people should be organised into greater and more\nsystematic bodies, supported by a small force of regular troops, so as\nto give it the appearance of a regular force and fit it to venture upon\nenterprises on a larger scale. From these points, the irregular\ncharacter in the organisation of these bodies should diminish in\nproportion as they are to be employed more in the direction of the rear\nof the enemy, where he is exposed to their hardest blows. These better\norganised masses, are for the purpose of falling upon the larger\ngarrisons which the enemy leaves behind him. Besides, they serve to\ncreate a feeling of uneasiness and dread, and increase the moral\nimpression of the whole, without them the total action would be wanting\nin force, and the situation of the enemy upon the whole would not be\nmade sufficiently uncomfortable.\n\nThe easiest way for a general to produce this more effective form of a\nnational armament, is to support the movement by small detachments sent\nfrom the army. Without the support of a few regular troops as an\nencouragement, the inhabitants generally want an impulse, and the\nconfidence to take up arms. The stronger these detachments are, the\ngreater will be their power of attraction, the greater will be the\navalanche which is to fall down. But this has its limits; partly,\nfirst, because it would be detrimental to the army to cut it up into\ndetachments, for this secondary object to dissolve it, as it were, into\na body of irregulars, and form with it in all directions a weak\ndefensive line, by which we may be sure both the regular army and\nnational levies alike would become completely ruined; partly, secondly,\nbecause experience seems to tell us that when there are too many\nregular troops in a district, the people-war loses in vigour and\nefficacy; the causes of this are in the first place, that too many of\nthe enemy\u2019s troops are thus drawn into the district, and, in the second\nplace, that the inhabitants then rely on their own regular troops, and,\nthirdly, because the presence of such large bodies of troops makes too\ngreat demands on the powers of the people in other ways, that is, in\nproviding quarters, transport, contributions, etc., etc.\n\nAnother means of preventing any serious reaction on the part of the\nenemy against this popular movement constitutes, at the same time, a\nleading principle in the method of using such levies; this is, that as\na rule, with this great strategic means of defence, a tactical defence\nshould seldom or ever take place. The character of a _combat with\nnational levies_ is the same as that of all combats of masses of troops\nof an inferior quality, great impetuosity and fiery ardour at the\ncommencement, but little coolness or tenacity if the combat is\nprolonged. Further, the defeat and dispersion of a body of national\nlevies is of no material consequence, as they lay their account with\nthat, but a body of this description must not be broken up by losses in\nkilled, wounded, and prisoners; a defeat of that kind would soon cool\ntheir ardour. But both these peculiarities are entirely opposed to the\nnature of a tactical defensive. In the defensive combat a persistent\nslow systematic action is required, and great risks must be run; a mere\nattempt, from which we can desist as soon as we please, can never lead\nto results in the defensive. If, therefore, the national levies are\nentrusted with the defence of any particular portion of territory, care\nmust be taken that the measure does not lead to a regular great\ndefensive combat; for if the circumstances were ever so favourable to\nthem, they would be sure to be defeated. They may, and should,\ntherefore, defend the approaches to mountains, dykes, over marshes,\nriver-passages, as long as possible; but when once they are broken,\nthey should rather disperse, and continue their defence by sudden\nattacks, than concentrate and allow themselves to be shut up in some\nnarrow last refuge in a regular defensive position.\u2014However brave a\nnation may be, however warlike its habits, however intense its hatred\nof the enemy, however favourable the nature of the country, it is an\nundeniable fact that a people\u2019s war cannot be kept up in an atmosphere\ntoo full of danger. If, therefore, its combustible material is to be\nfanned by any means into a considerable flame it must be at remote\npoints where there is more air, and where it cannot be extinguished by\none great blow.\n\nAfter these reflections, which are more of the nature of subjective\nimpressions than an objective analysis, because the subject is one as\nyet of rare occurrence generally, and has been but imperfectly treated\nof by those who have had actual experience for any length of time, we\nhave only to add that the strategic plan of defence can include in\nitself the cooperation of a general arming of the people in two\ndifferent ways, that is, either as a last resource after a lost battle,\nor as a natural assistance before a decisive battle has been fought.\nThe latter case supposes a retreat into the interior of the country,\nand that indirect kind of reaction of which we have treated in the\neighth and twenty-fourth chapters of this book. We have, therefore,\nhere only to say a few words on the mission of the national levies\nafter a battle has been lost.\n\nNo State should believe its fate, that is, its entire existence, to be\ndependent upon one battle, let it be even the most decisive. If it is\nbeaten, the calling forth fresh power, and the natural weakening which\nevery offensive undergoes with time, may bring about a turn of fortune,\nor assistance may come from abroad. No such urgent haste to die is\nneeded yet; and as by instinct the drowning man catches at a straw, so\nin the natural course of the moral world a people should try the last\nmeans of deliverance when it sees itself hurried along to the brink of\nan abyss.\n\nHowever small and weak a State may be in comparison to its enemy, if it\nforegoes a last supreme effort, we must say there is no longer any soul\nleft in it. This does not exclude the possibility of saving itself from\ncomplete destruction by the purchase of peace at a sacrifice; but\nneither does such an aim on its part do away with the utility of fresh\nmeasures for defence; they will neither make peace more difficult nor\nmore onerous, but easier and better. They are still more necessary if\nthere is an expectation of assistance from those who are interested in\nmaintaining our political existence. Any government, therefore, which,\nafter the loss of a great battle, only thinks how it may speedily place\nthe nation in the lap of peace, and unmanned by the feeling of great\nhopes disappointed, no longer feels in itself the courage or the desire\nto stimulate to the utmost every element of force, completely\nstultifies itself in such case through weakness, and shows itself\nunworthy of victory, and, perhaps, just on that account, was incapable\nof gaining one.\n\nHowever decisive, therefore, the overthrow may be which is experienced\nby a State, still by a retreat of the army into the interior, the\nefficacy of its fortresses and an arming of the people may be brought\ninto use. In connection with this it is advantageous if the flank of\nthe principal theatre of war is fenced in by mountains, or otherwise\nvery difficult tracts of country, which stand forth as bastions, the\nstrategic enfilade of which is to check the enemy\u2019s progress.\n\nIf the victorious enemy is engaged in siege works, if he has left\nstrong garrisons behind him everywhere to secure his communications, or\ndetached corps to make himself elbow-room, and to keep the adjacent\nprovinces in subjection, if he is already weakened by his various\nlosses in active means and material of war, then the moment is arrived\nwhen the defensive army should again enter the lists, and by a\nwell-directed blow make the assailant stagger in his disadvantageous\nposition.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII. Defence of a Theatre of War\n\nHaving treated of the _most important defensive means_, we might\nperhaps be contented to leave the manner in which these means attach\nthemselves to the plan of defence as a whole to be discussed in the\nlast Book, which will be devoted to the _Plan of a War;_ for from this\nevery secondary scheme, either of attack or defence, emanates and is\ndetermined in its leading features; and moreover in many cases the plan\nof the war itself is nothing more than the plan of the attack or\ndefence of the principal theatre of war. But we have not been able to\ncommence with war as a whole, although in war more than in any other\nphase of human activity, the parts are shaped by the whole, imbued with\nand essentially altered by its character; instead of that, we have been\nobliged to make ourselves thoroughly acquainted, in the first instance,\nwith each single subject as a separate part. Without this progress from\nthe simple to the complex, a number of undefined ideas would have\noverpowered us, and the manifold phases of reciprocal action in\nparticular would have constantly confused our conceptions. We shall\ntherefore still continue to advance towards the whole by one step at a\ntime; that is, we shall consider the defence of a theatre in itself,\nand look for the thread by which the subjects already treated of\nconnect themselves with it.\n\nThe defensive, according to our conception, is nothing _but the\nstronger form of combat_. The preservation of our own forces and the\ndestruction of those of the enemy\u2014in a word, the _victory_\u2014is the aim\nof this contest, but at the same time not its ultimate object.\n\nThat object is the preservation of our own political state and the\nsubjugation of that of the enemy; or again, in one word, the _desired\npeace_, because it is only by it that this conflict adjusts itself, and\nends in a common result.\n\nBut what is the enemy\u2019s state in connection with war? Above all things\nits military force is important, then its territory; but certainly\nthere are also still many other things which, through particular\ncircumstances, may obtain a predominant importance; to these belong,\nbefore all, foreign and domestic political relations, which sometimes\ndecide more than all the rest. But although the military force and the\nterritory of the enemy alone are still not the state itself, nor are\nthey the only connections which the state may have with the war, still\nthese two things are always preponderating, mostly immeasurably\nsurpassing all other connections in importance. Military force is to\nprotect the territory of the state, or to conquer that of an enemy; the\nterritory on the other hand, constantly nourishes and renovates the\nmilitary force. The two, therefore, depend on each other, mutually\nsupport each other, are equal in importance one to the other. But still\nthere is a difference in their mutual relations. If the military force\nis destroyed, that is completely defeated, rendered incapable of\nfurther resistance, then the loss of the territory follows of itself;\nbut on the other hand, the destruction of the military force by no\nmeans follows from the conquest of the country, because that force may\nof its own accord evacuate the territory, in order afterwards to\nreconquer it the more easily. Indeed, not only does the _complete_\ndestruction of its army decide the fate of a country, but even every\n_considerable weakening_ of its military force leads regularly to a\nloss of territory; on the other hand, every considerable loss of\nterritory does not cause a proportionate diminution of military power;\nin the long run it will do so, but not always within the space of time\nin which a war is brought to a close.\n\nFrom this it follows that the preservation of our own military power,\nand the diminution or destruction of that of the enemy, take precedence\nin importance over the occupation of territory, and, therefore, is the\n_first object_ which a general should strive for. The possession of\nterritory only presses for consideration _as an object_ if that means\n(diminution or destruction of the enemy\u2019s military force) has not\neffected it.\n\nIf the whole of the enemy\u2019s military power was united in _one army_,\nand if the whole war consisted of _one battle_, then the possession of\nthe country would depend on the issue of that battle; destruction of\nthe enemy\u2019s military forces, conquest of his country and security of\nour own, would follow from that result, and, in a certain measure, be\nidentical with it. Now the question is, what can induce the defensive\nto deviate from this simplest form of the act of warfare, and\ndistribute his power in space? The answer is, the insufficiency of the\nvictory which he might gain with all his forces united. Every victory\nhas its sphere of influence. If this extends over the whole of the\nenemy\u2019s state, consequently over the whole of his military force and\nhis territory, that is, if all the parts are carried along in the same\nmovement, which we have impressed upon the core of his power, then such\na victory is all that we require, and a division of our forces would\nnot be justified by sufficient grounds. But if there are portions of\nthe enemy\u2019s military force, and of country belonging to either party,\nover which our victory would have no effect, then we must give\nparticular attention to those parts; and as we cannot unite territory\nlike a military force in one point, therefore we must divide our forces\nfor the purpose of attacking or defending those portions.\n\nIt is only in small, compactly shaped states that it is possible to\nhave such a unity of military force, and that probably all depends upon\na victory over _that force_. Such a unity is practically impossible\nwhen larger tracts of country, having for a great extent boundaries\nconterminious with our own, are concerned, or in the case of an\nalliance of several surrounding states against us. In such cases,\ndivisions of force must necessarily take place, giving occasion to\ndifferent theatres of war.\n\nThe effect of a victory will naturally depend on its _greatness_, and\nthat on the mass of the _conquered troops_. Therefore _the blow_ which,\nif successful, will produce the greatest effect, must be made against\n_that part_ of the country where the greatest number of the enemy\u2019s\nforces are collected together; and the greater the mass of our own\nforces which we use for this blow, so much the surer shall we be of\nthis success. This natural sequence of ideas leads us to an\nillustration by which we shall see this truth more clearly; it is the\nnature and effect of the centre of gravity in mechanics.\n\nAs the centre of gravity is always situated where the greatest mass of\nmatter is collected, and as a shock against the centre of gravity of a\nbody always produces the greatest effect, and further, as the most\neffective blow is struck with the centre of gravity of the power used,\nso it is also in war. The armed forces of every belligerent, whether of\na single state or of an alliance of states, have a certain unity, and\nin that way, connection; but where connection is there come in\nanalogies of the centre of gravity. There are, therefore, in these\narmed forces certain centres of gravity, the movement and direction of\nwhich decide upon other points, and these centres of gravity are\nsituated where the greatest bodies of troops are assembled. But just\nas, in the world of inert matter, the action against the centre of\ngravity has its measure and limits in the connection of the parts, so\nit is in war, and here as well as there the force exerted may easily be\ngreater than the resistance requires, and then there is a blow in the\nair, a waste of force.\n\nWhat a difference there is between the solidity of an army under _one_\nstandard, led into battle under the personal command of _one_ general,\nand that of an _allied army_ extended over 50 or 100 miles, or it may\nbe even based upon quite different sides (of the theatre of war). There\nwe see coherence in the strongest degree, unity most complete; here\nunity in a very remote degree often only existing in the political view\nheld in common, and in that also in a miserable and insufficient\ndegree, the cohesion of parts mostly very weak, often quite an\nillusion.\n\nTherefore, if on the one hand, the violence with which we wish to\nstrike the blow prescribes the greatest concentration of force, so in\nlike manner, on the other hand, we have to fear every undue excess as a\nreal evil, because it entails a waste of power, and that in turn a\n_deficiency_ of power at other points.\n\nTo distinguish these \u201c_centra gravitatis_\u201d in the enemy\u2019s military\npower, to discern their spheres of action is, therefore, a supreme act\nof strategic judgment. We must constantly ask ourselves, what effect\nthe advance or retreat of part of the forces on either side will\nproduce on the rest.\n\nWe do not by this lay claim in any way to the discovery of a new\nmethod, we have only sought to explain the foundation of the method of\nall generals, in every age, in a manner which may place its connection\nwith the nature of things in a clearer light.\n\nHow this conception of the centre of gravity of the enemy\u2019s force\naffects the whole plan of the war, we shall consider in the last book,\nfor that is the proper place for the subject, and we have only borrowed\nit from there to avoid leaving any break in the sequence of ideas. By\nthe introduction of this view we have seen the motives which occasion a\npartition of forces in general. These consist fundamentally of two\ninterests which are in opposition to each other; the one, _the\npossession of territory_ strives to divide the forces; the other, _the\neffort of force against the centre of gravity of the enemy\u2019s military\npower_, combines them again up to a certain point.\n\nThus it is that theatres of war or particular army regions originate.\nThese are those boundaries of the area of the country and of the forces\nthereon distributed, within which every decision given by the principal\nforce of such a region extends itself _directly_ over the whole, and\ncarries on the whole with it in its own direction. We say _directly_,\nbecause a decision on one theatre of war must naturally have also an\ninfluence more or less over those adjoining it.\n\nAlthough it lies quite in the nature of the thing, we must again remind\nour readers expressly that here as well as everywhere else our\ndefinitions are only directed at the centres of certain speculative\nregions, the limits of which we neither desire to, nor can we, define\nby sharp lines.\n\nWe think, therefore, a theatre of war, whether large or small, with its\nmilitary force, whatever may be the size of that, represents a unity\nwhich maybe reduced to one centre of gravity. At this centre of gravity\nthe decision must take place, and to be conqueror here means to defend\nthe theatre of war in the widest sense.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII. Defence of a Theatre of War\u2014(_continued_)\n\nDefence, however, consists of two different elements, these are the\n_decision_ and the _state of expectation_. The combination of these two\nelements forms the subject of this chapter.\n\nFirst we must observe that the state of expectation is not, in point of\nfact, the complete defence; it is only that province of the same in\nwhich it proceeds to its aim. As long as a military force has not\nabandoned the portion of territory placed under its guardianship, the\ntension of forces on both sides created by the attack continues, and\nthis lasts until there is a decision. The decision itself can only be\nregarded as having actually taken place when either the assailant or\ndefender has left the theatre of war.\n\nAs long as an armed force maintains itself within its theatre, the\ndefence of the same continues, and in this sense the defence of the\ntheatre of war is identical with the defence _in the same_. Whether the\nenemy in the meantime has obtained possession of much or little of that\nsection of country is not essential, for it is only lent to him until\nthe decision.\n\nBut this kind of idea by which we wish to settle the proper relation of\nthe state of expectation to the whole is only correct when a decision\nis really to take place, and is regarded by both parties as inevitable.\nFor it is only by that decision that the centres of gravity of the\nrespective forces, and the theatre of war determined through them are\n_effectually_ hit. Whenever the idea of a decisive solution disappears,\nthen the centres of gravity are neutralised, indeed, in a certain\nsense, the whole of the armed forces become so also, and now the\npossession of territory, which forms the second principal branch of the\nwhole theatre of war, comes forward as the direct object. In other\nwords, the less a decisive blow is sought for by both sides in a war,\nand the more it is merely a mutual observation of one another, so much\nthe more important becomes the possession of territory, so much the\nmore the defensive seeks to cover all directly, and the assailant seeks\nto extend his forces in his advance.\n\nNow we cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that the majority of wars\nand campaigns approach much more to a state of observation than to a\nstruggle for life or death, that is, a contest in which one at least of\nthe combatants uses every effort to bring about a complete decision.\nThis last character is only to be found in the wars of the nineteenth\ncentury to such a degree that a theory founded on this point of view\ncan be made use of in relation to them. But as all future wars will\nhardly have this character, and it is rather to be expected that they\nwill again show a tendency to the observation character, therefore any\ntheory to be practically useful must pay attention to that. Hence we\nshall commence with the case in which the desire of a decision\npermeates and guides the whole, therefore with _real_, or if we may use\nthe expression, _absolute war;_ then in another chapter we shall\nexamine those modifications which arise through the approach, in a\ngreater or less degree, to the state of a war of observation.\n\nIn the first case (whether the decision is sought by the aggressor or\nthe defender) the defence of the theatre of war must consist in the\ndefender establishing himself there in such a manner, that in a\ndecision he will have an advantage on his side at any moment. This\ndecision may be either a battle, or a series of great combats, but it\nmay also consist in the resultant of mere relations, which arise from\nthe situation of the opposing forces, that is, _possible combats_.\n\nIf the battle were not also the most powerful, the most usual and most\neffectual means of a decision in war, as we think we have already shown\non several occasions, still the mere fact of its being in a general way\none of the means of reaching this solution, would be sufficient to\nenjoin _the greatest concentration of our forces_ which circumstances\nwill in any way permit. A great battle upon the theatre of war is the\nblow of the centre of force against the centre of force; the more\nforces can be collected in the one or the other, the surer and greater\nwill be the effect. Therefore every separation of forces which is not\ncalled for by an object (which either cannot itself be attained by the\nsuccessful issue of a battle, or which itself is necessary to the\nsuccessful issue of the battle) is _blameable_.\n\nBut the greatest concentration of forces is not the only fundamental\ncondition; it is also requisite that they should have such a position\nand place that the battle may be fought under favourable circumstances.\n\nThe different steps in the defence which we have become acquainted with\nin the chapter on the methods of defence, are completely homogeneous\nwith these fundamental conditions; there will therefore be no\ndifficulty in connecting them with the same, according to the special\nrequirements of each case. But there is one point which seems at first\nsight to involve a contradiction in itself, and which, as one of the\nmost important in the defence, requires explanation so much the more.\nIt is the hitting upon the exact centre of gravity of the enemy\u2019s\nforce.\n\nIf the defender ascertains in time the roads by which the enemy will\nadvance, and upon which in particular the great mass of his force will\nbe found for a certainty, he may march against him on that road. This\nwill be the most usual case, for although the defence precedes the\nattack in measures of a general nature, in the establishment of strong\nplaces, great arsenals, and dep\u00f4ts, and in the peace establishment of\nhis army, and thus gives a line of direction to the assailant in his\npreparations, still, when the campaign really opens, the defender, in\nrelation to the aggressor, has the peculiar advantage in general of\nplaying the last hand.\n\nTo attack a foreign country with a large army, very considerable\npreparations are required. Provisions, stores, and articles of\nequipment of all kinds must be collected, which is a work of time.\nWhile these preparations are going on, the defender has time to prepare\naccordingly, in regard to which we must not forget that the defensive\nrequires less time, generally speaking, because in every state things\nare prepared rather for the defensive than the offensive.\n\nBut although this may hold good in the majority of cases, there is\nalways a possibility that, in particular cases, the defensive may\nremain in uncertainty as to the principal line by which the enemy\nintends to advance; and this case is more likely to occur when the\ndefence is dependent on measures which of themselves take a good deal\nof time, as for example, the preparation of a strong position. Further,\nsupposing the defender places himself on the line by which the\naggressor is advancing, then, unless the defender is prepared to take\nthe initiative by attacking the aggressor, the latter may avoid the\nposition which the defender has taken up, by only altering a little his\nline of advance, for in the cultivated parts of Europe we can never be\nso situated that there are not roads to the right or left by which any\nposition may be avoided. Plainly, in such a case the defender could not\nwait for his enemy in a position, or at least could not wait there in\nthe expectation of giving battle.\n\nBut before entering on the means available to the defensive in this\ncase, we must inquire more particularly into the nature of such a case,\nand the probability of its occurrence.\n\nNaturally there are in every State, and also in every theatre of war\n(of which alone we are at present speaking), objects and points upon\nwhich an attack is likely to be more efficacious than anywhere else.\nUpon this we think it will be better to speak when we come to the\nattack. Here we shall confine ourselves to observing that, if the most\nadvantageous object and point of attack is the motive for the assailant\nin the direction of his blow, this motive reacts on the defensive, and\nmust be his guide in cases in which he knows nothing of the intentions\nof his adversary. If the assailant does not take this direction which\nis favourable to him, he foregoes part of his natural advantages. It is\nevident that, if the defender has taken up a position in that\ndirection, the evading his position, or passing round, is not to be\ndone for nothing; it costs a sacrifice. From this it follows that there\nis not on the side of the defender such a risk of _missing the\ndirection of his enemy;_ neither on the other hand, is it so easy for\nthe assailant _to pass round his adversary_ as appears at first sight,\nbecause there exists beforehand a very distinct, and in most cases\npreponderating, motive in favour of one or the other direction, and\nthat consequently the defender, although his preparations are fixed to\none spot, will not fail in most cases to come in contact with the mass\nof the enemy\u2019s forces. In other words, _if the defender has put himself\nin the right position, he may be almost sure that the assailant will\ncome to meet him._\n\nBut by this we shall not and cannot deny the possibility of the\ndefender sometimes not meeting with the assailant after all these\narrangements, and therefore the question arises, what he should then\ndo, and how much of the real advantages of his position still remain\navailable to him.\n\nIf we ask ourselves what means still remain generally to the defender\nwhen the assailant passes by his position, they are the following:\u2014\n\n1. To divide his forces instantly, so as to be certain to find the\nassailant with one portion, and then to support that portion with the\nother.\n\n2. To take up a position with his force united, and in case the\nassailant passes by him, to push on rapidly in front of him by a\nlateral movement. In most cases there will not be time to make such a\nmovement directly to a flank, it will therefore be necessary to take up\nthe new position somewhat further back.\n\n3. With his whole force to attack the enemy in flank.\n\n4. To operate against his communications.\n\n5. By a counter attack on _his_ theatre of war, to do exactly what the\nenemy has done in passing by us.\n\nWe introduce this last measure, because it is possible to imagine a\ncase in which it may be efficacious; but as it is in contradiction to\nthe object of the defence, that is, the grounds on which that form has\nbeen chosen, therefore it can only be regarded as an abnormity, which\ncan only take place because the enemy has made some great mistake, or\nbecause there are other special features in a particular case.\n\nOperating against the enemy\u2019s communications implies that our own are\nsuperior, which is also one of the fundamental requisites of a good\ndefensive position. But although on that ground this action may promise\nthe defender a certain amount of advantage, still, in the defence of a\ntheatre of war, it is seldom an operation suited to _lead to a\ndecision_, which we have supposed to be the object of the campaign.\n\nThe dimensions of a single theatre of war are seldom so large that the\nline of communications is exposed to much danger by their length, and\neven if they were in danger, still the time which the assailant\nrequires for the execution of his blow is usually too short for his\nprogress to be arrested by the slow effects of the action against his\ncommunications.\n\nTherefore this means (that is the action against the communications)\nwill prove quite inefficacious in most cases against an enemy\ndetermined upon a decision, and also in case the defender seeks such a\nsolution.\n\nThe object of the three other means which remain for the defender, is a\ndirect decision\u2014a meeting of centre of force with centre of force; they\ncorrespond better, therefore, with the thing required. But we shall at\nonce say that we decidedly prefer the third to the other two, and\nwithout quite rejecting the latter, we hold the former to be in the\nmajority of cases the true means of defence.\n\nIn a position where our forces are divided, there is always a danger of\ngetting involved in a war of posts, from which, if our adversary is\nresolute, can follow, under the best of circumstances, only _a relative\ndefence on a large scale_, never a decision such as we desire; and even\nif by superior tact we should be able to avoid this mistake, still, by\nthe preliminary resistance being with divided forces, the first shock\nis sensibly weakened, and we can never be sure that the advanced corps\nfirst engaged will not suffer disproportionate losses. To this is to be\nadded that the resistance of this corps which usually ends in its\nfalling back on the main body, appears to the troops in the light of a\nlost combat, or miscarriage of plans, and the moral force suffers\naccordingly.\n\nThe second means, that of placing our whole force in front of the\nenemy, in whichever direction he may bend his march, involves a risk of\nour arriving too late, and thus between two measures, falling short of\nboth. Besides this, a defensive battle requires coolness and\nconsideration, a knowledge, indeed intimate knowledge of the country,\nwhich cannot be expected in a hasty oblique movement to a flank.\nLastly, positions suitable for a good defensive battle-field are too\nrarely to be met with to reckon upon them at every point of every road.\n\nOn the other hand, the third means, namely to attack the enemy in\nflank, therefore to give battle with a change of front, is attended\nwith great advantages.\n\nFirstly, there is always in this case, as we know, an exposure of the\nlines of communication, here the lines of retreat, and in this respect\nthe defender has one advantage in his general relations as defender,\nand next and chiefly, the advantage which we have claimed for the\nstrategic properties of his position at present.\n\nSecondly,\u2014and this is the principal thing,\u2014every assailant who attempts\nto pass by his opponent is placed between two opposite tendencies. His\nfirst desire is to advance to attain the object of his attack; but the\npossibility of being attacked in flank at any moment, creates a\nnecessity for being prepared, at any moment, to deliver a blow in that\ndirection, and that too a blow with the mass of his forces. These two\ntendencies are contradictory, and beget such a complication in the\ninternal relations (of his army), such a difficulty in the choice of\nmeasures, if they are to suit every event, that there can hardly be a\nmore disagreeable position strategically. If the assailant knew with\ncertainty the moment when he would be attacked, he might prepare to\nreceive the enemy with skill and ability; but in his uncertainty on\nthis point, and pressed by the necessity of advancing, it is almost\ncertain that when the moment for battle arrives, it finds him in the\nmidst of hurried and half-finished preparations, and therefore by no\nmeans in an advantageous relation to his enemy.\n\nIf then there are favourable moments for the defender to deliver an\noffensive battle, it is surely at such a moment as this, above all\nothers, that we may look for success. If we consider, further, that the\nknowledge of the country and choice of ground are on the side of the\ndefender, that he can prepare his movements, and can time them, no one\ncan doubt that he possesses in such a situation a decided superiority,\nstrategically, over his adversary.\n\nWe think, therefore, that a defender occupying a well chosen position,\nwith his forces united, may quietly wait for the enemy passing by his\narmy; should the enemy not attack him in his position, and that an\noperation against the enemy\u2019s communications does not suit the\ncircumstances, there still remains for him an excellent means of\nbringing about a decision by resorting to a flank attack.\n\nIf cases of this kind are hardly to be found in military history, the\nreason is, partly, that the defender has seldom had the courage to\nremain firm in such a position, but has either divided his forces, or\nrashly thrown himself in front of his enemy by a cross or diagonal\nmarch, or that no assailant dares to venture past the defender under\nsuch circumstances, and in that way his movement usually comes to a\nstand still.\n\nThe defender is in this case compelled to resort to an offensive\nbattle: the further advantages of _the state of expectation of a strong\nposition, of good entrenchments_, etc., etc., he must give up; in most\ncases the situation in which he finds the advancing enemy will not\nquite make up for these advantages, for it is just to evade their\ninfluence that the assailant has placed himself in his present\nsituation; still it always offers him _a certain compensation_, and\ntheory is therefore not just obliged to see a quantity disappear at\nonce from the calculation, to see the pro and contra mutually cancel\neach other, as so often happens when critical writers of history\nintroduce a little bit of theory.\n\nIt must not, in fact, be supposed that we are now dealing with logical\nsubtilties; the subject is rather one which the more it is practically\nconsidered, the more it appears as an idea embracing the whole essence\nof defensive war, everywhere dominating and regulating it.\n\nIt is only by the determination on the part of the defender to assail\nhis opponent with all his force, the moment he passes by him, that he\navoids two pitfalls, close to which he is led by the defensive form;\nthat is a division of his force, and a hasty flank march to intercept\nthe assailant in front. In both he accepts the law of the assailant; in\nboth he seeks to aid himself through measures of a very critical\nnature, and with a most dangerous degree of haste; and wherever a\nresolute adversary, thirsting for victory and a decision, has\nencountered such a system of defence, he has knocked it on the head.\nBut when the defender has assembled his forces at the right point to\nfight a general action, if he is determined with this force, come what\nwill, to attack his enemy in flank, he has done right, and is in the\n_right_ course, and he is supported by all the advantages which the\ndefence can give in his situation; his actions will then bear the stamp\n_of good preparation, coolness, security, unity and simplicity._\n\nWe cannot here avoid mentioning a remarkable event in history, which\nhas a close analogy with the ideas now developed; we do so to\nanticipate its being used in a wrong application.\n\nWhen the Prussian army was, in October, 1806, waiting in Thuringia for\nthe French under Buonaparte, the former was posted between the two\ngreat roads on which the latter might be expected to advance, that is,\nthe road to Berlin by Erfurth, and that by Hof and Leipsic. The first\nintention of breaking into Franconia straight through the Thuringian\nForest, and afterwards, when that plan was abandoned, the uncertainty\nas to which of the roads the French would choose for their advance,\ncaused this intermediate position. As such, it must therefore have led\nto the adoption of the measure we have been discussing, a hasty\ninterception of the enemy in front by a lateral movement.\n\nThis was in fact the idea in case the enemy marched by Erfurth, for the\nroads in that direction were good; on the other hand, the idea of a\nmovement of this description on the road by Hof could not be\nentertained, partly because the army was two or three marches away from\nthat road, partly because the deep valley of the Saale interposed;\nneither did this plan ever enter into the views of the Duke of\nBrunswick, so that there was no kind of preparation made for carrying\nit into effect, but it was always contemplated by Prince Hohenlohe,\nthat is, by Colonel Massenbach, who exerted all his influence to draw\nthe Duke into this plan. Still less could the idea be entertained of\nleaving the position which had been taken on the left bank of the Saale\nto try an offensive battle against Buonaparte on his advance, that is,\nto such an attack in flank as we have been considering; for if the\nSaale was an obstacle to intercepting the enemy in the last moment (_\u00e0\nfortiori_) it would be a still greater obstacle to assuming the\noffensive at a moment when the enemy would be in possession of the\nopposite side of the river, at least partially. The Duke, therefore,\ndetermined to wait behind the Saale to see what would happen, that is\nto say, if we can call anything a determination which emanated from\nthis many-headed Headquarters\u2019 Staff, and in this time of confusion and\nutter indecision.\n\nWhatever may have been the true condition of affairs during this state\nof expectation, the consequent situation of the army was this:\u2014\n\n1. That the enemy might be attacked if he crossed the Saale to attack\nthe Prussian army.\n\n2. That if he did not march against that army, operations might be\ncommenced against his communications.\n\n3. If it should be found practicable and advisable, he might be\nintercepted near Leipsic by a rapid flank march.\n\nIn the first case, the Prussian army possessed a great strategic and\ntactical advantage in the deep valley of the Saale. In the second, the\nstrategic advantage was just as great, for the enemy had only a very\nnarrow base between our position and the neutral territory of Bohemia,\nwhilst ours was extremely broad; even in the third case, our army,\ncovered by the Saale, was still by no means in a disadvantageous\nsituation. All these three measures, in spite of the confusion and want\nof any clear perception at head-quarters, _were really discussed;_ but\ncertainly we cannot wonder that, although a right idea may have been\nentertained, it should have entirely failed in the _execution_ by the\ncomplete want of resolution and the confusion generally prevailing.\n\nIn the two first cases, the position on the left bank of the Saale is\nto be regarded as a real flank position, and it had undoubtedly as such\nvery great qualities; but in truth, against a very superior enemy,\n_against a Buonaparte_, a flank position with an army that is not very\nsure about what it is doing, _is a very bold measure_.\n\nAfter long hesitation, the Duke on the 13th adopted the last of the\nplans proposed, but it was too late, Buonaparte had already commenced\nto pass the Saale, and the battles of Jena and Auerstadt were\ninevitable. The Duke, through his indecision, had set himself between\ntwo stools; he quitted his first position too late _to push his army in\nbefore the enemy_, and too soon for a battle suited to the object.\nNevertheless, the natural strength of this position proved itself so\nfar that the Duke was able to destroy the right wing of the enemy\u2019s\narmy at Auerstadt, whilst Prince Hohenlohe, by a bloody retreat, was\nstill able to back out of the scrape; but at Auerstadt they did not\nventure to realise the victory, which was _quite certain;_ and at Jena\nthey thought they might reckon upon one which was _quite impossible_.\n\nIn any case, Buonaparte felt the strategic importance of the position\non the Saale so much, that he did not venture to pass it by, but\ndetermined on a passage of the Saale in sight of the enemy.\n\nBy what we have now said we think we have sufficiently specified the\nrelations between the defence and the attack when a decisive course of\naction is intended, and we believe we have shown also the threads to\nwhich, according to their situation and connection, the different\nsubjects of the plan of defence attach themselves. To go through the\ndifferent arrangements more in detail does not come within our views,\nfor that would lead us into a boundless field of particular cases. When\na general has laid down for his direction a distinct point, he will see\nhow far it agrees with geographical, statistical, and political\ncircumstances, the material and personal relations of his own army and\nthat of the enemy, and how the one or the other may require that his\nplans should be modified in carrying them into effect.\n\nBut in order more distinctly to connect and look closer at the\ngradations in the defence specified in the chapter on the different\nkinds of defence, we shall here lay before our readers what seems to us\nmost important, in relation to the same generally.\n\n1. Reasons for marching against the enemy with a view to an offensive\nbattle, may be as follows:\u2014\n\n(_a_) If we know that the enemy is advancing with his forces very much\ndivided, and therefore we have reason to expect a victory, although we\nare, upon the whole, much weaker.\n\nBut such an advance on the part of the assailant is in itself very\nimprobable, and consequently, unless we know of it upon certain\ninformation, the plan is not good; for to reckon upon it, and rest all\nour hopes on it through a _mere supposition_, and without sufficient\nmotive, leads generally to a very dangerous situation. We do not, then,\nfind things as we expected; we are obliged to give up the offensive\nbattle, we are not prepared to fight on the defensive, we are obliged\nto commence with a retreat against our will, and leave almost\neverything to chance.\n\nThis is very much what occurred in the defence, conducted by the army\nunder Dohna against the Russians, in the campaign of 1759, and which,\nunder General Wedel, ended in the unfortunate battle of Z\u00fcllichau.\n\nThis measure shortens matters so much that plan-makers are only too\nready to propose it, without taking much trouble to inquire how far the\nhypothesis on which it rests is well founded.\n\n(_b_) If we are generally in sufficient strength for battle, and\u2014\n\n(_c_) If a blundering, irresolute adversary specially invites an\nattack.\n\nIn this case the effect of surprise may be worth more than any\nassistance furnished by the ground through a good position. It is the\nreal essence of good generalship thus to bring into play the power of\nthe moral forces;\u2014but theory can never say loud enough nor often enough\nthere must be an _objective foundation_ for these suppositions; without\n_such foundation_ to be always talking of surprises and the superiority\nof novel or unusual modes of attack, and thereon to found plans,\nconsiderations, criticisms, is acting without any grounds, and is\naltogether objectionable.\n\n(_d_) When the nature of our army makes it specially suited for the\noffensive.\n\nIt was certainly not a visionary or false idea when Frederick the Great\nconceived that in his mobile, courageous army, full of confidence in\nhim, obedient by habit, trained to precision, animated and elevated by\npride, and with its perfection in the oblique attack, he possessed an\ninstrument which, in his firm and daring hand, was much more suited to\nattack than defence; all these qualities were wanting in his opponents,\nand in this respect, therefore, he had the most decided superiority; to\nmake use of this was worth more to him, in most cases, than to take to\nhis assistance entrenchments and obstacles of ground.\u2014But such a\nsuperiority will always be rare; a well-trained army, thoroughly\npractised in great movements, has only part of the above advantages. If\nFrederick the Great maintained that the Prussian army was particularly\nadapted for attack\u2014and this has been incessantly repeated since his\ntime\u2014still we should not attach too much weight to any such saying; in\nmost cases in war we feel more exhilarated, more courageous when acting\noffensively than defensively: but this is a feeling which all troops\nhave in common, and there is hardly an army respecting which its\ngenerals and leaders have not made the same assertion (as Frederick).\nWe must, therefore, not too readily rely on an appearance of\nsuperiority, and through that neglect real advantages.\n\nA very natural and weighty reason for resorting to an offensive battle\nmay be the composition of the army as regards the three arms, for\ninstance, a numerous cavalry and little artillery.\n\nWe continue the enumeration of reasons.\n\n(_e_) When we can nowhere find a good position.\n\n(_f_) When we must hasten with the decision.\n\n(_g_) Lastly, the combined influence of several or all of these\nreasons.\n\n2. The waiting for the enemy in a locality where it is intended to\nattack him (Minden, 1759) naturally proceeds from\u2014\n\n_a_, there being no such disproportion of force to our disadvantage as\nto make it necessary to seek a strong position and strengthen it by\nentrenchments.\n\n_b_, a locality having been found particularly adapted to the purpose.\nThe properties which determine this belong to tactics; we shall only\nobserve that these properties chiefly consist in an easy approach for\nthe defender from his side, and in all kinds of obstacles on the side\nnext to the enemy.\n\n3. A position will be taken with the express intention of there waiting\nthe attack of the enemy\u2014\n\n_a._ If the disproportion of forces compels us to seek cover from\nnatural obstacles or behind field-works.\n\n_b._ When the country affords an excellent position for our purpose.\n\nThe two modes of defence, 2 and 3, will come more into consideration\naccording as we do not seek the decision itself, but content ourselves\nwith a negative result, and have reason to think that our opponent is\nwavering and irresolute, and that he will in the end fail to carry out\nhis plans.\n\n4. An entrenched unassailable camp only fulfils the object\u2014\n\n_a._ If it is situated at an extremely important strategic point.\n\nThe character of such a position consists in this, that we cannot be\ndriven out of it; the enemy is therefore obliged to try some other\nmeans, that is, to pursue his object without touching this camp, or to\nblockade it and reduce it by starvation: if it is impossible for him to\ndo this, then the strategic qualities of the position must be very\ngreat.\n\n_b._ If we have reason to expect aid from abroad.\n\nSuch was the case with the Saxon army in its position at Pirna.\nNotwithstanding all that has been said against the measure on account\nof the ill-success which attended it in this instance, it is perfectly\ncertain that 17,000 Saxons could never have been able to neutralise\n40,000 Prussians in any other way. If the Austrians were unable to make\nbetter use of the superiority obtained at Lowositz, that only shows the\nbadness of their whole method of war, as well as of their whole\nmilitary organisation; and there cannot be a doubt that if the Saxons\ninstead of taking post in the camp at Pirna had retired into Bohemia,\nFrederick the Great would have driven both Austrians and Saxons beyond\nPrague, and taken that place in the same campaign. Whoever does not\nadmit the value of this advantage, and limits his consideration to the\ncapture of the whole Saxon army, shows himself incapable of making a\ncalculation of all the circumstances in a case of this kind, and\nwithout calculation no certain deduction can be obtained.\n\nBut as the cases _a_ and _b_ very rarely occur, therefore, the\nentrenched camp is a measure which requires to be well considered, and\nwhich is very seldom suitable in practice. The hope of _inspiring_ the\nenemy _with respect_ by such a camp, and thus reducing him to a state\nof complete inactivity, is attended with too much danger, namely, with\nthe danger of being obliged to fight without the possibility of\nretreat. If Frederick the Great gained his object in this way at\nBunzelwitz, we must admire the correct judgment he formed of his\nadversary, but we must certainly also lay more stress than usual on the\nresources which he would have found at the last moment to clear a road\nfor the remnants of his army, and also on the _irresponsibility_ of a\nking.\n\n5. If there is one or if there are several fortresses near the\nfrontier, then the great question arises, whether the defender should\nseek an action before or behind them. The latter recommends itself\u2014\n\n_a_, by the superiority of the enemy in numbers, which forces us to\nbreak his power before coming to a final struggle.\n\n_b_, by these fortresses being near, so that the sacrifice of territory\nis not greater than we are compelled to make.\n\n_c_, by the fitness _of the fortresses for defence_.\n\nOne principal use of fortresses is unquestionably, or should be, to\nbreak the enemy\u2019s force in his advance and to weaken considerably that\nportion which we intend to bring to an engagement. If we so seldom see\nthis use made of fortresses, that proceeds from the cases in which a\ndecisive battle is sought for by one of the opposing parties being very\nrare. But that is the only kind of case which we treat of here. We\ntherefore look upon it as a principle equally simple and important in\nall cases in which the defender has one or more fortresses near him,\nthat he should keep them before him, and give the decisive battle\nbehind them. We admit that a battle lost within the line of our\nfortresses will compel us to retreat further into the interior of the\ncountry than one lost on the other side, tactical results in both cases\nbeing the same, although the causes of the difference have their origin\nrather in the imagination than in real things; neither do we forget\nthat a battle may be given beyond the fortresses in a well chosen\nposition, whilst inside them the battle in most cases must be an\noffensive one, particularly if the enemy is laying siege to a fortress\nwhich is in danger of being lost; but what signify these nice shades of\ndistinction, as compared to the advantage that, in the decisive battle,\nwe meet the enemy weakened by a fourth or a third of his force, perhaps\none half if there are many fortresses?\n\nWe think, therefore, that in all cases of _an inevitable decision_,\nwhether sought for by the offensive or the defensive, and that the\nlatter is not tolerably sure of a victory, or if the nature of the\ncountry does not offer some most decisive reason to give battle in a\nposition further forward\u2014in all these cases we say when a fortress is\nsituated near at hand and capable of defence, the defender should by\nall means withdraw at once behind it, and let the decision take place\non this side, consequently with its co-operation. If he takes up his\nposition so close to the fortress that the assailant can neither form\nthe siege of nor blockade the place without first driving him off, he\nplaces the assailant under the necessity of attacking him, the\ndefender, in his position. To us, therefore, of all defensive measures\nin a critical situation, none appears so simple and efficacious as the\nchoice of a good position near to and behind a strong fortress.\n\nAt the same time, the question would wear a different aspect if the\nfortress was situated far back; for then it would be necessary to\nabandon a considerable part of our theatre of war, a sacrifice which,\nas we know, should not be made unless in a case of great urgency. In\nsuch a case the measure would bear more resemblance to a retreat into\nthe interior of the country.\n\nAnother condition is, the fitness of the place for defence. It is well\nknown that there are fortified places, especially large ones, which are\nnot fit to be brought into contact with an enemy\u2019s army, because they\ncould not resist the sudden assault of a powerful force. In this case,\nour position must at all events be so close behind that we could\nsupport the garrison.\n\nLastly, the retreat into the interior of the country is only a natural\nresource under the following circumstances:\u2014\n\n_a_, when owing to the physical and moral relation in which we stand as\nrespects the enemy, the idea of a successful resistance on the frontier\nor near it cannot be entertained.\n\n_b_, when it is a principal object to gain time.\n\n_c_, when there are peculiarities in the country which are favourable\nto the measure, a subject on which we have already treated in the\ntwenty-fifth chapter.\n\nWe thus close the chapter on the defence of a theatre of war if a\ndecisive solution is sought for by one or other party, and is therefore\ninevitable. But it must be particularly borne in mind, that events in\nwar do not exhibit themselves in such a pure abstract form, and that\ntherefore, if our maxims and arguments should be used in reasoning on\nactual war, our thirtieth chapter should also be kept in view, and we\nmust suppose the general, in the majority of cases, as placed between\ntwo tendencies, urged _more_ towards one or the other, according to\ncircumstances.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_) Successive\nResistance.\n\nWe have proved, in the twelfth and thirteenth chapters, that in\nstrategy a successive resistance is inconsistent with the nature of the\nthing, and that all forces available should be used simultaneously.\n\nAs regards forces which are moveable, this requires no further\ndemonstration; but when we look at the seat of war itself, with its\nfortresses, the natural divisions of the ground, and even the extent of\nits surface as being also elements of war, then, these being immovable,\nwe can only either bring them gradually into use, or we must at once\nplace ourselves so far back, that all agencies of this kind which are\nto be brought into activity are in our front. Then everything which can\ncontribute to weaken the enemy in the territory which he has occupied,\ncomes at once into activity, for the assailant must at least blockade\nthe defender\u2019s fortresses, he must keep the country in subjection by\ngarrisons and other posts, he has long marches to make, and everything\nhe requires must be brought from a distance, etc. All these agencies\ncommence to work, whether the assailant makes _his advance before or\nafter_ a decision, but in the former case their influence is somewhat\ngreater. From this, therefore, it follows, that if the defender chooses\nto transfer his decision to a point further back, he has thus the means\nof bringing at once into play all these immovable elements of military\nforce.\n\nOn the other hand, it is clear that this _transfer of the solution_ (on\nthe part of the defender) does not alter the extent of the influence of\na victory which the assailant gains. In treating of the attack, we\nshall examine more closely the extent of the influence of a victory;\nhere we shall only observe that it reaches to the exhaustion of the\nsuperiority, that is, the resultant of the physical and moral\nrelations. Now this superiority exhausts itself in the first place by\nthe duties required from the forces on the theatre of war, and secondly\nby losses in combats; the diminution of force arising from these two\ncauses cannot be essentially altered, whether the combats take place at\nthe commencement or at the end, near the frontier, or further towards\nthe interior of the country (vom oder hinten). We think, for example,\nthat a victory gained by Buonaparte over the Russians at Wilna, 1812,\nwould have carried him just as far as that of Borodino\u2014assuming that it\nwas equally great\u2014and that a victory at Moscow would not have carried\nhim any further; Moscow was, in either case, the limit of this sphere\nof victory. Indeed, it cannot be doubted for a moment that a decisive\nbattle on the frontier (for other reasons) would have produced much\ngreater results through victory, and then, perhaps, the sphere of its\ninfluence would have been wider. Therefore, in this view, also, the\ntransfer of the decision to a point further back is not necessary for\nthe defence.\n\nIn the chapter on the various means of resistance, that method of\ndelaying the decision, which may be regarded as an extreme form, was\nbrought before us under the name of _retreat into the interior_, and as\na particular method of defence, in which the object is rather that the\nassailant should wear himself out, than that he should be destroyed by\nthe sword on the field of battle. But it is only when such an intention\npredominates that the delaying of the decisive battle can be regarded\nas a _peculiar method of resistance;_ for otherwise it is evident that\nan infinite number of gradations may be conceived in this method, and\nthat these may be combined with all other means of defence. We\ntherefore look upon the greater or less co-operation of the theatre of\nwar, not as a special form of defence, but as nothing more than a\ndiscretionary introduction into the defence of the immovable means of\nresistance, just according as circumstances and the nature of the\nsituation may appear to require.\n\nBut now, if the defender does not think he requires any assistance from\nthese immovable forces for his purposed decision, or if the further\nsacrifice connected with the use of them is too great, then they are\nkept in reserve for the future, and form a sort of succession of\nreinforcements, which perhaps ensure the possibility of keeping the\nmoveable forces in such a condition that they will be able to follow up\nthe first favourable decision with a second, or perhaps in the same\nmanner even with a third, that is to say, in this manner a _successive_\napplication of his forces becomes possible.\n\nIf the defender loses a battle on the frontier, which does not amount\nto a complete defeat, we may very well imagine that, by placing himself\nbehind the nearest fortress, he will then be in a condition to accept\nbattle again; indeed, if he is only dealing with an opponent who has\nnot much resolution, then, perhaps, some considerable obstacle of\nground will be quite sufficient as a means of stopping the enemy.\n\nThere is, therefore, in strategy, in the use of the theatre of war as\nwell as in everything else, _an economy of force;_ the less one can\nmake suffice the better: but there must be sufficient, and here, as\nwell as in commerce, there is something to be thought of besides mere\nniggardliness.\n\nBut in order to prevent a great misconception, we must draw attention\nto this, that the subject of our present consideration is not how much\nresistance an army can offer, or the enterprises which it can undertake\nafter a lost battle, but only the result which we can promise ourselves\n_beforehand_ from this second act in our defence; consequently, how\nhigh we can estimate it in our plan. Here there is only one point\nalmost which the defender has to look to, which is the character and\nthe situation of his opponent. An adversary weak in character, with\nlittle self-confidence, without noble ambition, placed under great\nrestrictions, will content himself, in case he is successful, with a\nmoderate advantage, and timidly hold back at every fresh offer of a\ndecision which the defender ventures to make. In this case the defender\nmay count upon the beneficial use of all the means of resistance of his\ntheatre of war in succession, in constantly fresh, although in\nthemselves small, combats, in which the prospect always brightens of an\nultimate decision in his favour.\n\nBut who does not feel that we are now on the road to campaigns devoid\nof decision, which are much more the field of a successive application\nof force. Of these we shall speak in the following chapter.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_) When no Decision\nis Sought for.\n\nWhether and how far a war is possible in which neither party acts on\nthe offensive, therefore in which neither combatant has a _positive\naim_, we shall consider in the last book; here it is not necessary for\nus to occupy ourselves with the contradiction which this presents,\nbecause on a single theatre of war we can easily suppose reasons for\nsuch a defensive on both sides, consequent on the relations of each of\nthese parts to a whole.\n\nBut in addition to the examples which history furnishes of particular\ncampaigns that have taken place without the focus of a necessary\nsolution, history also tells us of many others in which there was no\nwant of an assailant, consequently no want of a _positive will_ on one\nside, but in which that will was so weak that instead of striving to\nattain the object at any price, and forcing the _necessary_ decision,\nit contented itself with such advantages as arose in a manner\nspontaneously out of circumstances. Or the assailant pursued _no_\nself-selected end _at all_, but made his object depend on\ncircumstances, in the meanwhile gathering such fruits as presented\nthemselves from time to time.\n\nAlthough such an offensive which deviates very much from the strict\nlogical necessity of a direct march towards the object, and which,\nalmost like a lounger sauntering through the campaign, looking out\nright and left for the cheap fruits of opportunity, differs very little\nfrom the defensive itself, which allows the general to pick up what he\ncan in this way, still we shall give the closer philosophical\nconsideration of this kind of warfare a place in the book on the\nattack. Here we shall confine ourselves to the conclusion that in such\na campaign the settlement of the whole question is not looked for by\neither assailant or defender through a decisive battle, that,\ntherefore, the great battle is no longer the key-stone of the arch,\ntowards which all the lines of the strategic superstructure are\ndirected. Campaigns of this kind (as the history of all times and all\ncountries shows us) are not only numerous, but form such an\noverwhelming majority, that the remainder only appear as exceptions.\nEven if this proportion should alter in the future, still it is certain\nthat there will always be many such campaigns; and, therefore, in\nstudying the theory of the defence of a theatre of war, they must be\nbrought into consideration. We shall endeavour to describe the\npeculiarities by which they are characterised. Real war will generally\nbe in a medium between the two different tendencies, sometimes\napproaching nearer to one, sometimes to the other, and we can,\ntherefore, only see the practical effect of these peculiarities in the\nmodification which is produced, in the _absolute form_ of war by their\ncounteraction. We have already said in the third chapter of this book,\nthat the _state of expectation_ is one of the greatest advantages which\nthe defensive has over the offensive; as a general rule, it seldom\nhappens in life, and least of all in war, that _all_ that circumstances\nwould lead us to expect does actually take place. The imperfection of\nhuman insight, the fear of evil results, accidents which derange the\ndevelopment of designs in their execution, are causes through which\nmany of the transactions enjoined by circumstances are never realised\nin the execution. In war where insufficiency of knowledge, the danger\nof a catastrophe, the number of accidents are incomparably greater than\nin any other branch of human activity, the number of shortcomings, if\nwe may so call them, must necessarily also be much greater. This is\nthen the rich field where the defensive gathers fruits which grow for\nit spontaneously. If we add to this result of experience the\nsubstantial importance of the possession of the surface of the ground\nin war, then that maxim which has become a proverb, _beati sunt\npossidentes_, holds good here as well as in peace. It is _this maxim_\nwhich here takes the place of the decision, that focus of all action in\nevery war directed to _mutual destruction_. It is fruitful beyond\nmeasure, not in actions which it calls forth, but in motives for not\nacting, and for all that action which is done in the interest of\ninaction. When no decision is to be sought for or expected, there is no\nreason for giving up anything, for that could only be done to gain\nthereby some advantage in the decision. The consequence is that the\ndefender keeps all, or at least as much as he can (that is as much as\nhe can cover), and the assailant takes possession of so much as he can\nwithout involving himself in a decision, (that is, he will extend\nhimself laterally as much as possible). We have only to deal with the\nfirst in this place.\n\nWherever the defender is not present with his military forces, the\nassailant can take possession, and then the advantage of the state of\nexpectation is on _his side;_ hence the endeavour to cover the country\neverywhere directly, and to take the chance of the assailant attacking\nthe troops posted for this purpose.\n\nBefore we go further into the special properties of the defence, we\nmust extract from the book on the attack those objects which the\nassailant usually aims at when the decision (by battle) is not sought.\nThey are as follows:\u2014\n\n1. The seizure of a considerable strip of territory, as far as that can\nbe done without a decisive engagement.\n\n2. The capture of an important magazine under the same condition.\n\n3. The capture of a fortress not covered. No doubt a siege is more or\nless a great operation, often requiring great labour; but it is an\nundertaking which does not contain the elements of a catastrophe. If it\ncomes to the worst, the siege can be raised without thereby suffering a\ngreat positive loss.\n\n4. Lastly, a successful combat of some importance, but in which there\nis not much risked, and consequently not much to be gained; a combat\nwhich takes place not as the cardinal knot of a whole strategic bond,\nbut on its own account for the sake of trophies or honour of the\ntroops. For such an object, of course, a combat is not fought _at any\nprice;_ we either wait for the chance of a favourable opportunity, or\nseek to bring one about by skill.\n\nThese four objects of attack give rise to the following efforts on the\npart of the defence:\u2014\n\n1. To cover the fortresses by keeping them behind us.\n\n2. To cover the country by extending the troops over it.\n\n3. Where the extension is not sufficient, to throw the army rapidly in\nfront of the enemy by a flank march.\n\n4. To guard against disadvantageous combats.\n\nIt is clear that the object of the first three measures is to force on\nthe enemy the initiative, and to derive the utmost advantage from the\nstate of expectation, and this object is so deeply rooted in the nature\nof the thing that it would be great folly to despise it _prima facie_.\nIt must necessarily occupy a higher place the less a decision is\nexpected, and it is the ruling principle in all such campaigns, even\nalthough, apparently, a considerable degree of activity may be\nmanifested in small actions of an indecisive character.\n\nHannibal as well as Fabius, and both Frederick the Great and Daun, have\ndone homage to this principle whenever they did not either seek for or\nexpect a decision. The fourth effort serves as a corrective to the\nthree others, it is their conditio _sine qu\u00e2 non_.\n\nWe shall now proceed to examine these subjects a little more closely.\n\nAt first sight it appears somewhat preposterous to protect a fortress\nfrom the enemy\u2019s attack by placing an army in _front of it;_ such a\nmeasure looks like a kind of pleonasm, as fortifications are built to\nresist a hostile attack of themselves. Yet it is a measure which we see\nresorted to thousands and thousands of times. But thus it is in the\nconduct of war; the most common things often seem the most\nincomprehensible. Who would presume to pronounce these thousands of\ninstances to be so many blunders on the ground of this seeming\ninconsistency? The constant repetition of the measure shows that it\nmust proceed from some deep-seated motive. This reason is, however, no\nother than that pointed out above, emanating from moral sluggishness\nand inactivity.\n\nIf the defender places himself in front of his fortress, the enemy\ncannot attack it unless he first beats the army in front of it; but a\nbattle is a decision; if that is _not_ the enemy\u2019s object then there\nwill be no battle, and the defender will remain in possession of his\nfortress without striking a blow; consequently, whenever we do not\nbelieve the enemy intends to fight a battle, we should venture on the\nchance of his not making up his mind to do so, especially as in most\ncases we still retain the power of withdrawing behind the fortress in a\nmoment, if, contrary to our expectation, the enemy should march to\nattack us; the position before the fortress is in this way free from\ndanger, and the probability of maintaining the _status quo_ without any\nsacrifice, is not even attended with the _slightest_ risk.\n\nIf the defender places himself behind the fortress, he offers the\nassailant an object which is exactly suited to the circumstances in\nwhich the latter is placed. If the fortress is not of great strength,\nand he is not quite unprepared, he will commence the siege: in order\nthat this may not end in the fall of the place, the defender must march\nto its relief. The positive action, the initiative, is now laid on him,\nand the adversary who by his siege is to be regarded as advancing\ntowards his object, is in the situation of occupier.\n\nExperience teaches that the matter always takes this turn, and it does\nso naturally. A catastrophe, as we have before said, is not necessarily\nbound up with a siege. Even a general, devoid of either the spirit of\nenterprise or energy, who would never make up his mind to a battle,\nwill proceed to undertake a siege with perhaps nothing but field\nartillery, when he can approach a fortress without risk. At the worst\nhe can abandon his undertaking without any positive loss. There always\nremains to be considered the danger to which most fortresses are more\nor less exposed, that of being taken by assault, or in some other\nirregular manner, and this circumstance should certainly not be\noverlooked by the defender in his calculation of probabilities.\n\nIn weighing and considering the different chances, it seems natural\nthat the defender should look upon the probability of not having to\nfight at all as more for his advantage than the probability of fighting\neven under _favourable circumstances_. And thus it appears to us that\nthe practice of placing an army in the field before its fortress, is\nboth natural and fully explained. Frederick the Great, for instance, at\nGlogau, against the Russians, at Schwednitz, Neiss, and Dresden,\nagainst the Austrians, almost always adopted it. This measure, however,\nbrought misfortune on the Duke of Bevern at Breslau; _behind_ Breslau\nhe could not have been attacked; the superiority of the Austrians in\nthe king\u2019s absence would soon cease, as he was approaching; and\ntherefore, by a position _behind_ Breslau, a battle might have been\navoided until Frederick\u2019s arrival. No doubt the Duke would have\npreferred that course if it had not been that it would have exposed\nthat important place to a bombardment, at which the king, who was\nanything but tolerant on such occasions, would have been highly\ndispleased. _The attempt made_ by the Duke to protect Breslau by an\nentrenched position taken up for the purpose, cannot after all be\ndisapproved, for it was very possible that Prince Charles of Lorraine,\ncontented with the capture of Schwednitz, and threatened by the march\nof the king, would, by that position, have been prevented from\nadvancing farther. The best thing he could have done would have been to\nrefuse the battle at the last by withdrawing through Breslau at the\nmoment that the Austrians advanced to the attack; in this way he would\nhave got all the advantages of the state of expectation without paying\nfor them by a great danger.\n\nIf we have here traced the position _before_ a fortress to reasons of a\nsuperior and absolute order, and defended its adoption on those\ngrounds, we have still to observe that there is a motive of a secondary\nclass which, though a more obvious one, is not sufficient of itself\nalone, not being absolute; we refer to the use which is made by armies\nof the nearest fortress as a dep\u00f4t of provisions and munitions of war.\nThis is so convenient, and presents so many advantages, that a general\nwill not easily make up his mind to draw his supplies of all kinds from\nmore distant places, or to lodge them in open towns. But if a fortress\nis the great magazine of an army, then the position before it is\nfrequently a matter of absolute necessity, and in most cases is very\nnatural. But it is easy to see that this obvious motive, which is\neasily over-valued by those who are not in the habit of looking far\nbefore them, is neither sufficient to explain all cases, nor are the\ncircumstances connected with it of sufficient importance to entitle it\nto give a final decision.\n\nThe capture of one or more fortresses without risking a battle, is such\na very natural object of all attacks which do not aim at a decision on\nthe field of battle, that the defender makes it his principal business\nto thwart this design. Thus it is that on theatres of war, containing a\nnumber of fortresses, we find these places made the pivots of almost\nall the movements; we find the assailant seeking to approach one of\nthem unexpectedly, and employing various feints to aid his purpose, and\nthe defender immediately seeking to stop him by well-prepared\nmovements. Such is the general character of almost all the campaigns of\nLouis XIV. in the Netherlands up to the time of Marshal Saxe.\n\nSo much for the covering of fortresses.\n\nThe covering of a country by an extended disposition of forces, is only\nconceivable in combination with very considerable obstacles of ground.\nThe great and small posts which must be formed for the purpose, can\nonly get a certain capability of resistance through strength of\nposition; and as natural obstacles are seldom found sufficient,\ntherefore field fortification is made use of as an assistance. But now\nit is to be observed that, the power of resistance which is thus\nobtained at any one point, is always only _relative_ (see the chapter\non the signification of the combat), and never to be regarded as\n_absolute_. It may certainly happen that one such post may remain proof\nagainst all attacks made upon it, and that therefore in a single\ninstance there may be an absolute result; but from the great number of\nposts, any single one, in comparison to the whole, appears weak, and\nexposed to the possible attack of an overwhelming force, and\nconsequently it would be unreasonable to place one\u2019s dependence for\nsafety on the resistance of any one single post. In such an extended\nposition, we can therefore only count on a resistance of relative\nlength, and not upon a victory, properly speaking. This value of single\nposts, at the same time, is also sufficient for the object, and for a\ngeneral calculation. In campaigns in which no great decision, no\nirresistible march, towards the complete subjugation of the whole force\nis to be feared, there is little risk in a combat of posts, even if it\nends in the loss of a post. There is seldom any further result in\nconnection with it than the loss of the post and a few trophies; the\ninfluence of victory penetrates no further into the situation of\naffairs, it does not tear down any part of the foundation to be\nfollowed by a mass of building in ruin. In the worst case, if, for\ninstance, the whole defensive system is disorganised by the loss of a\nsingle post, the defender has always time to concentrate his corps, and\nwith his whole force to _offer battle_, which the assailant, according\nto our supposition, does not desire. Therefore also it usually happens\nthat with this concentration of force the act closes, and the further\nadvance of the assailant is stopped. A strip of land, a few men and\nguns, are the losses of the defender, and with these results the\nassailant is satisfied.\n\nTo such a risk we say the defender may very well expose himself, if he\nhas, on the other hand, the possibility, or rather the probability, in\nhis favour, that the assailant from excessive caution will halt before\nhis posts without attacking them. Only in regard to this we must not\nlose sight of the fact, that we are now supposing an assailant who will\nnot venture upon any great stroke, a moderate sized, but strong post\nwill very well serve to stop such an adversary, for although he can\nundoubtedly make himself master of it, still the question arises as to\nthe price it will cost, and whether that price is not too high for any\nuse that he can make of the victory.\n\nIn this way we may see how the powerful relative resistance which the\ndefender can obtain from an extended disposition, consisting of a\nnumber of posts in juxtaposition with each other, may constitute a\nsatisfactory result in the calculation of his whole campaign. In order\nto direct at once to the right point the glance which the reader, with\nhis mind\u2019s eye, will here cast upon military history, we must observe\nthat these extended positions appear most frequently in the latter half\nof a campaign, because by that time the defender has become thoroughly\nacquainted with his adversary, with his projects, and his situation;\nand the little quantity of the spirit of enterprise with which the\nassailant started, is usually exhausted.\n\nIn this defensive, in an extended position by which the _country_, the\n_supplies_, the _fortresses_ are to be covered, all great natural\nobstacles, such as streams, rivers, mountains, woods, morasses, must\nnaturally play a great part, and acquire a predominant importance. Upon\ntheir use we refer to what has been already said on these subjects.\n\nIt is through this predominant importance of the topographical element\nthat the knowledge and activity which are looked upon as the speciality\nof the general staff of an army are more particularly called into\nrequisition. Now, as the staff of the army is usually that branch which\nwrites and publishes most, it follows that these parts of campaigns are\nrecorded more fully in history; and then again from that there follows\na not unnatural tendency to systematise them, and to frame out of the\nhistorical solution of one case a general solution for all succeeding\ncases. But this endeavour is futile, and therefore erroneous. Besides,\nin this more passive kind of war, in this form of it which is tied to\nlocalities, each case is different to another, and must be differently\ntreated. The ablest memoirs of a critical character respecting these\nsubjects are therefore only suited to make one acquainted with facts,\nbut never to serve as dictates.\n\nNatural, and at the same time meritorious, as is this industry which,\naccording to the general view, we have attributed to the staff in\nparticular, still we must raise a warning voice against usurpations\nwhich often spring from it to the prejudice of the whole. The authority\nacquired by those who are at the head of, and best acquainted with,\nthis branch of military service, gives them often a sort of general\ndominion over people\u2019s minds, beginning with the general himself, and\nfrom this then springs a routine of ideas which causes an undue bias of\nthe mind. At last the general sees nothing but mountains and passes,\nand that which should be a measure of free choice guided by\ncircumstances becomes mannerism, becomes second nature.\n\nThus in the year 1793 and 1794, Colonel Grawert of the Prussian army,\nwho was the animating spirit of the staff at that time, and well known\nas a regular man for mountains and passes, persuaded two generals of\nthe most opposite personal characteristics, the Duke of Brunswick and\nGeneral Mollendorf, into exactly the same method of carrying on war.\n\nThat a defensive line parallel to the course of a formidable natural\nobstacle may lead to a cordon war is quite plain. It must, in most\ncases, necessarily lead to that if really the whole extent of the\ntheatre of war could be directly covered in that manner. But most\ntheatres of war have such an extent, that the normal tactical\ndisposition of the troops destined for its defence would be by no means\ncommensurate with that object; at the same time as the assailant, by\nhis own dispositions and other circumstances, is confined to certain\nprincipal directions and great roads, and any great deviations from\nthese directions, even if he is only opposed to a very inactive\ndefender, would be attended with great embarrassment and disadvantage,\ntherefore generally all that the defender has to do is to cover the\ncountry for a certain number of miles or marches right and left of\nthese principal lines of direction of his adversary. But again to\neffect this covering, we may be contented with defensive posts on the\nprincipal roads and means of approach, and merely watch the country\nbetween by small posts of observation. The consequence of this is\ncertainly that the assailant may then pass a column between two of\nthese posts, and thus make the attack, which he has in view, upon one\npost from several quarters at once. Now, these posts are in some\nmeasure arranged to meet this, partly by their having supports for\ntheir flanks, partly by the formation of flank defences (called\ncrochets), partly by their being able to receive assistance from a\nreserve posted in rear, or by troops detached from adjoining posts. In\nthis manner the number of posts is reduced still more, and the result\nis that an army engaged in a defence of this kind, usually divides\nitself into four or five principal posts.\n\nFor important points of approach, beyond a certain distance, and yet in\nsome measure threatened, special central points are established which,\nin a certain measure, form small theatres of war within the principal\none. In this manner the Austrians, during the Seven Years\u2019 War,\ngenerally placed the main body of their army, in four or five posts in\nthe mountains of Lower Silesia; whilst a small almost independent corps\norganised for itself a similar system of defence in Upper Silesia.\n\nNow, the further such a defensive system diverges from direct covering,\nthe more it must call to its assistance\u2014mobility (active defence), and\neven offensive means. Certain corps are considered reserves; besides\nwhich, one post hastens to send to the help of another all the troops\nit can spare. This assistance may be rendered either by hastening up\ndirectly from the rear to reinforce and re-establish the passive\ndefence, or by attacking the enemy in flank, or even by menacing his\nline of retreat. If the assailant threatens the flank of a post not\nwith direct attack, but only by a position through which he can act\nupon the communications of this post, then either the corps which has\nbeen advanced for this purpose must be attacked in earnest, or the way\nof reprisal must be resorted to by acting in turn on the enemy\u2019s\ncommunications.\n\nWe see, therefore, that however passive this defence is in the leading\nideas on which it is based, still it must comprise many active means,\nand in its organisation may be forearmed in many ways against\ncomplicated events. Usually those defences pass for the best which make\nthe most use of active or even offensive means; but this depends in\ngreat part on the nature of the country, the characteristics of the\ntroops, and even on the talent of the general; partly we are also very\nprone in general to expect too much from movement, and other auxiliary\nmeasures of an active nature, and to place too little reliance on the\nlocal defence of a formidable natural obstacle. We think we have thus\nsufficiently explained what we understand by an extended line of\ndefence, and we now turn to the third auxiliary means, the placing\nourselves in front of the enemy by a rapid march to a flank.\n\nThis means is necessarily one of those provided for that defence of a\ncountry which we are now considering. In the first place the defender,\neven with the most extended position, often cannot guard all the\napproaches to his country which are menaced; next, in many cases, he\nmust be ready to repair with the bulk of his forces to any posts upon\nwhich the bulk of the enemy\u2019s force is about to be thrown, as otherwise\nthose posts would be too easily overpowered; lastly, a general who has\nan aversion to confining his army to a passive resistance in an\nextended position, must seek to attain his object, the protection of\nthe country, by rapid, well-planned, and well-conducted movements. The\ngreater the spaces which he leaves exposed, the greater the talent\nrequired in planning the movements, in order to arrive anywhere at the\nright moment of time.\n\nThe natural consequence of striving to do this is, that in such a case,\npositions which afford sufficient advantages to make an enemy give up\nall idea of an attack as soon as our army, or only a portion of it,\nreaches them, are sought for and prepared in all directions. As these\npositions are again and again occupied, and all depends on reaching the\nsame in right time, they are in a certain measure the vowels of all\nthis method of carrying on war, which on that account has been termed a\n_war of posts_.\n\nJust as an extended position, and the relative resistance in a war\n_without great decisions_, do not present the dangers which are\ninherent in its original nature, so in the same manner the intercepting\nthe enemy in front by a march to a flank is not so hazardous as it\nwould be in the immediate expectation of a great decision. To attempt\nat the last moment in greatest haste (by a lateral movement) to thrust\nin an army in front of an adversary of determined character, who is\nboth able and willing to deal heavy blows, and has no scruples about an\nexpenditure of forces, would be half way to a most decisive disaster;\nfor against an unhesitating blow delivered with the enemy\u2019s whole\nstrength, such running and stumbling into a position would not do. But\nagainst an opponent who, instead of taking up his work with his whole\nhand, uses only the tips of his fingers, who does not know how to make\nuse of a great result, or rather of the opening for one, who only seeks\na trifling advantage but at small expense, against such an opponent\nthis kind of resistance certainly may be applied with effect.\n\nA natural consequence is, that this means also in general occurs\noftener in the last half of a campaign than at its commencement.\n\nHere, also, the general staff has an opportunity of displaying its\ntopographical knowledge in framing a system of combined measures,\nconnected with the choice and preparation of the positions and the\nroads leading to them.\n\nWhen the whole object of one party is to gain in the end a certain\npoint, and the whole object of his adversary, on the other hand, is to\nprevent his doing so, then both parties are often obliged to make their\nmovements under the eyes of each other; for this reason, these\nmovements must be made with a degree of precaution and precision not\notherwise required. Formerly, before the mass of an army was formed of\nindependent divisions, and even on the march was always regarded as an\nindivisible whole, this precaution and precision was attended with much\nmore formality, and with the copious use of tactical skill. On these\noccasions, certainly, single brigades were often obliged to leave the\ngeneral line of battle to secure particular points, and act an\nindependent part until the army arrived: but these were, and continued,\n_anomalous proceedings;_ and the aim in the order of march generally\nwas to move the army from one point to another as a whole, preserving\nits normal formation, and avoiding such exceptional proceedings as the\nabove as far as possible. Now that the parts of the main body of an\narmy are subdivided again into independent bodies, and those bodies can\nventure to enter into an engagement with the mass of the enemy\u2019s army,\nprovided the rest of the force of which it is a member is sufficiently\nnear to carry it on and finish it,\u2014now such a flank march is attended\nwith less difficulty even under the eye of the enemy. What formerly\ncould only be effected through the actual mechanism of the order of\nmarch, can now be done by starting single divisions at an earlier hour,\nby hastening the march of others, and by the greater freedom in the\nemployment of the whole.\n\nBy the means of defence just considered, the assailant can be prevented\nfrom taking any fortress, from occupying any important extent of\ncountry, or capturing magazines; and he will be prevented, if in every\ndirection combats are offered to him in which he can see little\nprobability of success, or too great danger of a reaction in case of\nfailure, or in general, an expenditure of force too great for his\nobject and existing relations.\n\nIf now the defender succeeds in this triumph of his art and skill, and\nthe assailant, wherever he turns his eyes, sees prudent preparations\nthrough which he is cut off from any prospect of attaining his modest\nwishes: then the offensive principle often seeks to escape from the\ndifficulty in the satisfaction of the mere honour of its arms. The gain\nof some combat of respectable importance, gives the arms of the victor\na semblance of superiority, appeases the vanity of the general, of the\ncourt, of the army, and the people, and thus satisfies, to a certain\nextent, the expectations which are naturally always raised when the\noffensive is assumed.\n\nAn advantageous combat of some importance merely for the sake of the\nvictory and some trophies, becomes, therefore, the last hope of the\nassailant. No one must suppose that we here involve ourselves in a\ncontradiction, for we contend that we still continue within our _own\nsupposition_, that the good measures of the defender have deprived the\nassailant of all expectation of attaining any one of those other\nobjects by means of a _successful combat!_ To warrant that expectation,\ntwo conditions are required, that is, a _favourable termination to the\ncombat_, and next, _that the result shall lead really to the attainment\nof one of those objects_.\n\nThe first may very well take place without the second, and therefore\nthe defenders\u2019 corps and posts singly are much more frequently in\ndanger of getting involved in disadvantageous combats if the assailant\nmerely aims at the _honour of the battle field_, than if he connects\nwith that a view to further advantages as well.\n\nIf we place ourselves in Daun\u2019s situation, and with his way of\nthinking, then his venturing on the surprise of Hochkirch does not\nappear inconsistent with his character, as long as we suppose him\naiming at nothing more than the trophies of the day. But a victory rich\nin results, which would have compelled the king to abandon Dresden and\nNeisse, appears an entirely different problem, one with which he would\nnot have been inclined to meddle.\n\nLet it not be imagined that these are trifling or idle distinctions; we\nhave, on the contrary, now before us one of the deepest-rooted, leading\nprinciples of war. The signification of a combat is its very soul in\nstrategy, and we cannot too often repeat, that in strategy the leading\nevents always proceed from the ultimate views of the two parties, as it\nwere, from a conclusion of the whole train of ideas. This is why there\nmay be such a difference strategically between one battle and another,\nthat they can hardly be looked upon as the same means.\n\nNow, although the fruitless victory of the assailant can hardly be\nconsidered any serious injury to the defence, still as the defender\nwill not willingly concede even _this_ advantage, particularly as we\nnever know what accident may also be connected with it, therefore the\ndefender requires to keep an incessant watch upon the situation of all\nhis corps and posts. No doubt here all greatly depends on the leaders\nof those corps making suitable dispositions; but any one of them may be\nled into an unavoidable catastrophe by injudicious orders imposed on\nhim by the general-in-chief. Who is not reminded here of Fouqu\u00e9\u2019s corps\nat Landshut and of Fink\u2019s at Maxen?\n\nIn both cases Frederick the Great reckoned too much on customary ideas.\nIt was impossible that he could suppose 10,000 men capable of\nsuccessfully resisting 30,000 in the position of Landshut, or that Fink\ncould resist a superior force pouring in and overwhelming him on all\nsides; but he thought the strength of the position of Landshut would be\naccepted, like a bill of exchange, as heretofore, and that Daun would\nsee in the demonstration against his flank sufficient reason to\nexchange his uncomfortable position in Saxony for the more comfortable\none in Bohemia. He misjudged Laudon in one case and Daun in the other,\nand therein lies the error in these measures.\n\nBut irrespective of such errors, into which even generals may fall who\nare not so proud, daring, and obstinate as Frederick the Great in some\nof his proceedings may certainly be termed, there is always, in respect\nto the subject we are now considering, a great difficulty in this way,\nthat the general-in-chief cannot always expect all he desires from the\nsagacity, good-will, courage and firmness of character of his\ncorps-commanders. He cannot, therefore, leave everything to their good\njudgment; he must prescribe rules on many points by which their course\nof action, being restricted, may easily become inconsistent with the\ncircumstances of the moment. This is, however, an unavoidable\ninconvenience. Without an imperious commanding will, the influence of\nwhich penetrates through the whole army, war cannot be well conducted;\nand whoever would follow the practice of always expecting the best from\nhis subordinates, would from that very reason be quite unfit for a good\nCommander of an army.\n\nTherefore the situation of every corps and post must be for ever kept\nclearly in view, to prevent any of them being unexpectedly drawn into a\ncatastrophe.\n\nThe aim of all these efforts is to preserve the _status quo_. The more\nfortunate and successful these efforts are, the longer will the war\nlast at the same point; but the longer war continues at one point, the\ngreater become the cares for subsistence.\n\nIn place of collections and contributions from the country, a system of\nsubsistence from magazines commences at once, or in a very short time;\nin place of country waggons being collected upon each occasion, the\nformation, more or less, of a regular transport takes place, composed\neither of carriages of the country, or of those belonging to the army;\nin short, there arises an approach to that regular system of feeding\ntroops from magazines, of which we have already treated in the\nfourteenth chapter (On Subsistence).\n\nAt the same time, it is not this which exercises a great influence on\nthis mode of conducting war, for as this mode, by its object and\ncharacter, is in fact already tied down to a limited space, therefore\nthe question of subsistence may very well have a part in determining\nits action\u2014and will do so in most cases\u2014without altering the general\ncharacter of the war. On the other hand, the action of the belligerents\nmutually against the lines of communications gains a much greater\nimportance for two reasons. Firstly, because in such campaigns, there\nbeing no measures of a great and comprehensive kind, generals must\napply their energies to those of an inferior order; and secondly,\nbecause here there is time enough to wait for the effect of this means.\nThe security of his line of communications is therefore specially\nimportant to the defender, for although it is true that its\ninterruption cannot be an object of the hostile operations which take\nplace, yet it might compel him to retreat, and thus to leave other\nobjects open to attack.\n\nAll the measures having for their object the protection of the area of\nthe theatre of war itself, must naturally also have the effect of\ncovering the lines of communication; their security is therefore in\npart provided for in that way, and we have only to observe that it is a\nprincipal condition in fixing upon a position.\n\nA _special_ means of security consists in the bodies of troops, both\nsmall and large, escorting convoys. First, the most extended positions\nare not sufficient to secure the lines of communication, and next, such\nan escort is particularly necessary when the general wishes to avoid a\nvery extended position. Therefore, we find, in Tempelhof\u2019s History of\nthe Seven Years\u2019 War, instances without end in which Frederick the\nGreat caused his bread and flour waggons to be escorted by single\nregiments of infantry or cavalry, sometimes also by whole brigades. On\nthe Austrian side we nowhere find mention of the same thing, which\ncertainly may be partly accounted for in this way, that they had no\nsuch circumstantial historian on their side, but in part it is also to\nbe ascribed just to this, that they always took up much more extended\npositions.\n\nHaving now touched upon the four efforts which form the foundation of a\ndefensive _that does not aim at a decision_, and which are at the same\ntime, altogether free upon the whole from all offensive elements, we\nmust now say something of the offensive means with which they may\nbecome more or less mixed up, in a certain measure flavoured. These\noffensive means are chiefly:\u2014\n\n1. Operating against the enemy\u2019s communications, under which we\nlikewise include enterprises against his places of supply.\n\n2. Diversions and incursions within the enemy\u2019s territory.\n\n3. Attacks on the enemy\u2019s corps and posts, and even upon his main body,\nunder favourable circumstances, or the threat only of such intention.\n\nThe first of these means is incessantly in action in all campaigns of\nthis kind, but in a certain measure quite quietly without actually\nmaking its appearance. Every suitable position for the defender derives\na great part of its efficacy from the disquietude which it causes the\nassailant in connection with his communications; and as the question of\nsubsistence in such warfare becomes, as we have already observed, one\nof vital importance, affecting the assailant equally, therefore,\nthrough this apprehension of offensive action, possibly resulting from\nthe enemy\u2019s position, a great part of the strategic web is determined,\nas we shall again find in treating of the attack.\n\nNot only this general influence, proceeding from the choice of\npositions, which, like pressure in mechanics, produces an effect\n_invisibly_, but also an actual offensive movement with part of the\narmy against the enemy\u2019s lines of communication, comes within the\ncompass of such a defensive. But that it may be done with effect, _the\nsituation of the lines of communication, the nature of the country, and\nthe peculiar qualities of the troops_ must be specially propitious to\nthe undertaking.\n\nIncursions into the enemy\u2019s country which have as their object\nreprisals or levying contributions, cannot properly be regarded as\ndefensive means, they are rather true offensive means; but they are\nusually combined with the object of a real diversion, which may be\nregarded as a real defensive measure, as it is intended to weaken the\nenemy\u2019s force opposed to us. But as the above means may be used just as\nwell by the assailant, and in itself is a real attack, we therefore\nthink more suitable to leave its further examination for the next book.\nAccordingly we shall only count it in here, in order to render a full\naccount of the arsenal of small offensive arms belonging to the\ndefender of a theatre of war, and for the present merely add that in\nextent and importance it may attain to such a point, as to give the\nwhole war the _appearance_, and along with that the honour, of the\noffensive. Of this nature are Frederick the Great\u2019s enterprises in\nPoland, Bohemia and Franconia, before the campaign of 1759. His\ncampaign itself is plainly a pure defence; these incursions into the\nenemy\u2019s territory, however, gave it the appearance of an aggression,\nwhich perhaps had a special value on account of the moral effect.\n\nAn attack on one of the enemy\u2019s corps or on his main body must always\nbe kept in view as a necessary complement of the whole defence whenever\nthe aggressor takes the matter too easily, and on that account shows\nhimself very defenceless at particular points. Under this silent\ncondition the whole action takes place. But here also the defender, in\nthe same way as in operating against the communications of the enemy,\nmay go a step further in the province of the offensive, and just as\nwell as his adversary may make it his business to lie in wait _for a\nfavourable stroke_. In order to ensure a result in this field, he must\neither be very decidedly superior in force to his opponent\u2014which\ncertainly is inconsistent with the defensive in general, but still may\nhappen\u2014or he must have a method and the talent of keeping his forces\nmore concentrated, and make up by activity and mobility for the danger\nwhich he incurs in other respects.\n\nThe first was Daun\u2019s case in the Seven Years\u2019 War; the latter, the case\nof Frederick the Great. Still we hardly ever see Daun\u2019s offensive make\nits appearance except when Frederick the Great invited it by excessive\nboldness and a display of contempt for him (Hochkirch, Maxen,\nLandshut). On the other hand, we see Frederick the Great almost\nconstantly on the move in order to beat one or other of Daun\u2019s corps\nwith his main body. He certainly seldom succeeded, at least, the\nresults were never great, because Daun, in addition to his great\nsuperiority in numbers, had also a rare degree of prudence and caution;\nbut we must not suppose that, therefore, the king\u2019s attempts were\naltogether fruitless. In these attempts lay rather a very effectual\nresistance; for the care and fatigue, which his adversary had to\nundergo in order to avoid fighting at a disadvantage, neutralised those\nforces which would otherwise have aided in advancing the offensive\naction. Let us only call to mind the campaign of 1760, in Silesia,\nwhere Daun and the Russians, out of sheer apprehension of being\nattacked and beaten by the king, first here and then there, never could\nsucceed in making one step in advance.\n\nWe believe we have now gone through all the subjects which form the\npredominant ideas, the principal aims, and therefore the main stay, of\nthe whole action in the defence of a theatre of war when no idea of\ndecision is entertained. Our chief, and, indeed, sole object in\nbringing them all close together, was to let the organism of the whole\nstrategic action be seen in one view; the particular measures by means\nof which those subjects come to life, marches, positions, etc., etc.,\nwe have already considered in detail.\n\nBy now casting a glance once more at the whole of our subject, the idea\nmust strike us forcibly, that with such a weak offensive principle,\nwith so little desire for a decision on either side, with so little\npositive motive, with so many counteracting influences of a subjective\nnature, which stop us and hold us back, the essential difference\nbetween attack and defence must always tend more to disappear. At the\nopening of a campaign, certainly one party will enter the other\u2019s\ntheatre of war, and in that manner, to a certain extent, such party\nputs on the form of offensive. But it may very well take place, and\nhappens frequently that he must soon enough apply all his powers to\ndefend his own country on the enemy\u2019s territory. Then both stand, in\nreality, opposite one another in a state of mutual observation. Both\nintent on losing nothing, perhaps both alike intent also on obtaining a\npositive advantage. Indeed it may happen, as with Frederick the Great,\nthat the real defender aims higher in that way than his adversary.\n\nNow the more the assailant gives up the position of an enemy making\nprogress, the less the defender is menaced by him, and confined to a\nstrictly defensive attitude by the pressing claims of a regard for mere\nsafety, so much the more a similarity in the relations of the parties\nis produced in which then the activity of both will be directed towards\ngaining an advantage over his opponent, and protecting himself against\nany disadvantage, therefore to a true strategic _man\u0153uvring;_ and\nindeed this is the character into which all campaigns resolve\nthemselves more or less, when the situation of the combatants or\npolitical views do not allow of any great decision.\n\nIn the following book we have allotted a chapter specially to the\nsubject of strategic man\u0153uvres; but as this equipoised play of forces\nhas frequently been invested in theory with an importance to which it\nis not entitled, we find ourselves under the necessity of examining the\nsubject more closely while we are treating of the defence, as it is in\nthat form of warfare more particularly that this false importance is\nascribed to strategic man\u0153uvres.\n\nWe call it an _equipoised play of forces_, for when there is no\nmovement of the whole body there is a state of equilibrium; where no\ngreat object impels, there is no movement of the whole; therefore, in\nsuch a case, the two parties, however unequal they may be, are still to\nbe regarded as in a state of equilibrium. From this state of\nequilibrium of the whole now come forth the particular motives to\nactions of a minor class and secondary objects. They can here develop\nthemselves, because they are no longer kept down by the pressure of a\ngreat decision and great danger. Therefore, what can be lost or won\nupon the whole is changed into small counters, and the action of the\nwar, as a whole, is broken up into smaller transactions. With these\nsmaller operations for smaller gains, a contest of skill now takes\nplace between the two generals; but as it is impossible in war to shut\nout chance, and consequently good luck, therefore this contest will\nnever be otherwise than a _game_. In the meantime, here arise two other\nquestions, that is, whether in this man\u0153uvring, chance will not have a\nsmaller, and superior intelligence a greater, share in the decision,\nthan where all concentrates itself into one single great act. The last\nof these questions we must answer in the affirmative. The more complete\nthe organisation of the whole, the oftener time and space come into\nconsideration\u2014the former by single moments, the latter at particular\npoints\u2014so much the greater, plainly, will be the field for calculation,\ntherefore the greater the sway exercised by superior intelligence. What\nthe superior understanding gains is abstracted in part from chance, but\nnot necessarily altogether, and therefore we are not obliged to answer\nthe first question affirmatively. Moreover, we must not forget that a\nsuperior understanding is not the only mental quality of a general;\ncourage, energy, resolution, presence of mind, etc., are qualities\nwhich rise again to a higher value when all depends on one single great\ndecision; they will, therefore, have somewhat less weight when there is\nan equipoised play of forces, and the predominating ascendancy of\nsagacious calculation increases not only at the expense of chance, but\nalso at the expense of these qualities. On the other hand, these\nbrilliant qualities, at the moment of a great decision, may rob chance\nof a great part of its power, and therefore, to a certain extent,\nsecure that which calculating intelligence in such cases would be\nobliged to leave to chance. We see by this that here a conflict takes\nplace between several forces, and that we cannot positively assert that\nthere is a greater field left open to chance in the case of a great\ndecision, than in the total result when that equipoised play of forces\ntakes place. If we, therefore, see more particularly in this play of\nforces a contest of mutual skill, that must only be taken to refer to\nskill in sagacious calculation, and not to the sum total of military\ngenius.\n\nNow it is just from this aspect of strategic man\u0153uvring that the whole\nhas obtained that false importance of which we have spoken above. In\nthe first place, in this skilfulness the whole genius of a general has\nbeen supposed to consist; but this is a great mistake, for it is, as\nalready said, not to be denied that in moments of great decisions other\nmoral qualities of a general may have power to control the force of\nevents. If this power proceeds more from the impulse of noble feelings\nand those sparks of genius which start up almost unconsciously, and\ntherefore does not proceed from long chains of thought, still it is not\nthe less a free citizen of the art of war, for that art is neither a\nmere act of the understanding, nor are the activities of the\nintellectual faculties its principal ones. Further, it has been\nsupposed that every active campaign without results must be owing to\nthat sort of skill on the part of one, or even of both generals, while\nin reality it has always had its general and principal foundation just\nin the general relations which have turned war into such a game.\n\nAs most wars between civilised states have had for their object rather\nthe observation of the enemy than his destruction, therefore it was\nonly natural that the greater number of the campaigns should bear the\ncharacter of strategic man\u0153uvring. Those amongst them which did not\nbring into notice any renowned generals, attracted no attention; but\nwhere there was a great commander on whom all eyes were fixed, or two\nopposed to each other, like Turenne and Montecuculi, there the seal of\nperfection has been stamped upon this whole art of man\u0153uvring through\nthe names of these generals. A further consequence has then been that\nthis game has been looked upon as the summit of the art, as the\nmanifestation of its highest perfection, and consequently also as the\nsource at which the art of war must chiefly be studied.\n\nThis view prevailed almost universally in the theoretical world before\nthe wars of the French Revolution. But when these wars at one stroke\nopened to view a quite different world of phenomena in war, at first\nsomewhat rough and wild, but which afterwards, under Buonaparte\nsystematised into a method on a grand scale, produced results which\ncreated astonishment amongst old and young, then people set themselves\nfree from the old models, and believed that all the changes they saw\nresulted from modern discoveries, magnificent ideas, etc.; but also at\nthe same time, certainly from the changes in the state of society. It\nwas now thought that what was old would never more be required, and\nwould never even reappear. But as in such revolutions in opinions two\nparties are always formed, so it was also in this instance, and the old\nviews found their champions, who looked upon the new phenomena as rude\nblows of brute force, as a general decadence of the art; and held the\nopinion that, in the evenly-balanced, nugatory, fruitless war game, the\nperfection of the art is realised. There lies at the bottom of this\nlast view such a want of logic and philosophy, that it can only be\ntermed a hopeless, distressing confusion of ideas. But at the same time\nthe opposite opinion, that nothing like the past will ever reappear, is\nvery irrational. Of the novel appearances manifested in the domain of\nthe art of war, very few indeed are to be ascribed to new discoveries,\nor to a change in the direction of ideas; they are chiefly attributable\nto the alterations in the social state and its relations. But as these\ntook place just at the crisis of a state of fermentation, they must not\nbe taken as a norm; and we cannot, therefore, doubt that a great part\nof the former manifestations of war, will again make their appearance.\nThis is not the place to enter further into these matters; it is enough\nfor us that by directing attention to the relation which this\neven-balanced play of forces occupies in the whole conduct of a war,\nand to its signification and connection with other objects, we have\nshown that it is always produced by constraint laid on both parties\nengaged in the contest, and by a military element greatly attenuated.\nIn this game one general may show himself more skilful than his\nopponent; and therefore, if the strength of his army is equal, he may\nalso gain many advantages over him; or if his force is inferior, he\nmay, by his superior talent, keep the contest evenly balanced; but it\nis completely contradictory to the nature of the thing to look here for\nthe highest honour and glory of a general; such a campaign is always\nrather a certain sign that neither of the generals has any great\nmilitary talent, or that he who has talent is prevented by the force of\ncircumstances from venturing on a great decision; but when this is the\ncase, there is no scope afforded for the display of the highest\nmilitary genius.\n\nWe have hitherto been engaged with the general character of strategic\nman\u0153uvring; we must now proceed to a special influence which it has on\nthe conduct of war, namely this, that it frequently leads the\ncombatants away from the principal roads and places into unfrequented,\nor at least unimportant localities. When trifling interests, which\nexist for a moment and then disappear, are paramount, the great\nfeatures of a country have less influence on the conduct of the war. We\ntherefore often find that bodies of troops move to points where we\nshould never look for them, judging only by the great and simple\nrequirements of the war; and that consequently, also, the changefulness\nand diversity in the details of the contest as it progresses, are much\ngreater here than in wars directed to a great decision. Let us only\nlook how in the last five campaigns of the Seven Years\u2019 War, in spite\nof the relations in general remaining unchanged in themselves, each of\nthese campaigns took a different form, and, closely examined, no single\nmeasure ever appears twice; and yet in these campaigns the offensive\nprinciple manifests itself on the side of the allied army much more\ndecidedly than in most other earlier wars.\n\nIn this chapter on the defence of a theatre of war, if no great\ndecision is proposed, we have only shown the tendencies of the action,\ntogether with its combination, and the relations and character of the\nsame; the particular measures of which it is composed have been\ndescribed in detail in a former part of our work. Now the question\narises whether for these different tendencies of action no thoroughly\ngeneral comprehensive principles, rules, or methods can be given. To\nthis we reply that, as far as history is concerned, we have decidedly\nnot been led to any deductions of that kind through constantly\nrecurring forms; and at the same time, for a subject so diversified and\nchangeful in its general nature, we could hardly admit any theoretical\nrule, except one founded on experience. A war directed to great\ndecisions is not only much simpler, but also much more in accordance\nwith nature; is more free from inconsistencies, more objective, more\nrestricted by a law of inherent necessity; hence the mind can prescribe\nforms and laws for it; but for a war without a decision for its object,\nthis appears to us to be much more difficult. Even the two fundamental\nprinciples of the earliest theories of strategy published in our times,\nthe _Breadth of the Base_, in Bulow, and the _Position on Interior\nLines_, in Jomini, if applied to the defence of a theatre of war, have\nin no instance shown themselves absolute and effective. But being mere\nforms, this is just where they should show themselves most efficacious,\nbecause forms are always more efficacious, always acquire a\npreponderance over other factors of the product, the more the action\nextends over time and space. Notwithstanding this, we find that they\nare nothing more than particular parts of the subject, and certainly\nanything but decisive advantages. It is very clear that the peculiar\nnature of the means and the relations must always from the first have a\ngreat influence adverse to all general principles. What Daun did by the\nextent and provident choice of positions, the king did by keeping his\narmy always concentrated, always hugging the enemy close, and by being\nalways ready to act extemporally with his whole army. The method of\neach general proceeded not only from the nature of the army he\ncommanded, but also from the circumstances in which he was placed. To\nextemporise movements is always much easier for a king than for any\ncommander who acts under responsibility. We shall here once more point\nout particularly that the critic has no right to look upon the\ndifferent manners and methods which may make their appearance as\ndifferent degrees on the road to perfection, the one inferior to the\nother; they are entitled to be treated as on an equality, and it must\nrest with the judgment to estimate their relative fitness for use in\neach particular case.\n\nTo enumerate these different manners which may spring from the\nparticular nature of an army, of a country, or of circumstances, is not\nour object here; the influence of these things generally we have\nalready noticed.\n\nWe acknowledge, therefore, that in this chapter we are unable to give\nany maxims, rules, or methods, because history does not furnish the\nmeans; and on the contrary, at almost every moment, we there meet with\npeculiarities such as are often quite inexplicable, and often also\nsurprise us by their singularity. But it is not on that account\nunprofitable to study history in connection with this subject also.\nWhere neither system nor any dogmatic apparatus can be found, there may\nstill be truth, and this truth will then, in most cases, only be\ndiscovered by a practised judgment and the tact of long experience.\nTherefore, even if history does not here furnish any formula, we may be\ncertain that here as well as everywhere else, it will give us _exercise\nfor the judgment_.\n\nWe shall only set up one comprehensive general principle, or rather we\nshall reproduce, and present to view more vividly, in the form of a\nseparate principle, the natural presupposition of all that has now been\nsaid.\n\nAll the means which have been here set forth have only a _relative_\nvalue; they are all placed under the legal ban of a certain disability\non both sides; above this region a higher law prevails, and there is a\ntotally different world of phenomena. The general must never forget\nthis; he must never move in imaginary security within the narrower\nsphere, as if he were in an _absolute_ medium; never look upon the\nmeans which he employs here as the _necessary_ or as the _only means,\nand still adhere to them, even when he himself already trembles at\ntheir insufficiency_.\n\nFrom the point of view at which we have here placed ourselves, such an\nerror may appear to be almost impossible; but it is not impossible in\nthe real world, because there things do not appear in such sharp\ncontrast.\n\nWe must just again remind our readers that, for the sake of giving\nclearness, distinctness, and force to our ideas, we have always taken\nas the subject of our consideration only the complete antithesis, that\nis the two extremes of the question, but that the concrete case in war\ngenerally lies between these two extremes, and is only influenced by\neither of these extremes according to the degree in which it approaches\nnearer towards it.\n\nTherefore, quite commonly, everything depends on the general making up\nhis own mind before all things as to whether his adversary has the\ninclination and the means of outbidding him by the use of greater and\nmore decisive measures. As soon as he has reason to apprehend this, he\nmust give up small measures intended to ward off small disadvantages;\nand the course which remains for him then is to put himself in a better\nsituation, by a voluntary sacrifice, in order to make himself equal to\na greater solution. In other words, the first requisite is that the\ngeneral should take the right scale in laying out his work.\n\nIn order to give these ideas still more distinctness through the help\nof real experience, we shall briefly notice a string of cases in which,\naccording to our opinion, a false criterion was made use of, that is,\nin which one of the generals in the calculation of his operations very\nmuch underestimated the decisive action intended by his adversary. We\nbegin with the opening of the campaign of 1757, in which the Austrians\nshowed by the disposition of their forces that they had not counted\nupon so thorough an offensive as that adopted by Frederick the Great;\neven the delay of Piccolomini\u2019s corps on the Silesian frontier while\nDuke Charles of Lorraine was in danger of having to surrender with his\nwhole army, is a similar case of complete misconception of the\nsituation.\n\nIn 1758, the French were in the first place completely taken in as to\nthe effects of the convention of Kloster Seeven (a fact, certainly,\nwith which we have nothing to do here), and two months afterwards they\nwere completely mistaken in their judgment of what their opponent might\nundertake, which, very shortly after, cost them the country between the\nWeser and the Rhine. That Frederick the Great, in 1759, at Maxen, and\nin 1760, at Landshut, completely misjudged his enemies in not supposing\nthem capable of such decisive measures has been already mentioned.\n\nBut in all history we can hardly find a greater error in the criterion\nthan that in 1792. It was then imagined possible to turn the tide in a\nnational war by a moderate sized auxiliary army, which brought down on\nthose who attempted it the enormous weight of the whole French people,\nat that time completely unhinged by political fanaticism. We only call\nthis error a great one because it has proved so since, and not because\nit would have been easy to avoid it. As far as regards the conduct of\nthe war itself, it cannot be denied that the foundation of all the\ndisastrous years which followed was laid in the campaign of 1794. On\nthe side of the allies in that campaign, even the powerful nature of\nthe enemy\u2019s system of attack was quite misunderstood, by opposing to it\na pitiful system of extended positions and strategic man\u0153uvres; and\nfurther in the want of unanimity between Prussia and Austria\npolitically, and the foolish abandonment of Belgium and the\nNetherlands, we may also see how little presentiment the cabinets of\nthat day had of the force of the torrent which had just broken loose.\nIn the year 1796, the partial acts of resistance offered at Montenotte,\nLodi, etc., etc., show sufficiently how little the Austrians understood\nthe main point when confronted by a Buonaparte.\n\nIn the year 1800 it was not by the direct effect of the surprise, but\nby the false view which Melas took of the possible consequences of this\nsurprise, that his catastrophe was brought about.\n\nUlm, in the year 1805, was the last knot of a loose network of\nscientific but extremely feeble strategic combinations, good enough to\nstop a Daun or a Lascy but not a Buonaparte, the Revolution\u2019s Emperor.\n\nThe indecision and embarrassment of the Prussians in 1806, proceeded\nfrom antiquated, pitiful, impracticable views and measures being mixed\nup with some lucid ideas and a true feeling of the immense importance\nof the moment. If there had been a distinct consciousness and a\ncomplete appreciation of the position of the country, how could they\nhave left 30,000 men in Prussia, and then entertained the idea of\nforming a special theatre of war in Westphalia, and of gaining any\nresults from a trivial offensive such as that for which Ruchel\u2019s and\nthe Weimar corps were intended? and how could they have talked of\ndanger to magazines and loss of this or that strip of territory in the\nlast moments left for deliberation?\n\nEven in 1812, in that grandest of all campaigns, there was no want at\nfirst of unsound purposes proceeding from the use of an erroneous\nstandard Scale. In the head quarters at Wilna there was a party of men\nof high mark who insisted on a battle on the frontier, in order that no\nhostile foot should tread on Russian ground with impunity. That this\nbattle on the frontier _might_ be lost, nay, that it _would_ be lost,\nthese men certainly admitted; for although they did not know that there\nwould be 300,000 French to meet 80,000 Russians, still they knew that\nthe enemy was considerably superior in numbers. The chief error was in\nthe value which they ascribed to this battle; they thought it would be\na lost battle, like many other lost battles, whereas it may with\ncertainty be asserted that this great battle on the frontier would have\nproduced a succession of events completely different to those which\nactually took place. Even the camp at Drissa was a measure at the root\nof which there lay a completely erroneous standard with regard to the\nenemy. If the Russian army had been obliged to remain there they would\nhave been completely isolated and cut off from every quarter, and then\nthe French army would not have been at a loss for means to compel the\nRussians to lay down their arms. The designer of that camp never\nthought of power and will on such a scale as that.\n\nBut even Buonaparte sometimes used a false standard. After the\narmistice of 1813 he thought to hold in check the subordinate armies of\nthe allies under Bl\u00fccher and the Crown Prince of Sweden by corps which\nwere certainly not able to offer any effectual resistance, but which\nmight impose sufficiently on the cautious to prevent their risking\nanything, as had so often been done in preceding wars. He did not\nreflect sufficiently on the reaction proceeding from the deep-rooted\nresentment with which both Bl\u00fccher and Bulow were animated, and from\nthe imminent danger in which they were placed.\n\nIn general, he under-estimated the enterprising spirit of old Bl\u00fccher.\nAt Leipsic Bl\u00fccher alone wrested from him the victory; at Laon Bl\u00fccher\nmight have entirely ruined him, and if he did not do so the cause lay\nin circumstances completely out of the calculation of Buonaparte;\nlastly, at Belle-Alliance, the penalty of this mistake reached him like\na thunderbolt.\n\n\n\nSKETCHES FOR BOOK VII THE ATTACK\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. The Attack in Relation to the Defence\n\nIf two ideas form an exact logical antithesis, that is to say if the\none is the complement of the other, then, in fact, each one is implied\nin the other; and when the limited power of our mind is insufficient to\napprehend both at once, and, by the mere antithesis, to recognise in\nthe one perfect conception the totality of the other also, still, at\nall events, the one always throws on the other a strong, and in many\nparts a sufficient light Thus we think the first chapter on the defence\nthrows a sufficient light on all the points of the attack which it\ntouches upon. But it is not so throughout in respect of every point;\nthe train of thought could nowhere be carried to a finality; it is,\ntherefore, natural that where the opposition of ideas does not lie so\nimmediately at the root of the conception as in the first chapters, all\nthat can be said about the attack does not follow directly from what\nhas been said on the defence. An alteration of our point of view brings\nus nearer to the subject, and it is natural for us to observe, at this\ncloser point of view, that which escaped observation at our former\nstandpoint. What is thus perceived will, therefore, be the complement\nof our former train of thought; and it will not unfrequently happen\nthat what is said on the attack will throw a new light on the defence.\n\nIn treating of the attack we shall, of course, very frequently have the\nsame subjects before us with which our attention has been occupied in\nthe defence. But we have no intention, nor would it be consistent with\nthe nature of the thing, to adopt the usual plan of works on\nengineering, and in treating of the attack, to circumvent or upset all\nthat we have found of positive value in the defence, by showing that\nagainst every means of defence, there is an infallible method of\nattack. The defence has its strong points and weak ones; if the first\nare even not unsurmountable, still they can only be overcome at a\ndisproportionate price, and that must remain true from whatever point\nof view we look at it, or we get involved in a contradiction. Further,\nit is not our intention thoroughly to review the reciprocal action of\nthe means; each means of defence suggests a means of attack; but this\nis often so evident, that there is no occasion to transfer oneself from\nour standpoint in treating of the defence to a fresh one for the\nattack, in order to perceive it; the one issues from the other of\nitself. Our object is, in each subject, to set forth the peculiar\nrelations of the attack, so far as they do not directly come out of the\ndefence, and this mode of treatment must necessarily lead us to many\nchapters to which there are no corresponding ones in the defence.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Nature of the Strategical Attack\n\nWe have seen that the defensive in war generally\u2014therefore, also, the\nstrategic defensive\u2014is no absolute state of expectancy and warding off,\ntherefore no completely passive state, but that it is a relative state,\nand consequently impregnated more or less with offensive principles. In\nthe same way the offensive is no homogeneous whole, but incessantly\nmixed up with the defensive. But there is this difference between the\ntwo, that a defensive, without an offensive return blow, cannot be\nconceived; that this return blow is a necessary constituent part of the\ndefensive, whilst in the attack, the blow or act is in itself one\ncomplete idea. The defence in itself is not necessarily a part of the\nattack; but time and space, to which it is inseparably bound, import\ninto it the defensive as a necessary evil. For in the _first_ place,\nthe attack cannot be continued uninterruptedly up to its conclusion, it\nmust have stages of rest, and in these stages, when its action is\nneutralised, the state of defence steps in of itself; in the _second_\nplace, the space which a military force, in its advance, leaves behind\nit, and which is essential to its existence, cannot always be covered\nby the attack itself, but must be specially protected.\n\nThe act of attack in war, but particularly in that branch which is\ncalled strategy, is therefore a perpetual alternating and combining of\nattack and defence; but the latter is not to be regarded as an\neffectual preparation for attack, as a means by which its force is\nheightened, that is to say, not as an active principle, but purely as a\nnecessary evil; as the retarding weight arising from the specific\ngravity of the mass; it is its original sin, its seed of mortality. We\nsay: a _retarding_ weight, because if the defence does not contribute\nto strengthen the attack, it must tend to diminish its effect by the\nvery loss of time which it represents. But now, may not this defensive\nelement, which is contained in every attack, have over it a _positively\ndisadvantageous_ influence? If we suppose the _attack is the weaker,\nthe defence the stronger form of war_, it seems to follow that the\nlatter can not act in a positive sense prejudicially on the former; for\nas long as we have sufficient force for the weaker form, we should have\nmore than enough for the stronger. In general\u2014that is, as regards the\nchief part\u2014this is true: in its detail we shall analyse it more\nprecisely in the chapter on the _culminating point of victory;_ but we\nmust not forget that that superiority of the _strategic defence_ is\npartly founded in this, that the attack itself cannot take place\nwithout a mixture of defence, and of a defensive of a very weak kind;\nwhat the assailant has to carry about with him of this kind are its\nworst elements; with respect to these, that which holds good of the\nwhole, in a general sense, cannot be maintained; and therefore it is\nconceivable that the defensive may act upon the attack positively as a\nweakening principle. It is just in these moments of weak defensive in\nthe attack, that the positive action of the offensive principle in the\n_defensive_ should be introduced. During the twelve hours rest which\nusually succeeds a day\u2019s work, what a difference there is between the\nsituation of the defender in his chosen, well-known, and prepared\nposition, and that of the assailant occupying a bivouac, into\nwhich\u2014like a blind man\u2014he has groped his way, or during a longer period\nof rest, required to obtain provisions and to await reinforcements,\netc., when the defender is close to his fortresses and supplies, whilst\nthe situation of the assailant, on the other hand, is like that of a\nbird on a tree. Every attack must lead to a defence; what is to be the\nresult of that defence, depends on circumstances; these circumstances\nmay be very favourable if the enemy\u2019s forces are destroyed; but they\nmay be very unfavourable if such is not the case. Although this\ndefensive does not belong to the attack itself, its nature and effects\nmust re-act on the attack, and must take part in determining its value.\n\nThe deduction from this view is, that in every attack the defensive,\nwhich is necessarily an inherent feature in the same, must come into\nconsideration, in order to see clearly the disadvantages to which it is\nsubject, and to be prepared for them.\n\nOn the other hand, in another respect, the attack is always in itself\none and the same. But the defensive has its gradations according as the\nprinciple of expectancy approaches to an end. This begets forms which\ndiffer essentially from each other, as has been developed in the\nchapter on the forms of defence.\n\nAs the principle of the attack is _strictly_ active, and the defensive,\nwhich connects itself with it, is only a dead weight; there is,\ntherefore, not the same kind of difference in it. No doubt, in the\nenergy employed in the attack, in the rapidity and force of the blow,\nthere may be a great difference, but only a difference in _degree_, not\nin _form_.\u2014It is quite possible to conceive even that the assailant may\nchoose a defensive form, the better to attain his object; for instance,\nthat he may choose a strong position, that he may be attacked there;\nbut such instances are so rare that we do not think it necessary to\ndwell upon them in our grouping of ideas and facts, which are always\nfounded on the practical. We may, therefore, say that there are no such\ngradations in the attack as those which present themselves in the\ndefence.\n\nLastly, as a rule, the extent of the means of attack consists of the\narmed force only; of course, we must add to these the fortresses, for\nif in the vicinity of the theatre of war, they have a decided influence\non the attack. But this influence gradually diminishes as the attack\nadvances; and it is conceivable that, in the attack, its own fortresses\nnever can play such an important part as in the defence, in which they\noften become objects of primary importance. The assistance of the\npeople may be supposed in co-operation with the attack, in those cases\nin which the inhabitants of the country are better disposed towards the\ninvader of the country than they are to their own army; finally, the\nassailant may also have allies, but then they are only the result of\nspecial or accidental relations, not an assistance proceeding from the\nnature of the aggressive. Although, therefore, in speaking of the\ndefence we have reckoned fortresses, popular insurrections, and allies\nas available means of resistance; we cannot do the same in the attack;\nthere they belong to the nature of the thing; here they only appear\nrarely, and for the most part accidentally.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. Of the Objects of Strategical Attack\n\nThe overthrow of the enemy is the aim in war; destruction of the\nhostile military forces, the means both in attack and defence. By the\ndestruction of the enemy\u2019s military force, the defensive is led on to\nthe offensive, the offensive is led by it to the conquest of territory.\nTerritory is, therefore, the object of the attack; but that need not be\na whole country, it may be confined to a part, a province, a strip of\ncountry, a fortress. All these things may have a substantial value from\ntheir political importance, in treating for peace, whether they are\nretained or exchanged.\n\nThe object of the strategic attack is, therefore, conceivable in an\ninfinite number of gradations, from the conquest of the whole country\ndown to that of some insignificant place. As soon as this object is\nattained, and the attack ceases, the defensive commences. We may,\ntherefore, represent to ourselves the strategic attack as a distinctly\nlimited unit. But it is not so if we consider the matter practically,\nthat is in accordance with actual phenomena. Practically the moments of\nthe attack, that is, its views and measures, often glide just as\nimperceptibly into the defence as the plans of the defence into the\noffensive. It is seldom, or at all events not always, that a general\nlays down positively for himself what he will conquer, he leaves that\ndependent on the course of events. His attack often leads him further\nthan he had intended; after rest more or less, he often gets renewed\nstrength, without our being obliged to make out of this two quite\ndifferent acts; at another time he is brought to a standstill sooner\nthan he expected, without, however, giving up his intentions, and\nchanging to a real defensive. We see, therefore, that if the successful\ndefence may change imperceptibly into the offensive; so on the other\nhand an attack may, in like manner, change into a defence. These\ngradations must be kept in view, in order to avoid making a wrong\napplication of what we have to say of the attack in general.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Decreasing Force of the Attack\n\nThis is one of the principal points in strategy: on its right valuation\nin the concrete, depends our being able to judge correctly what we are\nable to do.\n\nThe decrease of absolute power arises\u2014\n\n1. Through the object of the attack, the occupation of the enemy\u2019s\ncountry; this generally commences first after the first decision, but\nthe attack does not cease upon the first decision.\n\n2. Through the necessity imposed on the attacking army to guard the\ncountry in its rear, in order to preserve its line of communication and\nmeans of subsistence.\n\n3. Through losses in action and through sickness.\n\n4. Distance of the various dep\u00f4ts of supplies and reinforcements.\n\n5. Sieges and blockades of fortresses.\n\n6. Relaxation of efforts.\n\n7. Secession of allies.\n\nBut frequently, in opposition to these weakening causes, there may be\nmany others which contribute to strengthen the attack. It is clear, at\nall events, that a net result can only be obtained by comparing these\ndifferent quantities; thus, for example, the weakening of the attack\nmay be partly or completely compensated, or even surpassed by the\nweakening of the defensive. This last is a case which rarely happens;\nwe cannot always bring into the comparison any more forces than those\nin the immediate front or at decisive points, not the whole of the\nforces in the field.\u2014Different examples: The French in Austria and\nPrussia, in Russia; the allies in France, the French in Spain.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Culminating Point of the Attack\n\nThe success of the attack is the result of a present superiority of\nforce, it being understood that the moral as well as physical forces\nare included. In the preceding chapter we have shown that the power of\nthe attack gradually exhausts itself; possibly at the same time the\nsuperiority may increase, but in most cases it diminishes. The\nassailant buys up prospective advantages which are to be turned to\naccount hereafter in negotiations for peace; but, in the meantime, he\nhas to pay down on the spot for them a certain amount of his military\nforce. If a preponderance on the side of the attack, although thus\ndaily diminishing, is still maintained until peace is concluded, the\nobject is attained. There are strategic attacks which have led to an\nimmediate peace but such instances are rare; the majority, on the\ncontrary, lead only to a point at which the forces remaining are just\nsufficient to maintain a defensive, and to wait for peace. Beyond that\npoint the scale turns, there is a reaction; the violence of such a\nreaction is commonly much greater than the force of the blow. This we\ncall the culminating point of the attack. As the object of the attack\nis the possession of the enemy\u2019s territory, it follows that the advance\nmust continue till the superiority is exhausted; this cause, therefore,\nimpels us towards the ultimate object, and may easily lead us beyond\nit. If we reflect upon the number of the elements of which an equation\nof the forces in action is composed, we may conceive how difficult it\nis in many cases to determine which of two opponents has the\nsuperiority on his side. Often all hangs on the silken thread of\nimagination.\n\nEverything then depends on discovering the culminating point by the\nfine tact of judgment. Here we come upon a seeming contradiction. The\ndefence is stronger than the attack; therefore we should think that the\nlatter can never lead us too far, for as long as the weaker form\nremains strong enough for what is required, the stronger form ought to\nbe still more so.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. Destruction of the Enemy\u2019s Armies\n\nThe destruction of the enemy\u2019s armed forces is the means to the\nend\u2014What is meant by this\u2014The price it costs\u2014Different points of view\nwhich are possible in respect to the subject.\n\n1, only to destroy as many as the object of the attack requires.\n\n2, or as many on the whole as is possible.\n\n3, the sparing of our own forces as the principal point of view.\n\n4, this may again be carried so far, that the assailant does nothing\ntowards the destruction of the enemy\u2019s force _except when a favourable\nopportunity offers_, which may also be the case with regard to the\nobject of the attack, as already mentioned in the third chapter.\n\nThe only means of destroying the enemy\u2019s armed force is by combat, but\nthis may be done in two ways: 1, directly, 2, indirectly, through a\ncombination of combats.\u2014If, therefore, the battle is the chief means,\nstill it is not the only means. The capture of a fortress or of a\nportion of territory, is in itself really a destruction of the enemy\u2019s\nforce, and it may also lead to a still greater destruction, and\ntherefore, also, be an indirect means.\n\nThe occupation of an undefended strip of territory, therefore, in\naddition to the value which it has as a direct fulfilment of the end,\nmay also reckon as a destruction of the enemy\u2019s force as well. The\nman\u0153uvring, so as to draw an enemy out of a district of country which\nhe has occupied, is somewhat similar, and must, therefore, only be\nlooked at from the same point of view, and not as a success of arms,\nproperly speaking\u2014These means are generally estimated at more than they\nare worth\u2014they have seldom the value of a battle; besides which it is\nalways to be feared that the disadvantageous position to which they\nlead, will be overlooked; they are seductive through the low price\nwhich they cost.\n\nWe must always consider means of this description as small investments,\nfrom which only small profits are to be expected; as means suited only\nto very limited State relations and weak motives. Then they are\ncertainly better than battles without a purpose\u2014than victories, the\nresults of which cannot be realised to the full.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. The Offensive Battle\n\nWhat we have said about the defensive battle throws a strong light upon\nthe offensive also.\n\nWe there had in view that class of battle in which the defensive\nappears most decidedly pronounced, in order that we might convey a more\nvivid impression of its nature;\u2014but only the fewer number are of that\nkind; most battles are _demirencontres_ in which the defensive\ncharacter disappears to a great extent. It is otherwise with the\noffensive battle: it preserves its character under all circumstances,\nand can keep up that character the more boldly, as the defender is out\nof his proper _esse_. For this reason, in the battle which is not\npurely defensive and in the real _rencontres_, there always remains\nalso something of the difference of the character of the battle on the\none side and on the other. The chief distinctive characteristic of the\noffensive battle is the man\u0153uvre to turn or surround, therefore, the\ninitiative as well.\n\nA combat in lines, formed to envelope, has evidently in itself great\nadvantages; it is, however, a subject of tactics. The attack must not\ngive up these advantages because the defence has a means of\ncounteracting them; for the attack itself cannot make use of that\nmeans, inasmuch as it is one that is too closely dependent upon other\nthings connected with the defence. To be able in turn to operate with\nsuccess against the flanks of an enemy, whose aim is to turn our line,\nit is necessary to have a well chosen and well prepared position. But\nwhat is much more important is, that all the advantages which the\ndefensive possesses, cannot be made use of; most defences are poor\nmakeshifts; the greater number of defenders find themselves in a very\nharassing and critical position, in which, expecting the worst, they\nmeet the attack half way. The consequence of this is, that battles\nformed with enveloping lines, or even with an oblique front, which\nshould properly result from an advantageous relation of the lines of\ncommunication, are commonly the result of a moral and physical\npreponderance (Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena). Besides, in the first battle\nfought, the base of the assailant, if not superior to that of the\ndefender, is still mostly very wide in extent, on account of the\nproximity of the frontier; he can, therefore, afford to venture a\nlittle.\u2014The flank-attack, that is, the battle with oblique front, is\nmoreover generally more efficacious than the enveloping form. It is an\nerroneous idea that an enveloping strategic advance from the very\ncommencement must be connected with it, as at Prague. (That strategic\nmeasure has seldom anything in common with it, and is very hazardous;\nof which we shall speak further in the attack of a theatre of war.)\n\nAs it is an object with the commander in the defensive battle to delay\nthe decision as long as possible, and gain time, because a defensive\nbattle undecided at sunset is commonly one gained: therefore the\ncommander, in the offensive battle, requires to hasten the decision;\nbut, on the other hand, there is a great risk in too much haste,\nbecause it leads to a waste of forces. One peculiarity in the offensive\nbattle is the uncertainty, in most cases, as to the position of the\nenemy; it is a complete groping about amongst things that are unknown\n(Austerlitz, Wagram, Hohenlinden, Jena, Katzbach). The more this is the\ncase, so much the more concentration of forces becomes paramount, and\nturning a flank to be preferred to surrounding. That the principal\nfruits of victory are first gathered in the pursuit, we have already\nlearnt in the twelfth chapter of the 4th Book. According to the nature\nof the thing, the pursuit is more an integral part of the whole action\nin the offensive than in the defensive battle.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Passage of Rivers\n\n1. A large river which crosses the direction of the attack is always\nvery inconvenient for the assailant: for when he has crossed it he is\ngenerally limited to one point of passage, and, therefore, unless he\nremains close to the river he becomes very much hampered in his\nmovements. Whether he meditates bringing on a decisive battle after\ncrossing, or may expect the enemy to attack him, he exposes himself to\ngreat danger; therefore, without a decided superiority, both in moral\nand physical force, a general will not place himself in such a\nposition.\n\n2. From this mere disadvantage of placing a river behind an army, a\nriver is much oftener capable of defence than it would otherwise be. If\nwe suppose that this defence is not considered the only means of\nsafety, but is so planned that even if it fails, still a stand can be\nmade near the river, then the assailant in his calculations must add to\nthe resistance which he may experience in the defence of the river, all\nthe advantages mentioned in No. 1, as being on the side of the defender\nof a river, and the effect of the two together is, that we usually see\ngenerals show great respect to a river before they attack it if it is\ndefended.\n\n3. But in the preceding book we have seen, that under certain\nconditions, the real defence of a river promises right good results;\nand if we refer to experience, we must allow that such results follow\nin reality much more frequently than theory promises, because in theory\nwe only calculate with real circumstances as we find them take place,\nwhile in the execution, things commonly appear to the assailant much\nmore difficult than they really are, and they become therefore a\ngreater clog on his action.\n\nSuppose, for instance, an attack which is not intended to end in a\ngreat solution, and which is not conducted with thorough energy, we may\nbe sure that in carrying it out a number of little obstacles and\naccidents, which no theory could calculate upon, will start up to the\ndisadvantage of the assailant, because he is the acting party, and\nmust, therefore, come first into collision with such impediments. Let\nus just think for a moment how often some of the insignificant rivers\nof Lombardy have been successfully defended!\u2014If, on the other hand,\ncases may also be found in military history, in which the defence of\nrivers has failed to realise what was expected of them, that lies in\nthe extravagant results sometimes looked for from this means; results\nnot founded in any kind of way on its tactical nature, but merely on\nits well-known efficacy, to which people have thought there were no\nbounds.\n\n4. It is only when the defender commits the mistake of placing his\nentire dependence on the defence of a river, so that in case it is\nforced he becomes involved in great difficulty, in a kind of\ncatastrophe, it is only then that the defence of a river can be looked\nupon as a form of defence favourable to the attack, for it is certainly\neasier to force the passage of a river than to gain an ordinary battle.\n\n5. It follows of itself from what has just been said that the defence\nof a river may become of great value if no great solution is desired,\nbut where that is to be expected, either from the superior numbers or\nenergy of the enemy, then this means, if wrongly used, may turn to the\npositive advantage of the assailant.\n\n6. There are very few river-lines of defence which cannot be turned\neither on the whole length or at some particular point. Therefore the\nassailant, superior in numbers and bent upon serious blows, has the\nmeans of making a demonstration at one point and passing at another,\nand then by superior numbers, and advancing, regardless of all\nopposition, he can repair any disadvantageous relations in which he may\nhave been placed by the issue of the first encounters: for his general\nsuperiority will enable him to do so. It very rarely happens that the\npassage of a river is actually tactically forced by overpowering the\nenemy\u2019s principal post by the effect of superior fire and greater\nvalour on the part of the troops, and the expression, _forcing a\npassage_ is only to be taken in a strategic sense, in so far that the\nassailant by his passage at an undefended or only slightly defended\npoint within the line of defence, braves all the dangers which, in the\ndefender\u2019s view, should result to him through the crossing.\u2014But the\nworst which an assailant can do, is to attempt a real passage at\nseveral points, unless they lie close to each other and admit of all\nthe troops joining in the combat; for as the defender must necessarily\nhave his forces separated, therefore, if the assailant fractions his in\nlike manner, he throws away his natural advantage. In that way\nBellegarde lost the battle on the Mincio, 1814, where by chance both\narmies passed at different points at the same time, and the Austrians\nwere more divided than the French.\n\n7. If the defender remains on this side of the river, it necessarily\nfollows that there are two ways to gain a strategic advantage over him:\neither to pass at some point, regardless of his position, and so to\noutbid him in the same means, or to give battle. In the first case, the\nrelations of the base and lines of communications should chiefly\ndecide, but it often happens that special circumstances exercise more\ninfluence than general relations; he who can choose the best positions,\nwho knows best how to make his dispositions, who is better obeyed,\nwhose army marches fastest, etc., may contend with advantage against\ngeneral circumstances. As regards the second means, it presupposes on\nthe part of the assailant the means, suitable relations, and the\ndetermination to fight; but when these conditions may be presupposed,\nthe defender will not readily venture upon this mode of defending a\nriver.\n\n8. As a final result, we must therefore give as our opinion that,\nalthough the passage of a river in itself rarely presents great\ndifficulties, yet in all cases not immediately connected with a great\ndecision, so many apprehensions of the consequences and of future\ncomplications are bound up with it, that at all events the progress of\nthe assailant may easily be so far arrested that he either leaves the\ndefender on this side the river, or he passes, and then remains close\nto the river. For it rarely happens that two armies remain any length\nof time confronting one another on different sides of a river.\n\nBut also in cases of a great solution, a river is an important object;\nit always weakens and deranges the offensive; and the most fortunate\nthing, in this case is, if the defender is induced through that to look\nupon the river as a tactical barrier, and to make the particular\ndefence of that barrier the principal act of his resistance, so that\nthe assailant at once obtains the advantage of being able to strike a\ndecisive blow in a very easy manner.\u2014Certainly, in the first instance,\nthis blow will never amount to a complete defeat of the enemy, but it\nwill consist of several advantageous combats, and these bring about a\nstate of general relations very adverse to the enemy, as happened to\nthe Austrians on the Lower Rhine, 1796.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. Attack on Defensive Positions\n\nIn the book on the defence, it has been sufficiently explained how far\ndefensive positions can compel the assailant either to attack them, or\nto give up his advance. Only those which can effect this are\nsubservient to our object, and suited to wear out or neutralise the\nforces of the aggressor, either wholly or in part, and in so far the\nattack can do nothing against such positions, that is to say, there are\nno means at its disposal by which to counter-balance this advantage.\nBut defensive positions are not all really of this kind. If the\nassailant sees he can pursue his object without attacking such a\nposition, it would be an error to make the attack; if he cannot follow\nout his object, then it is a question whether he cannot man\u0153uvre the\nenemy out of his position by threatening his flank. It is only if such\nmeans are ineffectual, that a commander determines on the attack of a\ngood position, and then an attack directed against one side, always in\ngeneral presents the less difficulty; but the choice of the side must\ndepend on the position and direction of the mutual lines of retreat,\nconsequently, on the threatening the enemy\u2019s retreat, and covering our\nown. Between these two objects a competition may arise, in which case\nthe first is entitled to the preference, as it is of an offensive\nnature; therefore homogeneous with the attack, whilst the other is of a\ndefensive character. But it is certain, and may be regarded as a truth\nof the first importance, that _to attack an enemy thoroughly inured to\nwar, in a good position, is a critical thing_. No doubt instances are\nnot wanting of such battles, and of successful ones too, as Torgau,\nWagram (we do not say Dresden, because we cannot call the enemy there\nquite aguerried); but upon the whole, the danger is small, and it\nvanishes altogether, opposed to the infinite number of cases in which\nwe have seen the most resolute commanders make their bow before such\npositions. (Torres Vedras.)\n\nWe must not, however, confuse the subject now before us with ordinary\nbattles. Most battles are real \u201c_rencontres_,\u201d in which one party\ncertainly occupies a position, but one which has not been prepared.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. Attack on an Entrenched Camp\n\nIt was for a time the fashion to speak with contempt of entrenchments\nand their utility. The cordon lines of the French frontier, which had\nbeen often burst through; the entrenched camp at Breslau in which the\nDuke of Bevern was defeated, the battle of Torgau, and several other\ncases, led to this opinion of their value; and the victories of\nFrederick the Great, gained by the principle of movement and the use of\nthe offensive, threw a fresh light on all kind of defensive action, all\nfighting in a fixed position, particularly in intrenchments, and\nbrought them still more into contempt. Certainly, when a few thousand\nmen are to defend several miles of country, and when entrenchments are\nnothing more than ditches reversed, they are worth nothing, and they\nconstitute a dangerous snare through the confidence which is placed in\nthem. But is it not inconsistent, or rather nonsensical, to extend this\nview even to the _idea of field fortification_, in a mere swaggering\nspirit (as Templehof does)? What would be the object of entrenchments\ngenerally, if not to strengthen the defence? No, not only reason but\nexperience, in hundreds and thousands of instances, show that a\nwell-traced, sufficiently manned, and well defended entrenchment is,\n_as a rule, to be looked upon as an impregnable point_, and is also so\nregarded by the attack. Starting from this point of the efficiency of a\nsingle entrenchment, we argue that there can be no doubt as to the\nattack of an entrenched camp being a most difficult undertaking, and\none in which generally it will be impossible for the assailant to\nsucceed.\n\nIt is consistent with the nature of an entrenched camp that it should\nbe weakly garrisoned; but with good, natural obstacles of ground and\nstrong field works, it is possible to bid defiance to superior numbers.\nFrederick the Great considered the attack of the camp of Pirna as\nimpracticable, although he had at his command double the force of the\ngarrison; and although it has been since asserted, here and there, that\nit was quite possible to have taken it; the only proof in favour of\nthis assertion is founded on the bad condition of the Saxon troops; an\nargument which does not at all detract in any way from the value of\nentrenchments. But it is a question, whether those who have since\ncontended not only for the feasibility but also for the facility of the\nattack, would have made up their minds to execute it at the time.\n\nWe, therefore, think that the attack of an entrenched camp belongs to\nthe category of quite exceptional means on the part of the offensive.\nIt is only if the entrenchments have been thrown up in haste are not\ncompleted, still less strengthed by obstacles to prevent their being\napproached, or when, as is often the case taken altogether, the whole\ncamp is only an outline of what it was intended to be, a half-finished\nruin, that then an attack on it may be advisable, and at the same time\nbecome the road to gain an easy conquest over the enemy.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. Attack on a Mountain\n\nFrom the fifth and following chapters of the sixth book, may be deduced\nsufficiently the strategic relations of a mountain generally, both as\nregards the defence and the attack. We have also there endeavoured to\nexplain the part which a mountain plays as a line of defence, properly\nso called, and from that naturally follows how it is to be looked upon\nin this signification from the side of the assailant. There remains,\ntherefore, little for us to say here on this important subject. Our\nchief result was there that the defence must choose as his point of\nview a secondary combat, or the entirely different one of a great\ngeneral action; that in the first case the attack of a mountain can\nonly be regarded as a necessary evil, because all the circumstances are\nunfavourable to it; but in the second case the advantages are on the\nside of the attack.\n\nAn attack, therefore, armed with the means and the resolution for a\nbattle, will give the enemy a meeting in the mountains, and certainly\nfind his account in so doing.\n\nBut we must here once more repeat that it will be difficult to obtain\nrespect for this conclusion, because it runs counter to appearances,\nand is also, at first sight, contrary to the experience of war. It has\nbeen observed, in most cases hitherto, that an army pressing forward to\nthe attack (whether seeking a great general action or not), has\nconsidered it an unusual piece of good fortune if the enemy has not\noccupied the intervening mountains, and has itself then hastened to be\nbeforehand in the occupation of them. No one will find this\nforestalling of the enemy in any way inconsistent with the interests of\nthe assailant; in our view this is also quite admissible, only we must\npoint out clearly a fine distinction here between circumstances.\n\nAn army advancing against the enemy, with the design of bringing him to\na general action, if it has to pass over an unoccupied range of\nmountain, has naturally to apprehend that the enemy may, at the last\nmoment, block up those very passes which it proposes to use on its\nmarch: in such a case, the assailant will by no means have the same\nadvantages as if the enemy occupied merely an ordinary mountain\nposition. The latter is, for instance, not then in a position extended\nbeyond measure, nor is he in uncertainty as to the road which the\nassailant will take; the assailant has not been able to choose his road\nwith reference to the enemy\u2019s position, and therefore this battle in\nthe mountains is not then united with all those advantages on his side\nof which we have spoken in the sixth book; under such circumstances,\nthe defender might be found in an impregnable position\u2014According to\nthis, the defender might even have means at his command of making\nadvantageous use of the mountains for a great battle.\u2014This is, at any\nrate, possible; but if we reflect on the difficulties which the\ndefender would have to encounter in establishing himself in a strong\nposition in the mountains just at the last moment, particularly if he\nhas left it entirely unoccupied before, we may put down this means of\ndefence as one upon which no dependence can be placed, and therefore as\none, the _probability_ of which the assailant has little reason to\ndread. But even if it is a very improbable case, yet still it is\nnatural to fear it; for in war, many a thing is very natural, and yet\nin a certain measure superfluous.\n\nBut another measure which the assailant has to apprehend here is, a\npreliminary defence of the mountains by an advanced guard or chain of\noutposts. This means, also, will seldom accord with the interests of\nthe defender; but the assailant has not the means of discerning how far\nit may be beneficial to the defender or otherwise, and therefore he has\nonly to provide against the worst.\n\nFurther, our view by no means excludes the possibility of a position\nbeing quite unassailable from the mountainous character of the ground:\nthere are such positions which are not, on that account, in the\nmountains (Pirna, Schmotseifen, Meissen, Feldkirch), and it is just\nbecause they are not in the mountains, that they are so well suited for\ndefence. We may also very well conceive that positions may be found in\nmountains themselves where the defender might avoid the ordinary\ndisadvantages of mountain-positions, as, for instance, on lofty\n_plateaux;_ but they are not common, and we can only take into our view\nthe generality of cases.\n\nIt is just in military history that we see how little\nmountain-positions are suited to decisive defensive battles, for great\ngenerals have always preferred a position in the plains, when it was\ntheir object to fight a battle of the first order; and throughout the\nwhole range of military history, there are no examples of decisive\nbattles in the mountains, except in the Revolutionary Wars, and even\nthere it was plainly a false application and analogy which led to the\nuse of mountain-positions, where of necessity a decisive battle had to\nbe fought (1793 and 1794 in the Vosges, and 1795, 1796, and 1797 in\nItaly). Melas has been generally blamed for not having occupied the\nAlpine passes in 1800; but such criticisms are nothing more than \u201cearly\nnotions\u201d\u2014we might say\u2014childlike judgments founded on appearances.\nBuonaparte, in Mela\u2019s place, would just as little have thought of\noccupying the passes.\n\nThe dispositions for the attack of mountain-positions are mostly of a\ntactical nature; but we think it necessary to insert here the following\nremarks as to the general outline, consequently as to those parts which\ncome into immediate contact with, and are coincident with, strategy.\n\n1. As we cannot move wide of the roads in mountains as we can in other\ndistricts, and form two or three columns out of one, when the exigency\nof the moment requires that the mass of the troops should be divided;\nbut, on the contrary, we are generally confined to long defiles; the\nadvance in mountains must generally be made on several roads, or rather\nupon a somewhat broader front.\n\n2. Against a mountain line of defence of wide extent, the attack must\nnaturally be made with concentrated forces; to surround the whole\ncannot be thought of there, and if an important result is to be gained\nfrom victory, it must be obtained rather by bursting through the\nenemy\u2019s line, and separating the wings, than by surrounding the force,\nand so cutting it off. A rapid, continuous advance upon the enemy\u2019s\nprincipal line of retreat is there the natural endeavour of the\nassailant.\n\n3. But if the enemy to be attacked occupies a position somewhat\nconcentrated, turning movements are an essential part of the scheme of\nattack, as the front attacks fall upon the mass of the defender\u2019s\nforces; but the turning movements again must be made more with a view\nto cutting off the enemy\u2019s retreat, than as a tactical rolling up of\nthe flank or attack on the rear; for mountain positions are capable of\na prolonged resistance even in rear if forces are not wanting, and the\nquickest result is invariably to be expected only from the enemy\u2019s\napprehension of losing his line of retreat; this sort of uneasiness\narises sooner, and acts more powerfully in mountains, because, when it\ncomes to the worst, it is not so easy to make room sword in hand. A\nmere demonstration is no sufficient means here; it might certainly\nman\u0153uvre the enemy out of his position, but would not ensure any\nspecial result; the aim must therefore be to cut him off, in reality,\nfrom his line of retreat.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. Attack on Cordon Lines\n\nIf a supreme decision should lie in their defence and their attack,\nthey place the assailant in an advantageous situation, for their wide\nextent is still more in opposition to all the requirements of a\ndecisive battle than the direct defence of a river or a mountain range.\nEugene\u2019s lines of Denain, 1712, are an illustration to the point here,\nfor their loss was quite equal to a complete defeat, but Villars would\nhardly have gained such a victory against Eugene in a concentrated\nposition. If the offensive side does not possess the means required for\na decisive battle, then even lines are treated with respect, that is,\nif they are occupied by the main body of an army; for instance, those\nof Stollhofen, held by Louis of Baden in the year 1703, were respected\neven by Villars. But if they are only held by a secondary force, then\nit is merely a question of the strength of the corps which we can spare\nfor their attack. The resistance in such cases is seldom great, but at\nthe same time the result of the victory is seldom worth much.\n\nThe circumvallation lines of a besieger have a peculiar character, of\nwhich we shall speak in the chapter on the attack of a theatre of war.\n\nAll positions of the cordon kind, as, for instance, entrenched lines of\noutposts, etc., etc., have always this property, that they can be\neasily broken through; but when they are not forced with a view of\ngoing further and bringing on a decision, there is so little to be\ngained in general by the attack, that it hardly repays the trouble\nexpended.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. Man\u0153uvring\n\n1. We have already touched upon this subject in the thirtieth chapter\nof the sixth book. It is one which concerns the defence and the attack\nin common; nevertheless it has always in it something more of the\nnature of the offensive than the defensive. We shall therefore now\nexamine it more thoroughly.\n\n2. Man\u0153uvring is not only the opposite of executing the offensive by\nforce, by means of great battles; it stands also opposed to every such\nexecution of the offensive as proceeds directly from offensive means,\nlet it be either an operation against the enemy\u2019s communications, or\nline of retreat, a diversion, etc., etc.\n\n3. If we adhere to the ordinary use of the word, there is in the\nconception of man\u0153uvring an effect which is first _produced_, to a\ncertain extent, from nothing, that is, from a state of rest or\n_equilibrium_ through the mistakes into which the enemy is enticed. It\nis like the first moves in a game of chess. It is, therefore, a game of\nevenly-balanced powers, to obtain results from favourable opportunity,\nand then to use these as an advantage over the enemy.\n\n4. But those interests which, partly as the final object, partly as the\nprincipal supports (pivot) of action, must be considered in this\nmatter, are chiefly:\u2014\n\n(_a._) The subsistence from which it is our object to cut off the\nenemy, or to impede his obtaining.\n\n(_b._) The junction with other corps.\n\n(_c._) The threatening other communications with the interior of the\ncountry, or with other armies or corps.\n\n(_d._) Threatening the retreat.\n\n(_e._) Attack of isolated points with superior forces\n\nThese five interests may establish themselves in the smallest features\nof detail belonging to any particular situation; and any such object\nthen becomes, on that account, a point round which everything for a\ntime revolves. A bridge, a road, or an entrenchment, often thus plays\nthe principal part. It is easy to show in each case that it is only the\nrelation which any such object has to one of the above interests which\ngives it importance.\n\n(_f._) The result of a successful man\u0153uvre, then, is for the offensive,\nor rather for the active party (which may certainly be just as well the\ndefensive), a piece of land, a magazine, etc.\n\n(_g._) In a strategic man\u0153uvre two converse propositions appear, which\nlook like different man\u0153uvres, and have sometimes served for the\nderivation of false maxims and rules, and have four branches, which\nare, however, in reality, all necessary constituents of the same thing,\nand are to be regarded as such. The first antithesis is the surrounding\nthe enemy, and the operating on interior lines; the second is the\nconcentration of forces, and their extension over several posts.\n\n(_h._) As regards the first antithesis, we certainly cannot say that\none of its members deserves a general preference over the other; for\npartly it is natural that action of one kind calls forth the other as\nits natural counterpoise, its true remedy; partly the enveloping form\nis homogeneous to the attack, but the use of interior lines to the\ndefence; and therefore, in most cases, the first is more suitable to\nthe offensive side, the latter to the defensive. That form will gain\nthe upper hand which is used with the greatest skill.\n\n(_i._) The branches of the other antithesis can just as little be\nclassed the one above the other. The stronger force has the choice of\nextending itself over several posts; by that means he will obtain for\nhimself a convenient strategic situation, and liberty of action in many\nrespects, and spare the physical powers of his troops. The weaker, on\nthe other hand, must keep himself more concentrated, and seek by\nrapidity of movement to counteract the disadvantage of his inferior\nnumbers. This greater mobility supposes greater readiness in marching.\nThe weaker must therefore put a greater strain on his physical and\nmoral forces,\u2014a final result which we must naturally come upon\neverywhere if we would always be consistent, and which, therefore, we\nregard, to a certain extent, as the logical test of the reasoning. The\ncampaigns of Frederick the Great against Daun, in the years 1759 and\n1760, and against Laudon, 1761, and Montecuculis against Turenne in\n1673, 1675, have always been reckoned the most scientific combinations\nof this kind, and from them we have chiefly derived our view.\n\n(_j._) Just as the four parts of the two antitheses above supposed must\nnot be abused by being made the foundation of false maxims and rules,\nso we must also give a caution against attaching to other general\nrelations, such as base, ground, etc., an importance and a decisive\ninfluence which they do not in reality possess. The smaller the\ninterests at stake, so much the more important the details of time and\nplace become, so much the more that which is general and great falls\ninto the background, having, in a certain measure no place in small\ncalculations. Is there to be found, viewed generally, a more absurd\nsituation than that of Turenne in 1675, when he stood with his back\nclose to the Rhine, his army along a line of three miles in extent, and\nwith his bridge of retreat at the extremity of his right wing? But his\nmeasures answered their object, and it is not without reason that they\nare acknowledged to show a high degree of skill and intelligence. We\ncan only understand this result and this skill when we look more\nclosely into details, and judge of them according to the value which\nthey must have had in this particular case.\n\nWe are convinced that there are no rules of any kind for strategic\nman\u0153uvring; that no method, no general principle can determine the mode\nof action; but that superior energy, precision, order, obedience,\nintrepidity in the most special and trifling circumstances may find\nmeans to obtain for themselves signal advantages, and that, therefore,\nchiefly on those qualities will depend the victory in this sort of\ncontest.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. Attack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods\n\nMorasses, that is, impassable swamps, which are only traversed by a few\nembankments, present peculiar difficulties to the tactical attack, as\nwe have stated in treating of the defence. Their breadth hardly ever\nadmits of the enemy being driven from the opposite bank by artillery,\nand of the construction of a roadway across. The strategic consequence\nis that endeavours are made to avoid attacking them by passing round\nthem. Where the state of culture, as in many low countries, is so great\nthat the means of passing are innumerable, the resistance of the\ndefender is still strong enough relatively, but it is proportionably\nweakened for an absolute decision, and, therefore, wholly unsuitable\nfor it. On the other hand, if the low land (as in Holland) is aided by\ninundations, the resistance may become absolute, and defy every attack.\nThis was shown in Holland in the year 1672, when, after the conquest\nand occupation of all the fortresses outside the margin of the\ninundation, 50,000 French troops became available, who,\u2014first under\nCond\u00e9 and then under Luxemburg,\u2014were unable to force the line of\ninundation, although it was only defended by about 20,000 men. The\ncampaign of the Prussians, in 1787, under the Duke of Brunswick,\nagainst the Dutch, ended, it is true, in a quite contrary way, as these\nlines were then carried by a force very little superior to the\ndefenders, and with trifling loss; but the reason of that is to be\nfound in the dissensions amongst the defenders from political\nanimosities, and a want of unity in the command, and yet nothing is\nmore certain than that the success of the campaign, that is, the\nadvance through the last line of inundation up to the walls of\nAmsterdam depended on a point of such extreme nicety that it is\nimpossible to draw any general deduction from this case. The point\nalluded to was the leaving unguarded the Sea of Haarlem. By means of\nthis, the Duke turned the inundation line, and got in rear of the post\nof Amselvoen. If the Dutch had had a couple of armed vessels on this\nlake the duke would never have got to Amsterdam, for he was \u201c_au bout\nde son latin._\u201d What influence that might have had on the conclusion of\npeace does not concern us here, but it is certain that any further\nquestion of carrying the last line of inundation would have been put an\nend to completely.\n\nThe winter is, no doubt, the natural enemy of this means of defence, as\nthe French have shown in 1794 and 1795, but it must be a _severe_\nwinter.\n\nWoods, which are scarcely passable, we have also included amongst the\nmeans which afford the defence powerful assistance. If they are of no\ngreat depth then the assailant may force his way through by several\nroads running near one another, and thus reach better ground, for no\none point can have any great tactical strength, as we can never suppose\na wood as absolutely impassable as a river or a morass.\u2014But when, as in\nRussia and Poland, a very large tract of country is nearly everywhere\ncovered with wood, and the assailant has not the power of getting\nbeyond it, then, certainly, his situation becomes very embarrassing. We\nhave only to think of the difficulties he must contend with to subsist\nhis army, and how little he can do in the depths of the forest to make\nhis ubiquitous adversary feel his superiority in numbers. Certainly\nthis is one of the worst situations in which the offensive can be\nplaced.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. Attack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision\n\nMost of the subjects have been already touched upon in the sixth book,\nand by their mere reflection, throw sufficient light on the attack.\n\nMoreover, the conception of an enclosed theatre of war, has a nearer\nrelation to the defence than to the attack. Many of the leading points,\n_the object of attack, the sphere of action of victory_, etc., have\nbeen already treated of in that book, and that which is most decisive\nand essential on the nature of the attack, cannot be made to appear\nuntil we get to the plan of war: still there remains a good deal to say\nhere, and we shall again commence with the campaign, _in which a great\ndecision is positively intended_.\n\n1. The first aim of the attack is a victory. To all the advantages\nwhich the defender finds in the nature of his situation, the assailant\ncan only oppose superior numbers; and, perhaps, in addition, the slight\nadvantage which the feeling of being the offensive and advancing side\ngives an army. The importance of this feeling, however, is generally\noverrated; for it does not last long, and will not hold out against\nreal difficulties. Of course, we assume that the defender is as\nfaultless and judicious in all he does as the aggressor. Our object in\nthis observation is to set aside those vague ideas of sudden attack and\nsurprise, which, in the attack, are generally assumed to be fertile\nsources of victory, and which yet, in reality, never occur except under\nspecial circumstances. The nature of the real strategic surprise, we\nhave already spoken of elsewhere.\u2014If, then, the attack is inferior in\nphysical power, it must have the ascendancy in moral power, in order to\nmake up for the disadvantages which are inherent in the offensive form;\nif the superiority in that way is also wanting, then there are no good\ngrounds for the attack, and it will not succeed.\n\n2. As prudence is the real genius of the defender, so boldness and\nself-confidence must animate the assailant. We do not mean that the\nopposite qualities in each case may be altogether wanting, but that the\nqualities named have the greatest affinity to the attack and defence\nrespectively. These qualities are only in reality necessary because\naction in war is no mere mathematical calculation; it is activity which\nis carried on if not in the dark, at all events in a feeble twilight,\nin which we must trust ourselves to the leader who is best suited to\ncarry out the aim we have in view.\u2014The weaker the defender shows\nhimself morally, the bolder the assailant should become.\n\n3. For victory, it is necessary that there should be a battle between\nthe enemy\u2019s principal force and our own. This is less doubtful as\nregards the attack than in regard to the defence, for the assailant\ngoes in search of the defender in his position. But we have maintained\n(in treating of the defensive) that the offensive should not seek the\ndefender out if he has placed himself in a _false_ position, because he\nmay be sure that the defender will seek _him_ out, and then he will\nhave the advantage of fighting where the defender has not prepared the\nground. Here all depends on the road and direction which have the\ngreatest importance; this is a point which was not examined in the\ndefence, being reserved for the present chapter. We shall, therefore,\nsay what is necessary about it here.\n\n4. We have already pointed out those objects to which the attack should\nbe more immediately directed, and which, therefore, are the ends to be\nobtained by victory; now, if these are within the theatre of war which\nis attacked, and within the probable sphere of victory, then the road\nto them is the natural direction of the blow to be struck. But we must\nnot forget that the object of the attack does not generally obtain its\nsignification until victory has been gained, and therefore the mind\nmust always embrace the idea of victory with it; the principal\nconsideration for the assailant is, therefore, not so much merely to\nreach the object as to reach it a conqueror; therefore the direction of\nhis blow should be not so much on the object itself as on the way which\nthe enemy\u2019s army must take to reach it. This way is the immediate\nobject of the attack. To fall in with the enemy before he has reached\nthis object, to cut him off from it, and in that position to beat\nhim\u2014to do this is to gain an intensified victory.\u2014If, for example, the\nenemy\u2019s capital is the object of the attack, and the defender has not\nplaced himself between it and the assailant, the latter would be wrong\nin marching direct upon the capital, he would do much better by taking\nhis direction upon the line connecting the defender\u2019s army with the\ncapital, and seeking there the victory which shall place the capital in\nhis hands.\n\nIf there is no great object within the assailant\u2019s sphere of victory,\nthen the enemy\u2019s line of communication with the nearest great object to\nhim is the point of paramount importance. The question, then, for every\nassailant to ask himself is, If I am successful in the battle, what is\nthe first use I shall make of the victory? The object to be gained, as\nindicated by the answer to this question, shows the natural direction\nfor his blow. If the defender has placed himself in that direction, he\nhas done right, and there is nothing to do but to go and look for him\nthere. If his position is too strong, then the assailant must seek to\nturn it, that is, make a virtue of necessity. But if the defender has\nnot placed himself on this right spot, then the assailant chooses that\ndirection, and as soon as he comes in line with the defender, if the\nlatter has not in the mean time made a lateral movement, and placed\nhimself across his path, he should turn himself in the direction of the\ndefender\u2019s line of communication in order to seek an action there; if\nthe defender remains quite stationary, then the assailant must wheel\nround towards him and attack him in rear.\n\nOf all the roads amongst which the assailant has a choice, the great\nroads which serve the commerce of the country are always the best and\nthe most natural to choose. To avoid any very great bends, more direct\nroads, even if smaller, must be chosen, for a line of retreat which\ndeviates much from a direct line is always perilous.\n\n5. The assailant, when he sets out with a view to a great decision, has\nseldom any reason for dividing his forces, and if, notwithstanding\nthis, he does so, it generally proceeds from a want of clear views. He\nshould therefore only advance with his columns on such a width of front\nas will admit of their all coming into action together. If the enemy\nhimself has divided his forces, so much the better for the assailant,\nand to preserve this further advantage small demonstrations should be\nmade against the enemy\u2019s corps which have separated from the main body;\nthese are the strategic _fausses attaques;_ a detachment of forces _for\nthis purpose_ would then be justifiable.\n\nSuch separation into several columns as is indispensably necessary must\nbe made use of for the disposition of the tactical attack in the\nenveloping form, for that form is natural to the attack, and must not\nbe disregarded without good reason. But it must be only of a tactical\nnature, for a strategic envelopment when a great blow takes place, is a\ncomplete waste of power. It can only be excused when the assailant is\nso strong that there can be no doubt at all about the result.\n\n6. But the attack requires also prudence, for the assailant has also a\nrear, and has communications which must be protected. This service of\nprotection must be performed as far as possible by the manner in which\nthe army advances, that is, _eo ipso_ by the army itself. If a force\nmust be specially detailed for this duty, and therefore a partition of\nforces is required, this cannot but naturally weaken the force of the\nblow itself.\u2014As a large army is always in the habit of advancing with a\nfront of a day\u2019s march at least in breadth, therefore, if the lines of\nretreat and communication do not deviate much from the perpendicular,\nthe covering of those lines is in most cases attained by the front of\nthe army.\n\nDangers of this description, to which the assailant is exposed, must be\nmeasured chiefly by the situation and character of the adversary. When\neverything lies under the pressure of an imminent great decision, there\nis little room for the defender to engage in undertakings of this\ndescription; the assailant has, therefore, in ordinary circumstances\nnot much to fear. But if the advance is over, if the assailant himself\nis gradually passing into the defensive, then the covering of the rear\nbecomes every moment more necessary, becomes more a thing of the first\nimportance. For the rear of the assailant being naturally weaker than\nthat of the defender, therefore the latter, long before he passes over\nto the real offensive, and even at the same time that he is yielding\nground, may have commenced to operate against the communications of the\nassailant.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. Attack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great\nDecision\n\n1. Although there is neither the will nor the power sufficient for a\ngreat decision, there may still exist a decided view in a strategic\nattack, but it is directed against some secondary object. If the attack\nsucceeds, then, with the attainment of this object the whole falls\nagain into a state of rest and equilibrium. If difficulties to a\ncertain extent present themselves, the general progress of the attack\ncomes to a standstill before the object is gained. Then in its place\ncommences a mere occasional offensive or strategic man\u0153uvring. This is\nthe character of most campaigns.\n\n2. The objects which may be the aim of an offensive of this description\nare:\u2014\n\n(_a._) _A strip of territory;_ gain in means of subsistence, perhaps\ncontributions, sparing our own territory, equivalents in negotiations\nfor peace\u2014such are the advantages to be derived from this procedure.\nSometimes an idea of the credit of the army is attached to it, as was\nperpetually the case in the wars of the French Marshals in the time of\nLouis XIV. It makes a very important difference whether a portion of\nterritory can be kept or not. In general, the first is the case only\nwhen the territory is on the edge of our own theatre of war, and forms\na natural complement of it. Only such portions come into consideration\nas an equivalent in negotiating a peace, others are usually only taken\npossession of for the duration of a campaign, and to be evacuated when\nwinter begins.\n\n(_b._) _One of the enemy\u2019s principal magazines_. If it is not one of\nconsiderable importance, it can hardly be looked upon as the object of\nan offensive determining a whole campaign. It certainly in itself is a\nloss to the defender, and a gain to the assailant; the great advantage,\nhowever, from it for the latter, is that the loss may compel the\ndefender to retire a little and give up a strip of territory which he\nwould otherwise have kept. The capture of a magazine is therefore in\nreality more a means, and is only spoken of here as an object, because,\nuntil captured, it becomes, for the time being, the immediate definite\naim of action.\n\n(_c._) _The capture of a fortress._\u2014We have made the siege of\nfortresses the subject of a separate chapter, to which we refer our\nreaders. For the reasons there explained, it is easy to conceive how it\nis that fortresses always constitute the best and most desirable\nobjects in those offensive wars and campaigns in which views cannot be\ndirected to the complete overthrow of the enemy or the conquest of an\nimportant part of his territory. We may also easily understand how it\nis that in the wars in the Low Countries, where fortresses are so\nabundant, everything has always turned on the possession of one or\nother of these fortresses, so much so, that the successive conquests of\nwhole provinces _never once appear as leading features;_ while, on the\nother hand, each of these strong places used to be regarded as a\nseparate thing, which had an intrinsic value in itself, and more\nattention was paid to the convenience and facility with which it could\nbe attacked than to the value of the place itself.\n\nAt the same time, the attack of a place of some importance is always a\ngreat undertaking, because it causes a very large expenditure; and, in\nwars in which the whole is not staked at once on the game, this is a\nmatter which ought to be very much considered. Therefore, such a siege\ntakes its place here as one of the most important objects of a\nstrategic attack. The more unimportant a place is, or the less\nearnestness there is about the siege, the smaller the preparations for\nit, the more it is done as a thing _en passant_, so much the smaller\nalso will be the strategic object, and the more it will be a service\nfit for small forces and limited views; and the whole thing then often\nsinks into a kind of sham fight, in order to close the campaign with\nhonour, because as assailant it is incumbent to do something.\n\n(_d._) _A successful combat, encounter, or even battle_, for the sake\nof trophies, or merely for the honour of the arms, sometimes even for\nthe mere ambition of the commanders. That this does happen no one can\ndoubt, unless he knows nothing at all of military history. In the\ncampaigns of the French during the reign of Louis XIV., the most of the\noffensive battles were of this kind. But what is of more importance for\nus is to observe that these things are not without objective value,\nthey are not the mere pastime of vanity; they have a very distinct\ninfluence on peace, and therefore lead as it were direct to the object.\nThe military fame, the moral superiority of the army and of the\ngeneral, are things, the influence of which, although unseen, never\nceases to bear upon the whole action in war.\n\nThe aim of such a combat of course presupposes; (_a_) that there is an\nadequate prospect of victory, (_b_) that there is not a very heavy\nstake dependent on the issue.\u2014Such a battle fought in straitened\nrelations, and with a limited object, must naturally not be confounded\nwith a victory which is not turned to profitable account merely from\nmoral weakness.\n\n3. With the exception of the last of these objects (_d_) they may all\nbe attained without a combat of importance, and generally they are so\nobtained by the offensive. Now, the means which the assailant has at\ncommand without resorting to a decisive battle, are derived from the\ninterests which the defensive has to protect in his theatre of war;\nthey consist, therefore, in threatening his lines of communications,\neither through objects connected with subsistence, as magazines,\nfertile provinces, water communications, etc., or important points\n(bridges, defiles, and such like,) or also by placing other corps in\nthe occupation of strong positions situated inconveniently near to him\nand from which he cannot again drive us out; the seizure of important\ntowns, fertile districts, disturbed parts of the country, which may be\nexcited to rebellion, the threatening of weak allies, etc., etc. Should\nthe attack effectually interrupt the communications, and in such a\nmanner that the defender cannot re-establish them but at a great\nsacrifice, it compels the defender to take up another position more to\nthe rear or to a flank to cover the objects, at the same time giving up\nobjects of secondary importance. Thus a strip of territory is left\nopen; a magazine or a fortress uncovered: the one exposed to be\noverrun, the other to be invested. Out of this, combats greater or less\nmay arise, but in such case they are not sought for and treated as an\nobject of the war but as a necessary evil, and can never exceed a\ncertain degree of greatness and importance.\n\n4. The operation of the defensive on the communications of the\noffensive, is a kind of reaction which in wars waged for the great\nsolution, can only take place when the lines of operation are very\nlong; on the other hand, this kind of reaction lies more in accordance\nwith the nature of things in wars which are not aimed at the great\nsolution. The enemy\u2019s lines of communication are seldom very long in\nsuch a case; but then, neither is it here so much a question of\ninflicting great losses of this description on the enemy, a mere\nimpeding and cutting short his means of subsistence often produces an\neffect, and what the lines want in length is made up for in some degree\nby the length of time which can be expended in this kind of contest\nwith the enemy: for this reason, the covering his strategic flanks\nbecomes an important object for the assailant. If, therefore, a contest\n(or rivalry) of this description takes place between the assailant and\ndefender, then the assailant must seek to compensate by numbers for his\nnatural disadvantages. If he retains sufficient power and resolution\nstill to venture a decisive stroke against one of the enemy\u2019s corps, or\nagainst the enemy\u2019s main body itself, the danger which he thus holds\nover the head of his opponent is his best means of covering himself.\n\n5. In conclusion, we must notice another great advantage which the\nassailant certainly has over the defender in wars of this kind, which\nis that of being better able to judge of the intentions and force of\nhis adversary than the latter can in turn of his. It is much more\ndifficult to discover in what degree an assailant is enterprising and\nbold than when the defender has something of consequence in his mind.\nPractically viewed, there usually lies already in the choice of the\ndefensive form of war a sort of guarantee that nothing positive is\nintended; besides this, the preparations for a great reaction differ\nmuch more from the ordinary preparations for defence than the\npreparations for a great attack differ from those directed against\nminor objects. Finally, the defender is obliged to take his measures\nsoonest of the two, which gives the assailant the advantage of playing\nthe last hand.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. Attack on Fortresses\n\nThe attack on fortresses cannot of course come before us here in its\naspect as a branch of the science of fortification or military works;\nwe have only to consider the subject, first, in its relation to the\nstrategic object with which it is connected; secondly, as regards the\nchoice among several fortresses; and thirdly, as regards the manner in\nwhich a siege should be covered.\n\nThat the loss of a fortress weakens the defence, especially in case it\nforms an essential part of that defence; that many conveniences accrue\nto the assailant by gaining possession of one, inasmuch as he can use\nit for magazines and dep\u00f4ts, and by means of it can cover districts of\ncountry cantonments, etc.; that if his offensive at last should have to\nbe changed into the defensive, it forms the very best support for that\ndefensive\u2014all these relations which fortresses bear to theatres of war,\nin the course of a war, make themselves sufficiently evident by what\nhas been said about fortresses in the book on the Defence, the\nreflection from which throws all the light required on these relations\nwith the attack.\n\nIn relation to the taking of strong places, there is also a great\ndifference between campaigns which tend to a great decision and others.\nIn the first, a conquest of this description is always to be regarded\nas an evil which is unavoidable. As long as there is yet a decision to\nbe made, we undertake no sieges but such as are positively unavoidable.\nWhen the decision has been already given\u2014the crisis, the utmost tension\nof forces, some time passed\u2014and when, therefore, a state of rest has\ncommenced, then the capture of strong places serves as a consolidation\nof the conquests made, and then they can generally be carried out, if\nnot without effort and expenditure of force, at least without danger.\nIn the crisis itself the siege of a fortress heightens the intensity of\nthe crisis to the prejudice of the offensive; it is evident that\nnothing so much weakens the force of the offensive, and therefore there\nis nothing so certain to rob it of its preponderance for a season. But\nthere are cases in which the capture of this or that fortress is quite\nunavoidable, if the offensive is to be continued, and in such case a\nsiege is to be considered as an intensified progress of the attack; the\ncrisis will be so much greater the less there has been decided\npreviously. All that remains now for consideration on this subject\nbelongs to the book on the plan of the war.\n\nIn campaigns with a limited object, a fortress is generally not the\nmeans but the end itself; it is regarded as a small independent\nconquest, and as such has the following advantages over every other:\u2014\n\n1. That a fortress is a small, distinctly-defined conquest, which does\nnot require a further expenditure of force, and therefore gives no\ncause to fear a reaction.\n\n2. That in negotiating for peace, its value as an equivalent may be\nturned to account.\n\n3. That a siege is a real progress of the attack, or at least seems so,\nwithout constantly diminishing the force like every other advance of\nthe offensive.\n\n4. That the siege is an enterprise without a catastrophe.\n\nThe result of these things is that the capture of one or more of the\nenemy\u2019s strong places, is very frequently the object of those strategic\nattacks which cannot aim at any higher object.\n\nThe grounds which decide the choice of the fortress which should be\nattacked, in case that may be doubtful, generally are\u2014\n\n(_a_) That it is one which can be easily kept, therefore stands high in\nvalue as an equivalent in case of negotiations for peace.\n\n(_b_) That the means of taking it are at hand. Small means are only\nsufficient to take small places; but it is better to take a small one\nthan to fail before a large one.\n\n(_c_) Its strength in engineering respects, which obviously is not\nalways in proportion to its importance in other respects. Nothing is\nmore absurd than to waste forces before a very strong place of little\nimportance, if a place of less strength may be made the object of\nattack.\n\n(_d_) The strength of the armament and of the garrison as well. If a\nfortress is weakly armed and insufficiently garrisoned, its capture\nmust naturally be easier; but here we must observe that the strength of\nthe garrison and armament, are to be reckoned amongst those things\nwhich make up the total importance of the place, because garrison and\narmaments are directly parts of the enemy\u2019s military strength, which\ncannot be said in the same measure of works of fortification. The\nconquest of a fortress with a strong garrison can, therefore, much more\nreadily repay the sacrifice it costs than one with very strong works.\n\n(_e_) The facility of moving the siege train. Most sieges fail for want\nof means, and the means are generally wanting from the difficulty\nattending their transport. Eugene\u2019s siege of Landreci, 1712, and\nFrederick the Great\u2019s siege of Olm\u00fctz, 1758, are very remarkable\ninstances in point.\n\n(_f_) Lastly, there remains the facility of covering the siege as a\npoint now to be considered.\n\nThere are two essentially different ways by which a siege may be\ncovered: by entrenching the besieging force, that is, by a line of\ncircumvallation, and by what is called lines of observation. The first\nof these methods has gone quite out of fashion, although evidently one\nimportant point speaks in its favour, namely, that by this method the\nforce of the assailant does not suffer by division exactly that\nweakening which is so generally found a great disadvantage at sieges.\nBut we grant there is still a weakening in another way, to a very\nconsiderable degree, because\u2014\n\n1. The position round the fortress, as a rule, is of too great extent\nfor the strength of the army.\n\n2. The garrison, the strength of which, added to that of the relieving\narmy, would only make up the force originally opposed to us, _under\nthese circumstances_ is to be looked upon as an enemy\u2019s corps in the\nmiddle of our camp, which, protected by its walls, is _invulnerable_,\nor at least not to be overpowered, by which its power is immensely\nincreased.\n\n3. The defence of a line of circumvallation admits of nothing but the\nmost absolute defensive, because the circular order, facing outwards,\nis the weakest and most disadvantageous of all possible orders of\nbattle, and is particularly unfavourable to any advantageous\ncounter-attacks. There is no alternative, in fact, but to defend\nourselves to the last extremity within the entrenchments. That these\ncircumstances may cause a greater diminution of the army than one-third\nwhich, perhaps, would be occasioned by forming an army of observation,\nis easy to conceive. If, added to that, we now think of the general\npreference which has existed since the time of Frederick the Great for\nthe offensive, as it is called, (but which, in reality, is not always\nso) for movements and man\u0153uvres, and the aversion to entrenchments, we\nshall not wonder at lines of circumvallation having gone quite out of\nfashion. But this weakening of the tactical resistance is by no means\nits only disadvantage; and we have only reckoned up the prejudices\nwhich forced themselves into the judgment on the lines of\ncircumvallation next in order after that disadvantage, because they are\nnearly akin to each other. A line of circumvallation only in reality\ncovers that portion of the theatre of war which it actually encloses;\nall the rest is more or less given up to the enemy if special\ndetachments are not made use of to cover it, in which way the very\npartition of force which it was intended to obviate takes place. Thus\nthe besieging army will be always in anxiety and embarrassment on\naccount of the convoys which it requires, and the covering the same by\nlines of circumvallation, is not to be thought of if the army and the\nsiege supplies required are considerable, and the enemy is in the field\nin strong force, unless under such conditions as are found in the\nNetherlands, where there is a whole system of fortresses lying close to\neach other, and intermediate lines connecting them, which cover the\nrest of the theatre of war, and considerably shorten the lines by which\ntransport can be affected. In the time of Louis the Fourteenth the\nconception of a theatre of war had not yet bound itself up with the\nposition of an army. In the Thirty Years\u2019 War particularly, the armies\nmoved here and there sporadically before this or that fortress, in the\nneighbourhood of which there was no enemy\u2019s corps at all, and besieged\nit as long as the siege equipment they had brought with them lasted,\nand until an enemy\u2019s army approached to relieve the place. Then lines\nof circumvallation had their foundation in the nature of circumstances.\n\nIn future it is not likely they will be often used again, unless where\nthe enemy in the field is very weak, or the conception of the theatre\nof war vanishes before that of the siege. Then it will be natural to\nkeep all the forces united in the siege, as a siege by that means\nunquestionably gains in energy in a high degree.\n\nThe lines of circumvallation in the reign of Louis XIV., at Cambray and\nValenciennes, were of little use, as the former were stormed by\nTurenne, opposed to Cond\u00e9, the latter by Cond\u00e9 opposed to Turenne; but\nwe must not overlook the endless number of other cases in which they\nwere respected, even when there existed in the place the most urgent\nneed for relief; and when the commander on the defensive side was a man\nof great enterprise, as in 1708, when Villars did not venture to attack\nthe allies in their lines at Lille. Frederick the Great at Olm\u00fctz,\n1758, and at Dresden, 1760, although he had no regular lines of\ncircumvallation, had a system which in all essentials was identical; he\nused the same army to carry on the siege, and also as a covering army.\nThe distance of the Austrian army induced him to adopt this plan at\nOlm\u00fctz, but the loss of his convoy at Domst\u00e4dtel made him repent it; at\nDresden in 1760 the motives which led him to this mode of proceeding,\nwere his contempt for the German States\u2019 imperial army, and his desire\nto take Dresden as soon as possible.\n\nLastly, it is a disadvantage in lines of circumvallation, that in case\nof a reverse it is more difficult to save the siege train. If a defeat\nis sustained at a distance of one or more days\u2019 march from the place\nbesieged, the siege may be raised before the enemy can arrive, and the\nheavy trains may, in the mean time, gain also a day\u2019s march.\n\nIn taking up a position for an army of observation, an important\nquestion to be considered is the distance at which it should be placed\nfrom the besieged place. This question will, in most cases, be decided\nby the nature of the country, or by the position of other armies or\ncorps with which the besiegers have to remain in communication. In\nother respects, it is easy to see that, with a greater distance, the\nsiege is better covered, but that by a smaller distance, not exceeding\na few miles, the two armies are better able to afford each other mutual\nsupport.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. Attack on Convoys\n\nThe attack and defence of a convoy form a subject of tactics: we\nshould, therefore, have nothing to say upon the subject here if it was\nnot necessary, first, to demonstrate generally, to a certain extent,\nthe possibility of the thing, which can only be done from strategic\nmotives and relations. We should have had to speak of it in this\nrespect before when treating of the defence, had it not been that the\nlittle which can be said about it can easily be framed to suit for both\nattack and defence, while at the same time the first plays the higher\npart in connection with it.\n\nA moderate convoy of three or four hundred wagons, let the load be what\nit may, takes up half a mile, a large convoy is several miles in\nlength. Now, how is it possible to expect that the few troops usually\nallotted to a convoy will suffice for its defence? If to this\ndifficulty we add the unwieldy nature of this mass, which can only\nadvance at the slowest pace, and which, besides, is always liable to be\nthrown into disorder, and lastly, that every part of a convoy must be\nequally protected, because the moment that one part is attacked by the\nenemy, the whole is brought to a stop, and thrown into a state of\nconfusion, we may well ask,\u2014how can the covering and defence of such a\ntrain be possible at all? Or, in other words, why are not all convoys\ntaken when they are attacked, and why are not all attacked which\nrequire an escort, or, which is the same thing, all that come within\nreach of the enemy? It is plain that all tactical expedients, such as\nTemplehof\u2019s most impracticable scheme of constantly halting and\nassembling the convoy at short distances, and then moving off afresh:\nand the much better plan of Scharnhorst, of breaking up the convoy into\nseveral columns, are only slight correctives of a radical evil.\n\nThe explanation consists in this, that by far the greater number of\nconvoys derive more security from the strategic situation in general,\nthan any other parts exposed to the attacks of the enemy, which bestows\non their limited means of defence a very much increased efficacy.\nConvoys generally move more or less in rear of their own army, or, at\nleast, at a great distance from that of the enemy. The consequence is,\nthat only weak detachments can be sent to attack them, and these are\nobliged to cover themselves by strong reserves. Added to this the\nunwieldiness itself of the carriages used, makes it very difficult to\ncarry them off; the assailant must therefore, in general, content\nhimself with cutting the traces, taking away the horses, and blowing up\npowder-wagons, by which the whole is certainly detained and thrown into\ndisorder, but not completely lost; by all this we may perceive, that\nthe security of such trains lies more in these general relations than\nin the defensive power of its escort. If now to all this we add the\ndefence of the escort, which, although it cannot by marching resolutely\nagainst the enemy directly cover the convoy, is still able to derange\nthe plan of the enemy\u2019s attack; then, at last, the attack of a convoy,\ninstead of appearing easy and sure of success, will appear rather\ndifficult, and very uncertain in its result.\n\nBut there remains still a chief point, which is the danger of the\nenemy\u2019s army, or one of its corps, retaliating on the assailants of its\nconvoy, and punishing it ultimately for the undertaking by defeating\nit. The apprehension of this, puts a stop to many undertakings, without\nthe real cause ever appearing; so that the safety of the convoy is\nattributed to the escort, and people wonder how a miserable\narrangement, such as an escort, should meet with such respect. In order\nto feel the truth of this observation, we have only to think of the\nfamous retreat which Frederick the Great made through Bohemia after the\nsiege of Olm\u00fctz, 1758, when the half of his army was broken into a\ncolumn of companies to cover a convoy of 4,000 carriages. What\nprevented Daun from falling on this monstrosity? The fear that\nFrederick would throw himself upon him with the other half of his army,\nand entangle him in a battle which Daun did not desire; what prevented\nLaudon, who was constantly at the side of that convoy, from falling\nupon it at Zischbowitz sooner and more boldly than he did? The fear\nthat he would get a rap over the knuckles. Ten miles from his main\narmy, and completely separated from it by the Prussian army, he thought\nhimself in danger of a serious defeat if the king, who had no reason at\nthat time to be concerned about Daun, should fall upon him with the\nbulk of his forces.\n\nIt is only if the strategic situation of an army involves it in the\nunnatural necessity of connecting itself with its convoys by the flank\nor by its front that then these convoys are really in great danger, and\nbecome an advantageous object of attack for the enemy, if his position\nallows him to detach troops for that purpose. The same campaign of 1758\naffords an instance of the most complete success of an undertaking of\nthis description, in the capture of the convoy at Domst\u00e4dtel. The road\nto Neiss lay on the left flank of the Prussian position, and the king\u2019s\nforces were so neutralised by the siege and by the corps watching Daun,\nthat the partizans had no reason to be uneasy about themselves, and\nwere able to make their attack completely at their ease.\n\nWhen Eugene besieged Landrecy in 1712, he drew his supplies for the\nsiege from Bouchain by Denain; therefore, in reality, from the front of\nthe strategic position. It is well known what means he was obliged to\nuse to overcome the difficulty of protecting his convoys on that\noccasion, and in what embarrassments he involved himself, ending in a\ncomplete change of circumstances.\n\nThe conclusion we draw, therefore, is that however easy an attack on a\nconvoy may appear in its tactical aspect, still it has not much in its\nfavour on strategic grounds, and only promises important results in the\nexceptional instances of lines of communication very much exposed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX. Attack on the Enemy\u2019s Army in its Cantonments\n\nWe have not treated of this subject in the defence, because a line of\ncantonments is not to be regarded as a defensive means, but as a mere\nexistence of the army in a state which implies little readiness for\nbattle. In respect to this readiness for battle, we therefore did not\ngo beyond what we required to say in connection with this condition of\nan army in the 13th chapter of the 5th book.\n\nBut here, in considering the attack, we have to think of an enemy\u2019s\narmy in cantonments in all respects as a special object; for, in the\nfirst place, such an attack is of a very peculiar kind in itself; and,\nin the next place, it may be considered as a strategic means of\nparticular efficacy. Here we have before us, therefore, not the\nquestion of an onslaught on a single cantonment or a small corps\ndispersed amongst a few villages, as the arrangements for that are\nentirely of a tactical nature, but of the attack of a large army,\ndistributed in cantonments more or less extensive; an attack in which\nthe object is not the mere surprise of a single cantonment, but to\nprevent the assembly of the army.\n\nThe attack on an enemy\u2019s army in cantonments is therefore the surprise\nof an army not assembled. If this surprise succeeds fully, then the\nenemy\u2019s army is prevented from reaching its appointed place of\nassembly, and, therefore, compelled to choose another more to the rear;\nas this change of the point of assembly to the rear in a state of such\nemergency can seldom be effected in less than a day\u2019s march, but\ngenerally will require several days, the loss of ground which this\noccasions is by no means an insignificant loss; and this is the first\nadvantage gained by the assailant.\n\nBut now, this surprise which is in connection with the general\nrelations, may certainly at the same time, in its commencement, be an\nonslaught on some of the enemy\u2019s single cantonments, not certainly upon\nall, or upon a great many, because that would suppose a scattering of\nthe attacking army to an extent which could never be advisable.\nTherefore, only the most advanced quarters, only those which lie in the\ndirection of the attacking columns, can be surprised, and even this\nwill seldom happen to many of them, as large forces cannot easily\napproach unobserved. However, this element of the attack is by no means\nto be disregarded; and we reckon the advantages which may be thus\nobtained, as the second advantage of the surprise.\n\nA third advantage consists in the minor combats forced upon the enemy\nin which his losses will be considerable. A great body of troops does\nnot assemble itself at once by single battalions at the spot appointed\nfor the general concentration of the army, but usually forms itself by\nbrigades, divisions, or corps, in the first place, and these masses\ncannot then hasten at full speed to the rendezvous; in case of meeting\nwith an enemy\u2019s column in their course, they are obliged to engage in a\ncombat; now, they may certainly come off victorious in the same,\nparticularly if the enemy\u2019s attacking column is not of sufficient\nstrength, but in conquering, they lose time, and, in most cases, as may\nbe easily conceived, a corps, under such circumstances, and in the\ngeneral tendency to gain a point which lies to the rear, will not make\nany beneficial use of its victory. On the other hand, they may be\nbeaten, and that is the most probable issue in itself, because they\nhave not time to organise a good resistance. We may, therefore, very\nwell suppose that in an attack well planned and executed, the assailant\nthrough these partial combats will gather up a considerable number of\ntrophies, which become a principal point in the general result.\n\nLastly, the fourth advantage, and the keystone of the whole, is a\ncertain momentary disorganisation and discouragement on the side of the\nenemy, which, when the force is at last assembled, seldom allows of its\nbeing immediately brought into action, and generally obliges the party\nattacked to abandon still more ground to his assailant, and to make a\nchange generally in his plan of operations.\n\nSuch are the proper results of a successful surprise of the enemy in\ncantonments, that is, of one in which the enemy is prevented from\nassembling his army without loss at the point fixed in his plan. But by\nthe nature of the case, success has many degrees; and, therefore, the\nresults may be very great in one case, and hardly worth mentioning in\nanother. But even when, through the complete success of the enterprise,\nthese results are considerable, they will seldom bear comparison with\nthe gain of a great battle, partly because, in the first place, the\ntrophies are seldom as great, and in the next, the moral impression\nnever strikes so deep.\n\nThis general result must always be kept in view, that we may not\npromise ourselves more from an enterprise of this kind than it can\ngive. Many hold it to be the _non plus ultra_ of offensive activity;\nbut it is not so by any means, as we may see from this analysis, as\nwell as from military history.\n\nOne of the most brilliant surprises in history, is that made by the\nDuke of Lorraine in 1643, on the cantonments of the French, under\nGeneral Ranzan, at Duttlingen. The corps was 16,000 men, and they lost\nthe General commanding, and 7,000 men; it was a complete defeat. The\nwant of outposts was the cause of the disaster.\n\nThe surprise of Turenne at Mergentheim (Mariendal, as the French call\nit,) in 1644, is in like manner to be regarded as equal to a defeat in\nits effects, for he lost 3,000 men out of 8,000, which was principally\nowing to his having been led into making an untimely stand after he got\nhis men assembled. Such results we cannot, therefore, often reckon\nupon; it was rather the result of an ill-judged action than of the\nsurprise, properly speaking, for Turenne might easily have avoided the\naction, and have rallied his troops upon those in more distant\nquarters.\n\nA third noted surprise is that which Turenne made on the Allies under\nthe great Elector, the Imperial General Bournonville and the Duke of\nLorraine, in Alsace, in the year 1674. The trophies were very small,\nthe loss of the Allies did not exceed 2,000 or 3,000 men, which could\nnot decide the fate of a force of 50,000; but the Allies considered\nthat they could not venture to make any further resistance in Alsace,\nand retired across the Rhine again. This strategic result was all that\nTurenne wanted, but we must not look for the causes of it entirely in\nthe surprise. Turenne surprised the plans of his opponents more than\nthe troops themselves; the want of unanimity amongst the allied\ngenerals and the proximity of the Rhine did the rest. This event\naltogether deserves a closer examination, as it is generally viewed in\na wrong light.\n\nIn 1741, Neipperg surprised Frederick the Great in his quarters; the\nwhole of the result was that the king was obliged to fight the battle\nof Mollwitz before he had collected all his forces, and with a change\nof front.\n\nIn 1745, Frederick the Great surprised the Duke of Lorraine in his\ncantonments in Lusatia; the chief success was through the real surprise\nof one of the most important quarters, that of Hennersdorf, by which\nthe Austrians suffered a loss of 2,000 men; the general result was that\nthe Duke of Lorraine retreated to Bohemia by Upper Lusatia, but that\ndid not at all prevent his returning into Saxony by the left bank of\nthe Elbe, so that without the battle of Kesselsdorf, there would have\nbeen no important result.\n\n1758. The Duke Ferdinand surprised the French quarters; the immediate\nresult was that the French lost some thousands of men, and were obliged\nto take up a position behind the Aller. The moral effect may have been\nof more importance, and may have had some influence on the subsequent\nevacuation of Westphalia.\n\nIf from these different examples we seek for a conclusion as to the\nefficacy of this kind of attack, then only the two first can be put in\ncomparison with a battle gained. But the corps were only small, and the\nwant of outposts in the system of war in those days was a circumstance\ngreatly in favour of these enterprises. Although the four other cases\nmust be reckoned completely successful enterprises, it is plain that\nnot one of them is to be compared with a battle gained as respects its\nresult. The general result could not have taken place in any of them\nexcept with an adversary weak in will and character, and therefore it\ndid not take place at all in the case of 1741.\n\nIn 1806 the Prussian army contemplated surprising the French in this\nmanner in Franconia. The case promised well for a satisfactory result.\nBuonaparte was not present, the French corps were in widely extended\ncantonments; under these circumstances, the Prussian army, acting with\ngreat resolution and activity, might very well reckon on driving the\nFrench back across the Rhine, with more or less loss. But this was also\nall; if they reckoned upon more, for instance, on following up their\nadvantages beyond the Rhine, or on gaining such a moral ascendancy,\nthat the French would not again venture to appear on the right bank of\nthe river in the same campaign, such an expectation had no sufficient\ngrounds whatever.\n\nIn the beginning of August, 1812, the Russians from Smolensk meditated\nfalling upon the cantonments of the French when Napoleon halted his\narmy in the neighbourhood of Witepsk. But they wanted courage to carry\nout the enterprise; and it was fortunate for them they did; for as the\nFrench commander with his centre was not only more than twice the\nstrength of their centre, but also in himself the most resolute\ncommander that ever lived, as further, the loss of a few miles of\nground would have decided nothing, and there was no natural obstacle in\nany feature of the country near enough up to which they might pursue\ntheir success, and by that means, in some measure make it certain, and\nlastly, as the war of the year 1812 was not in any way a campaign of\nthat kind, which draws itself in a languid way to a conclusion, but the\nserious plan of an assailant who had made up his mind to conquer his\nopponent completely,\u2014therefore the trifling results to be expected from\na surprise of the enemy in his quarters, appear nothing else than\nutterly disproportionate to the solution of the problem, they could not\njustify a hope of making good by their means the great inequality of\nforces and other relations. But this scheme serves to show how a\nconfused idea of the effect of this means may lead to an entirely false\napplication of the same.\n\nWhat has been hitherto said, places the subject in the light of a\n_strategic means_. But it lies in its nature that its execution also is\nnot purely tactical, but in part belongs again to strategy so far,\nparticularly that such an attack is generally made on a front of\nconsiderable width, and the army which carries it out can, and\ngenerally will, come to blows before it is concentrated, so that the\nwhole is an agglomeration of partial combats. We must now add a few\nwords on the most natural organisation of such an attack.\n\nThe first condition is:\u2014\n\n(1.) To attack the front of the enemy\u2019s quarters in a certain width of\nfront, for that is the only means by which we can really surprise\nseveral cantonments, cut off others, and create generally that\ndisorganisation in the enemy\u2019s army which is intended.\u2014The number of,\nand the intervals between, the columns must depend on circumstances.\n\n(2.) The direction of the different columns must converge upon a point\nwhere it is intended they should unite; for the enemy ends more or less\nwith a concentration of his force, and therefore we must do the same.\nThis point of concentration should, if possible, be the enemy\u2019s point\nof assembly, or lie on his line of retreat, it will naturally be best\nwhere that line crosses an important obstacle in the country.\n\n(3.) The separate columns when they come in contact with the enemy\u2019s\nforces must attack them with great determination, with dash and\nboldness, as they have general relations in their favour, and daring is\nalways there in its right place. From this it follows that the\ncommanders of the separate columns must be allowed freedom of action\nand full power in this respect.\n\n(4.) The tactical plan of attack against those of the enemy\u2019s corps\nthat are the first to place themselves in position, must always be\ndirected to turn a flank, for the greatest result is always to be\nexpected by separating the corps, and cutting them off.\n\n(5.) Each of the columns must be composed of portions of the three\narms, and must not be stinted in cavalry, it may even sometimes be well\nto divide amongst them the whole of the reserve cavalry; for it would\nbe a great mistake to suppose that this body of cavalry could play any\ngreat part in a mass in an enterprise of this sort. The first village,\nthe smallest bridge, the most insignificant thicket would bring it to a\nhalt.\n\n(6.) Although it lies in the nature of a surprise that the assailant\nshould not send his advanced guard very far in front, that principle\nonly applies to the first approach to the enemy\u2019s quarters. When the\nfight has commenced in the enemy\u2019s quarters, and therefore all that was\nto be expected from actual surprise has been gained, then the columns\nof the advanced guard of all arms should push on as far as possible,\nfor they may greatly increase the confusion on the side of the enemy by\nmore rapid movement. It is only by this means that it becomes possible\nto carry off here and there the mass of baggage, artillery,\nnon-effectives, and camp-followers, which have to be dragged after a\ncantonment suddenly broken up, and these advanced guards must also be\nthe chief instruments in turning and cutting off the enemy.\n\n(7.) Finally, the retreat in case of ill-success must be thought of,\nand a rallying point be fixed upon beforehand.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX. Diversion\n\nAccording to the ordinary use of language, under the term diversion is\nunderstood such an incursion into the enemy\u2019s country as draws off a\nportion of his force from the principal point. It is only when this is\nthe chief end in view, and not the gain of the object which is selected\nas the point of attack, that it is an enterprise of a special\ncharacter, otherwise it is only an ordinary attack.\n\nNaturally the diversion must at the same time always have an object of\nattack, for it is only the value of this object that will induce the\nenemy to send troops for its protection; besides, in case the\nundertaking does not succeed as a diversion, this object is a\ncompensation for the forces expended in the attempt.\n\nThese objects of attack may be fortresses, or important magazines, or\nrich and large towns, especially capital cities, contributions of all\nkinds; lastly, assistance may be afforded in this way to discontented\nsubjects of the enemy.\n\nIt is easy to conceive that diversions may be useful, but they\ncertainly are not so always; on the contrary, they are just as often\ninjurious. The chief condition is that they should withdraw from the\nprincipal theatre of the war more of the enemy\u2019s troops than we employ\non the diversion; for if they only succeed in drawing off just the same\nnumber, then their efficacy as diversions, properly called, ceases, and\nthe undertaking becomes a mere subordinate attack. Even where, on\naccount of circumstances, we have in view to attain a very great end\nwith a very small force, as, for instance, to make an easy capture of\nan important fortress, and another attack is made adjoining to the\nprincipal attack, to assist the latter, that is no longer a diversion.\nWhen two states are at war, and a third falls upon one of them, such an\nevent is very commonly called a diversion\u2014but such an attack differs in\nnothing from an ordinary attack except in its direction; there is,\ntherefore, no occasion to give it a particular name, for in theory it\nshould be a rule only to denote by particular names such things as are\nin their nature distinct.\n\nBut if small forces are to attract large ones, there must obviously be\nsome special cause, and, therefore, for the object of a diversion it is\nnot sufficient merely to detach some troops to a point not hitherto\noccupied.\n\nIf the assailant with a small corps of 1000 men overruns one of his\nenemy\u2019s provinces, not belonging to the theatre of war, and levies\ncontribution, etc., it is easy to see beforehand that the enemy cannot\nput a stop to this by detaching 1000 men, but that if he means to\nprotect the province from invaders, he must at all events send a\nconsiderably larger force. But it may be asked cannot a defender,\ninstead of protecting his own province, restore the balance by sending\na similar detachment to plunder a province in our country? Therefore,\nif an advantage is to be obtained by an aggressor in this way, it must\nfirst be ascertained that there is more to be got or to be threatened\nin the defender\u2019s provinces than in his own. If this is the case, then\nno doubt a weak diversion will occupy a force on the enemy\u2019s side\ngreater than that composing the enterprise. On the other hand, this\nadvantage naturally diminishes as the masses increase, for 50,000 men\ncan defend a province of moderate extent not only against equal but\neven against somewhat superior numbers. The advantage of large\ndiversions is, therefore, very doubtful, and the greater they become\nthe more decisive must be the other circumstances which favour a\ndiversion if any good is to come out of such an enterprise upon the\nwhole.\n\nNow these favourable circumstances may be:\u2014\n\n_a._ Forces which the assailant holds available for a diversion without\nweakening the great mass of his force.\n\n_b._ Points belonging to the defender which are of vital importance to\nhim and can be threatened by a diversion.\n\n_c._ Discontented subjects of the same.\n\n_d._ A rich province which can supply a considerable quantity of\nmunitions of war.\n\nIf only these diversions are undertaken, which, when tested by these\ndifferent considerations, promise results, it will be found that an\nopportunity of making a diversion does not offer frequently.\n\nBut now comes another important point. Every diversion brings war into\na district into which the war would not otherwise have penetrated: for\nthat reason it will always be the means, more or less, of calling forth\nmilitary forces which would otherwise have continued in abeyance, this\nwill be done in a way which will be very sensibly felt if the enemy has\nany organised militia, and means of arming the nation at large. It is\nquite in the natural order of things, and amply shown by experience,\nthat if a district is suddenly threatened by an enemy\u2019s force, and\nnothing has been prepared beforehand for its defence, all the most\nefficient official functionaries immediately lay hold of and set in\nmotion every extraordinary means that can be imagined, in order to ward\noff the impending danger. Thus, new powers of resistance spring up,\nsuch as are next to a people\u2019s war, and may easily excite one.\n\nThis is a point which should be kept well in view in every diversion,\nin order that we may not dig our own graves.\n\nThe expeditions to North Holland in 1799, and to Walcheren in 1809,\nregarded as diversions, are only to be justified in so far that there\nwas no other way of employing the English troops; but there is no doubt\nthat the sum total of the means of resistance of the French was thereby\nincreased, and every landing in France, would have just the same\neffect. To threaten the French coast certainly offers great advantages,\nbecause by that means an important body of troops becomes neutralised\nin watching the coast, but a landing with a large force can never be\njustifiable unless we can count on the assistance of a province in\nopposition to the Government.\n\nThe less a great decision is looked forward to in war the more will\ndiversions be allowable, but so much the smaller will also certainly be\nthe gain to be derived from them. They are only a means of bringing the\nstagnant masses into motion.\n\n_Execution._\n\n\n1. A diversion may include in itself a real attack, then the execution\nhas no special character in itself except boldness and expedition.\n\n2. It may also have as an object to appear more than it really is,\nbeing, in fact, a demonstration as well. The special means to be\nemployed in such a case can only suggest themselves to a subtil mind\nwell versed in men and in the existing state of circumstances. It\nfollows from the nature of the thing that there must be a great\nfractioning of forces on such occasions.\n\n3. If the forces employed are not quite inconsiderable, and the retreat\nis restricted to certain points, then a reserve on which the whole may\nrally is an essential condition.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI. Invasion\n\nAlmost all that we have to say on this subject consists in an\nexplanation of the term. We find the expression very frequently used by\nmodern authors and also that they pretend to denote by it something\nparticular. _Guerre d\u2019invasion_ occurs perpetually in French authors.\nThey use it as a term for every attack which enters deep into the\nenemy\u2019s country, and perhaps sometimes mean to apply it as the\nantithesis to methodical attack, that is, one which only nibbles at the\nfrontier. But this is a very unphilosophical confusion of language.\nWhether an attack is to be confined to the frontier or to be carried\ninto the heart of the country, whether it shall make the seizure of the\nenemy\u2019s strong places the chief object, or seek out the core of the\nenemy\u2019s power, and pursue it unremittingly, is the result of\ncircumstances, and not dependent on a system. In some cases, to push\nforward may be more methodical, and at the same time more prudent than\nto tarry on the frontier, but in most cases it is nothing else than\njust the fortunate result of a vigorous _attack_, and consequently does\nnot differ from it in any respect.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII. On the Culminating Point of Victory(*)\n\n(*) See Chapters IV. and V.\n\n\nThe conqueror in a war is not always in a condition to subdue his\nadversary completely. Often, in fact, almost universally, there is a\nculminating point of victory. Experience shows this sufficiently; but\nas the subject is one especially important for the theory of war, and\nthe pivot of almost all plans of campaigns, while, at the same time, on\nits surface some apparent contradictions glitter, as in ever-changing\ncolours, we therefore wish to examine it more closely, and look for its\nessential causes.\n\nVictory, as a rule, springs from a preponderance of the sum of all the\nphysical and moral powers combined; undoubtedly it increases this\npreponderance, or it would not be sought for and purchased at a great\nsacrifice. Victory _itself_ does this unquestionably; also its\nconsequences have the same effect, but not to the utmost point\ngenerally only up to a certain point. This point may be very near at\nhand, and is sometimes so near that the whole of the results of a\nvictorious battle are confined to an increase of the moral superiority.\nHow this comes about we have now to examine.\n\nIn the progress of action in war, the combatant force is incessantly\nmeeting with elements which strengthen it, and others which weaken it.\nHence it is a question of superiority on one side or the other. As\nevery diminution of power on one side is to be regarded as an increase\non the opposite, it follows, of course, that this double current, this\nebb and flow, takes place whether troops are advancing or retiring.\n\nIt is therefore necessary to find out the principal cause of this\nalteration in the one case to determine the other along with it.\n\nIn advancing, the most important causes of the _increase of strength_\nwhich the assailant gains, are:\n\n1. The loss which the enemy\u2019s army suffers, because it is usually\ngreater than that of the assailant.\n\n2. The loss which the enemy suffers in inert military means, such as\nmagazines, dep\u00f4ts, bridges, etc., and which the assailant does not\nshare with him.\n\n3. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy\u2019s territory,\nthere is a loss of provinces to the defence, consequently of the\nsources of new military forces.\n\n4. That the advancing army gains a portion of those resources, in other\nwords, gains the advantage of living at the expense of the enemy.\n\n5. The loss of internal organisation and of the regular action of\neverything on the side of the enemy.\n\n6. That the allies of the enemy secede from him, and others join the\nconqueror.\n\n7. Lastly, the discouragement of the enemy who lets the arms, in some\nmeasure, drop out of his hands.\n\nThe causes of _decrease of strength_ in an army advancing, are:\n\n1. That it is compelled to lay siege to the enemy\u2019s fortresses, to\nblockade them or observe them; or that the enemy, who did the same\nbefore the victory, in his retreat draws in these corps on his main\nbody.\n\n2. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy\u2019s territory, the\nnature of the theatre of war is changed; it becomes hostile; we must\noccupy it, for we cannot call any portion our own beyond what is in\nactual occupation, and yet it everywhere presents difficulties to the\nwhole machine, which must necessarily tend to weaken its effects.\n\n3. That we are removing further away from our resources, whilst the\nenemy is drawing nearer to his; this causes a delay in the replacement\nof expended power.\n\n4. That the danger which threatens the state, rouses other powers to\nits protection.\n\n5. Lastly, the greater efforts of the adversary, in consequence of the\nincreased danger, on the other hand, a relaxation of effort on the side\nof the victorious state.\n\nAll these advantages and disadvantages can exist together, meet each\nother in a certain measure, and pursue their way in opposite\ndirections, except that the last meet as real opposites, cannot pass,\ntherefore mutually exclude each other. This alone shows how infinitely\ndifferent may be the effect of a victory according as it stuns the\nvanquished or stimulates him to greater exertions.\n\nWe shall now try to characterise, in a few words, each of these points\nsingly.\n\n1. The loss of the enemy when defeated, may be at the greatest in the\nfirst moment of defeat, and then daily diminish in amount until it\narrives at a point where the balance is restored as regards our force;\nbut it may go on increasing every day in an ascending ratio. The\ndifference of situation and relations determines this. We can only say\nthat, in general, with a good army the first will be the case, with an\nindifferent army the second; next to the spirit of the army, the spirit\nof the Government is here the most important thing. It is of great\nconsequence in war to distinguish between the two cases in practice, in\norder not to stop just at the point where we ought to begin in good\nearnest, and _vice vers\u00e2_.\n\n2. The loss which the enemy sustains in that part of the apparatus of\nwar which is inert, may ebb and flow just in the same manner, and this\nwill depend on the accidental position and nature of the dep\u00f4ts from\nwhich supplies are drawn. This subject, however, in the present day,\ncannot be compared with the others in point of importance.\n\n3. The third advantage must necessarily increase as the army advances;\nindeed, it may be said that it does not come into consideration until\nan army has penetrated far into the enemy\u2019s country; that is to say,\nuntil a third or a fourth of the country has been left in rear. In\naddition, the intrinsic value which a province has in connection with\nthe war comes also into consideration.\n\nIn the same way the fourth advantage should increase with the advance.\n\nBut with respect to these two last, it is also to be observed that\ntheir influence on the combatant powers actually engaged in the\nstruggle, is seldom felt so immediately; they only work slowly and by a\ncircuitous course; therefore we should not bend the bow too much on\ntheir account, that is to say, not place ourselves in any dangerous\nposition.\n\nThe fifth advantage, again, only comes into consideration if we have\nmade a considerable advance, and if by the form of the enemy\u2019s country\nsome provinces can be detached from the principal mass, as these, like\nlimbs compressed by ligatures, usually soon die off.\n\nAs to six and seven, it is at least probable that they increase with\nthe advance; furthermore, we shall return to them hereafter. Let us now\npass on to the causes of weakness.\n\n1. The besieging, blockade, and investment of fortresses, generally\nincrease as the army advances. This weakening influence alone acts so\npowerfully on the _condition of the combatant force_, that it may soon\noutweigh all the advantages gained. No doubt, in modern times, a system\nhas been introduced of blockading places with a small number of troops,\nor of watching them with a still smaller number; and also the enemy\nmust keep garrisons in them. Nevertheless, they remain a great element\nof security. The garrisons consist very often in half of people, who\nhave taken no part in the war previously. Before those places which are\nsituated near the line of communication, it is necessary for the\nassailant to leave a force at least double the strength of the\ngarrison; and if it is desirable to lay formal siege to, or to starve\nout, one single considerable place, a small army is required for the\npurpose.\n\n2. The second cause, the taking up a theatre of war in the enemy\u2019s\ncountry, increases necessarily with the advance, and if it does not\nfurther weaken the condition of the combatant force at the moment, it\ndoes so at all events in the long run.\n\nWe can only regard as our theatre of war, so much of the enemy\u2019s\ncountry as we actually possess; that is to say, where we either have\nsmall corps in the field, or where we have left here and there strong\ngarrisons in large towns, or stations along the roads, etc.; now,\nhowever small the garrisons may be which are detached, still they\nweaken the combatant force considerably. But this is the smallest evil.\n\nEvery army has strategic flanks, that is, the country which borders\nboth sides of its lines of communications; the weakness of these parts\nis not sensibly felt as long as the enemy is similarly situated with\nrespect to his. But that can only be the case as long as we are in our\nown country; as soon as we get into the enemy\u2019s country, the weakness\nof these parts is felt very much, because the smallest enterprise\npromises some result when directed against a long line only feebly, or\nnot all, covered; and these attacks may be made from any quarter in an\nenemy\u2019s country.\n\nThe further we advance, the longer these flanks become, and the danger\narising from them is enhanced in an increased ratio, for not only are\nthey difficult to cover, but the spirit of enterprise is also first\nroused in the enemy, chiefly by long insecure lines of communication,\nand the consequences which their loss may entail in case of a retreat\nare matter of grave consideration.\n\nAll this contributes to place a fresh load on an advancing army at\nevery step of its progress; so that if it has not commenced with a more\nthan ordinary superiority, it will feel itself always more and more\ncramped in its plans, gradually weakened in its impulsive force, and at\nlast in a state of uncertainty and anxiety as to its situation.\n\n3. The third cause, the distance from the source from which the\nincessantly diminishing combatant force is to be just as incessantly\nfilled up, increases with the advance. A conquering army is like the\nlight of a lamp in this respect; the more the oil which feeds it sinks\nin the reservoir and recedes from the focus of light, the smaller the\nlight becomes, until at length it is quite extinguished.\n\nThe richness of the conquered provinces may certainly diminish this\nevil very much, but can never entirely remove it, because there are\nalways a number of things which can only be supplied to the army from\nits own country, men in particular; because the subsidies furnished by\nthe enemy's country are, in most cases, neither so promptly nor so\nsurely forthcoming as in our own country; because the means of meeting\nany unexpected requirement cannot be so quickly procured; because\nmisunderstandings and mistakes of all kinds cannot so soon be\ndiscovered and remedied.\n\nIf a prince does not lead his army in person, as became the custom in\nthe last wars, if he is not anywhere near it, then another and very\ngreat inconvenience arises in the loss of time occasioned by\ncommunications backwards and forwards; for the fullest powers conferred\non a commander of an army, are never sufficient to meet every case in\nthe wide expanse of his activity.\n\n4. The change in political alliances. If these changes, produced by a\nvictory, should be such as are disadvantageous to the conqueror, they\nwill probably be so in a direct relation to his progress, just as is\nthe case if they are of an advantageous nature. This all depends on the\nexisting political alliances, interests, customs, and tendencies, on\nprinces, ministers, etc. In general, we can only say that when a great\nstate which has smaller allies is conquered, these usually secede very\nsoon from their alliance, so that the victor, in this respect, with\nevery blow becomes stronger; but if the conquered state is small,\nprotectors much sooner present themselves when his very existence is\nthreatened, and others, who have helped to place him in his present\nembarrassment, will turn round to prevent his complete downfall.\n\n5. The increased resistance on the part of the enemy which is called\nforth. Sometimes the enemy drops his weapon out of his hands from\nterror and stupefaction; sometimes an enthusiastic paroxysm seizes him,\nevery one runs to arms, and the resistance is much stronger after the\nfirst defeat than it was before. The character of the people and of the\nGovernment, the nature of the country and its political alliances, are\nhere the data from which the probable effect must be conjectured.\n\nWhat countless differences these two last points alone make in the\nplans which may and should be made in war in one case and another?\nWhilst one, through an excess of caution, and what is called methodical\nproceedings, fritters away his good fortune, another, from a want of\nrational reflection, tumbles into destruction.\n\nIn addition, we must here call to mind the supineness, which not\nunfrequently comes over the victorious side, when danger is removed;\nwhilst, on the contrary, renewed efforts are then required in order to\nfollow up the success. If we cast a general glance over these different\nand antagonistic principles, the deduction, doubtless is, that the\nprofitable use of the onward march in a war of aggression, in the\ngenerality of cases, diminishes the preponderance with which the\nassailant set out, or which has been gained by victory.\n\nHere the question must naturally strike us; if this be so, what is it\nwhich impels the conqueror to follow up the career of victory to\ncontinue the offensive? And can this really be called making further\nuse of the victory? Would it not be better to stop where as yet there\nis hardly any diminution of the preponderance gained?\n\nTo this we must naturally answer: the preponderance of combatant forces\nis only the means, not the end. The end or object is to subdue the\nenemy, or at least to take from him part of his territory, in order\nthus to put ourselves in a condition to realize the value of the\nadvantages we have gained when we conclude a peace. Even if our aim is\nto conquer the enemy completely, we must be content that, perhaps,\nevery step we advance, reduces our preponderance, but it does not\nnecessarily follow from this that it will be nil before the fall of the\nenemy: the fall of the enemy may take place before that, and if it is\nto be obtained by the last minimum of preponderance, it would be an\nerror not to expend it for that purpose.\n\nThe preponderance which we have or acquire in war is, therefore, the\nmeans, not the end, and it must be staked to gain the latter. But it is\nnecessary to know how far it will reach, in order not to go beyond that\npoint, and instead of fresh advantages, to reap disaster.\n\nIt is not necessary to introduce special examples from experience in\norder to prove that this is the way in which the strategic\npreponderance exhausts itself in the strategic attack; it is rather the\nmultitude of instances which has forced us to investigate the causes of\nit. It is only since the appearance of Buonaparte that we have known\ncampaigns between civilized nations, in which the preponderance has\nled, without interruption, to the fall of the enemy; before his time,\nevery campaign ended with the victorious army seeking to win a point\nwhere it could simply maintain itself in a state of equilibrium. At\nthis point, the movement of victory stopped, even if a retreat did not\nbecome necessary. Now, this culminating point of victory will also\nappear in the future, in all wars in which the overthrow of the enemy\nis not the military object of the war; and the generality of wars will\nstill be of this kind. The natural aim of all single plans of campaigns\nis the point at which the offensive changes into the defensive.\n\nBut now, to overstep this point, is more than simply a _useless_\nexpenditure of power, yielding no further result, it is a _destructive_\nstep which causes reaction; and this re-action is, according to all\ngeneral experience, productive of most disproportionate effects. This\nlast fact is so common, and appears so natural and easy to understand\nthat we need not enter circumstantially into the causes. Want of\norganisation in the conquered land, and the very opposite effect which\na serious loss instead of the looked-for fresh victory makes on the\nfeelings, are the chief causes in every case. The moral forces, courage\non the one side rising often to _audacity_, and extreme depression on\nthe other, now begin generally their active play. The losses on the\nretreat are increased thereby, and the hitherto successful party now\ngenerally thanks providence if he can escape with only the surrender of\nall his gains, without losing some of his own territory.\n\nWe must now clear up an apparent contradiction.\n\nIt may be generally supposed that as long as progress in the attack\ncontinues, there must still be a preponderance; and, that as the\ndefensive, which will commence at the end of the victorious career, is\na stronger form of war than the offensive, therefore, there is so much\nthe less danger of becoming unexpectedly the weaker party. But yet\nthere is, and keeping history in view, we must admit that the greatest\ndanger of a reverse is often just at the moment when the offensive\nceases and passes into the defensive. We shall try to find the cause of\nthis.\n\nThe superiority which we have attributed to the defensive form of war\nconsists:\n\n1. In the use of ground.\n\n2. In the possession of a prepared theatre of war.\n\n3. In the support of the people.\n\n4. In the advantage of the state of expectancy.\n\nIt must be evident that these principles cannot always be forthcoming\nand active in a like degree; that, consequently, one defence is not\nalways like another; and therefore, also, that the defence will not\nalways have this same superiority over the offensive. This must be\nparticularly the case in a defensive, which commences after the\nexhaustion of an offensive, and has its theatre of war usually situated\nat the apex of an offensive triangle thrust far forward into the\ncountry. Of the four principles above named, this defensive only enjoys\nthe first the use of the ground undiminished, the second generally\nvanishes altogether, the third becomes negative, and the fourth is very\nmuch reduced. A few more words, only by way of explanation, respecting\nthe last.\n\nIf the imagined equilibrium, under the influence of which whole\ncampaigns have often passed without any results, because the side which\nshould assume the initiative is wanting in the necessary resolution,\nand just therein lies, as we conceive, the advantage of the state of\nexpectancy if this equilibrium is disturbed by an offensive act, the\nenemy\u2019s interests damaged, and his will stirred up to action, then the\nprobability of his remaining in a state of indolent irresolution is\nmuch diminished. A defence, which is organised on conquered territory,\nhas a much more irritating character than one upon our own soil; the\noffensive principle is engrafted on it in a certain measure, and its\nnature is thereby weakened. The quiet which Daun allowed Frederick II.\nin Silesia and Saxony, he would never have granted him in Bohemia.\n\nThus it is clear that the defensive, which is interwoven or mixed up\nwith an offensive undertaking, is weakened in all its chief principles;\nand, therefore, will no longer have the preponderance which belongs to\nit originally.\n\nAs no defensive campaign is composed of purely defensive elements, so\nlikewise no offensive campaign is made up entirely of offensive\nelements; because, besides the short intervals in every campaign, in\nwhich both armies are on the defensive, every attack which does not\nlead to a peace, must necessarily end in a defensive.\n\nIn this manner it is the defensive itself which contributes to the\nweakening of the offensive. This is so far from being an idle subtlety,\nthat on the contrary, we consider it a chief disadvantage of the attack\nthat we are afterwards reduced through it to a very disadvantageous\ndefensive.\n\nAnd this explains how the difference which originally exists between\nthe strength of the offensive and defensive forms in war is gradually\nreduced. We shall now show how it may completely disappear, and the\nadvantage for a short time may change into the reverse.\n\nIf we may be allowed to make use of an idea from nature, we shall be\nable sooner to explain ourselves. It is the time which every force in\nthe material world requires to show its effect. A power, which if\napplied slowly by degrees, would be sufficient to check a body in\nmotion, will be overcome by it if time fails. This law of the material\nworld is a striking illustration of many of the phenomena in our inner\nlife. If we are once roused to a certain train of thought, it is not\nevery motive sufficient in itself which can change or stop that current\nof thought. Time, tranquillity and durable impressions on our senses\nare required. So it is also in war. When once the mind has taken a\ndecided direction towards an object, or turned back towards a harbour\nof refuge, it may easily happen that the motives which in the one base\nnaturally serve to restrain, and those which in the other as naturally\nexcite to enterprise, are not felt at once in their full force; and as\nthe progress of action in the mean time continues, one is carried along\nby the stream of movement beyond the line of equilibrium, beyond the\nculminating point, without being aware of it. Indeed, it may even\nhappen that, in spite of the exhaustion of force, the assailant,\nsupported by the moral forces which specially lie in the offensive,\nlike a horse drawing a load uphill, finds it less difficult to advance\nthan to stop. By this, we believe, we have now shown, without\ncontradiction in itself, how the assailant may pass that point, where,\nif he had stopped at the right moment, he might still, through the\ndefensive, have had a result, that is equilibrium. Rightly to determine\nthis point is, therefore, important in framing a plan of a campaign, as\nwell for the offensive, that he may not undertake what is beyond his\npowers (to a certain extent contract debts), as for the defensive, that\nhe may perceive and profit by this error if committed by the assailant.\n\nIf now we look back at all the points which the commander should bear\nin mind in making his determination, and remember that he can only\nestimate the tendency and value of the most important of them through\nthe consideration of many other near and distant relations, that he\nmust to a certain extent _guess_ at them guess whether the enemy\u2019s\narmy, after the first blow, will show a stronger core and increasing\nsolidity, or like a Bologna phial, will turn into dust as soon as the\nsurface is injured; guess the extent of weakness and prostration which\nthe drying up of certain sources, the interruption of certain\ncommunications will produce on the military state of the enemy; guess\nwhether the enemy, from the burning pain of the blow which has been\ndealt him, will collapse powerless, or whether, like a wounded bull, he\nwill rise to a state of fury; lastly, guess whether other powers will\nbe dismayed or roused, what political alliances are likely to be\ndissolved, and what are likely to be formed. When we say that he must\nhit all this, and much more, with the tact of his judgment, as the\nrifleman hits a mark, it must be admitted that such an act of the human\nmind is no trifle. A thousand wrong roads running here and there,\npresent themselves to the judgment; and whatever the number, the\nconfusion and complexity of objects leaves undone, is completed by the\nsense of danger and responsibility.\n\nThus it happens that the majority of generals prefer to fall short of\nthe mark rather than to approach too close; and thus it happens that a\nfine courage and great spirit of enterprise often go beyond the point,\nand therefore also fail to hit the mark. Only he that does great things\nwith small means has made a successful hit.\n\n\n\nSKETCHES FOR BOOK VIII PLAN OF WAR\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. Introduction\n\nIn the chapter on the essence and object of war, we sketched, in a\ncertain measure, its general conception, and pointed out its relations\nto surrounding circumstances, in order to commence with a sound\nfundamental idea. We there cast a glance at the manifold difficulties\nwhich the mind encounters in the consideration of this subject, whilst\nwe postponed the closer examination of them, and stopped at the\nconclusion, that the overthrow of the enemy, consequently the\ndestruction of his combatant force, is the chief object of the whole of\nthe action of war. This put us in a position to show in the following\nchapter, that the means which the act of war employs is the combat\nalone. In this manner, we think, we have obtained at the outset a\ncorrect point of view.\n\nHaving now gone through singly all the principal relations and forms\nwhich appear in military action, but are extraneous to, or outside of,\nthe combat, in order that we might fix more distinctly their value,\npartly through the nature of the thing, partly from the lessons of\nexperience which military history affords, purify them from, and root\nout, those vague ambiguous ideas which are generally mixed up with\nthem, and also to put prominently forward the real object of the act of\nwar, the destruction of the enemy\u2019s combatant force as the primary\nobject universally belonging to it; we now return to War as a whole, as\nwe propose to speak of the Plan of War, and of campaigns; and that\nobliges us to revert to the ideas in our first book\n\nIn these chapters, which are to deal with the whole question, is\ncontained strategy, properly speaking, in its most comprehensive and\nimportant features. We enter this innermost part of its domain, where\nall other threads meet, not without a degree of diffidence, which,\nindeed, is amply justified\n\nIf, on the one hand, we see how extremely simple the operations of war\nappear; if we hear and read how the greatest generals speak of it, just\nin the plainest and briefest manner, how the government and management\nof this ponderous machine, with its hundred thousand limbs, is made no\nmore of in their lips than if they were only speaking of their own\npersons, so that the whole tremendous act of war is individualised into\na kind of duel; if we find the motives also of their action brought\ninto connection sometimes with a few simple ideas, sometimes with some\nexcitement of feeling; if we see the easy, sure, we might almost say\nlight manner, in which they treat the subject and now see, on the other\nhand, the immense number of circumstances which present themselves for\nthe consideration of the mind; the long, often indefinite, distances to\nwhich the threads of the subject run out, and the number of\ncombinations which lie before us; if we reflect that it is the duty of\ntheory to embrace all this systematically, that is with clearness and\nfullness, and always to refer the action to the necessity of a\nsufficient cause, then comes upon us an overpowering dread of being\ndragged down to a pedantic dogmatism, to crawl about in the lower\nregions of heavy abstruse conceptions, where we shall never meet any\ngreat captain, with his natural coup d\u2019\u0153il. If the result of an attempt\nat theory is to be of this kind, it would have been as well, or rather,\nit would have been better, not to have made the attempt; it could only\nbring down on theory the contempt of genius, and the attempt itself\nwould soon be forgotten. And on the other hand, this facile coup d\u2019\u0153il\nof the general, this simple art of forming notions, this\npersonification of the whole action of war, is so entirely and\ncompletely the soul of the right method of conducting war, that in no\nother but this broad way is it possible to conceive that freedom of the\nmind which is indispensable if it is to dominate events, not to be\noverpowered by them\n\nWith some fear we proceed again; we can only do so by pursuing the way\nwhich we have prescribed for ourselves from the first. Theory ought to\nthrow a clear light on the mass of objects, that the mind may the\neasier find its bearings; theory ought to pull up the weeds which error\nhas sown broadcast; it should show the relations of things to each\nother, separate the important from the trifling. Where ideas resolve\nthemselves spontaneously into such a core of Truth as is called\nPrinciple, when they of themselves keep such a line as forms a rule,\nTheory should indicate the same\n\nWhatever the mind seizes, the rays of light which are awakened in it by\nthis exploration amongst the fundamental notions of things, _that is\nthe assistance which Theory affords the mind_. Theory can give no\nformulas with which to solve problems; it cannot confine the mind\u2019s\ncourse to the narrow line of necessity by Principles set up on both\nsides. It lets the mind take a look at the mass of objects and their\nrelations, and then allows it to go free to the higher regions of\naction, there to act according to the measure of its natural forces,\nwith the energy of the whole of those forces combined, and to grasp the\nTrue and the Right, as one single clear idea, which shooting forth from\nunder the united pressure of all these forces, would seem to be rather\na product of feeling than of reflection.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. Absolute and Real War\n\nThe Plan of the War comprehends the whole Military Act; through it that\nAct becomes a whole, which must have one final determinate object, in\nwhich all particular objects must become absorbed. No war is commenced,\nor, at least, no war should be commenced, if people acted wisely,\nwithout saying to themselves, What is to be attained by and in the\nsame; the first is the final object; the other is the intermediate aim.\nBy this chief consideration the whole course of the war is prescribed,\nthe extent of the means and the measure of energy are determined; its\ninfluence manifests itself down to the smallest organ of action.\n\nWe said, in the first chapter, that the overthrow of the enemy is the\nnatural end of the act of War; and that if we would keep within the\nstrictly philosophical limits of the idea, there can be no other in\nreality.\n\nAs this idea must apply to both the belligerent parties, it must\nfollow, that there can be no suspension in the Military Act, and peace\ncannot take place until one or other of the parties concerned is\noverthrown.\n\nIn the chapter on the suspension of the Belligerent Act, we have shown\nhow the simple principle of hostility applied to its embodiment, man,\nand all circumstances out of which it makes a war, is subject to checks\nand modifications from causes which are inherent in the apparatus of\nwar.\n\nBut this modification is not nearly sufficient to carry us from the\noriginal conception of War to the concrete form in which it almost\neverywhere appears. Most wars appear only as an angry feeling on both\nsides, under the influence of which, each side takes up arms to protect\nhimself, and to put his adversary in fear, and\u2014when opportunity offers,\nto strike a blow. They are, therefore, not like mutually destructive\nelements brought into collision, but like tensions of two elements\nstill apart which discharge themselves in small partial shocks.\n\nBut what is now the non-conducting medium which hinders the complete\ndischarge? Why is the philosophical conception not satisfied? That\nmedium consists in the number of interests, forces, and circumstances\nof various kinds, in the existence of the State, which are affected by\nthe war, and through the infinite ramifications of which the logical\nconsequence cannot be carried out as it would on the simple threads of\na few conclusions; in this labyrinth it sticks fast, and man, who in\ngreat things as well as in small, usually acts more on the impulse of\nideas and feelings, than according to strictly logical conclusions, is\nhardly conscious of his confusion, unsteadiness of purpose, and\ninconsistency.\n\nBut if the intelligence by which the war is decreed, could even go over\nall these things relating to the war, without for a moment losing sight\nof its aim, still all the other intelligences in the State which are\nconcerned may not be able to do the same; thus an opposition arises,\nand with that comes the necessity for a force capable of overcoming the\ninertia of the whole mass\u2014a force which is seldom forthcoming to the\nfull.\n\nThis inconsistency takes place on one or other of the two sides, or it\nmay be on both sides, and becomes the cause of the war being something\nquite different to what it should be, according to the conception of\nit\u2014a half and half production, a thing without a perfect inner\ncohesion.\n\nThis is how we find it almost everywhere, and we might doubt whether\nour notion of its absolute character or nature was founded in reality,\nif we had not seen real warfare make its appearence in this absolute\ncompleteness just in our own times. After a short introduction\nperformed by the French Revolution, the impetuous Buonaparte quickly\nbrought it to this point Under him it was carried on without slackening\nfor a moment until the enemy was prostrated, and the counter stroke\nfollowed almost with as little remission. Is it not natural and\nnecessary that this phenomenon should lead us back to the original\nconception of war with all its rigorous deductions?\n\nShall we now rest satisfied with this idea, and judge of all wars\naccording to it, however much they may differ from it,\u2014deduce from it\nall the requirements of theory?\n\nWe must decide upon this point, for we can say nothing trustworthy on\nthe Plan of War until we have made up our minds whether war should only\nbe of this kind, or whether it may be of another kind.\n\nIf we give an affirmative to the first, then our Theory will be, in all\nrespects, nearer to the necessary, it will be a clearer and more\nsettled thing. But what should we say then of all wars since those of\nAlexander up to the time of Buonaparte, if we except some campaigns of\nthe Romans? We should have to reject them in a lump, and yet we cannot,\nperhaps, do so without being ashamed of our presumption. But an\nadditional evil is, that we must say to ourselves, that in the next ten\nyears there may perhaps be a war of that same kind again, in spite of\nour Theory; and that this Theory, with a rigorous logic, is still quite\npowerless against the force of circumstances. We must, therefore,\ndecide to construe war as it is to be, and not from pure conception,\nbut by allowing room for everything of a foreign nature which mixes up\nwith it and fastens itself upon it\u2014all the natural inertia and friction\nof its parts, the whole of the inconsistency, the vagueness and\nhesitation (or timidity) of the human mind: we shall have to grasp the\nidea that war, and the form which we give it, proceeds from ideas,\nfeelings, and circumstances, which dominate for the moment; indeed, if\nwe would be perfectly candid we must admit that this has even been the\ncase where it has taken its absolute character, that is, under\nBuonaparte.\n\nIf we must do so, if we must grant that war originates and takes its\nform not from a final adjustment of the innumerable relations with\nwhich it is connected, but from some amongst them which happen to\npredominate; then it follows, as a matter of course, that it rests upon\na play of possibilities, probabilities, good fortune and bad, in which\nrigorous logical deduction often gets lost, and in which it is in\ngeneral a useless, inconvenient instrument for the head; then it also\nfollows that war may be a thing which is sometimes war in a greater,\nsometimes in a lesser degree.\n\nAll this, theory must admit, but it is its duty to give the foremost\nplace to the absolute form of war, and to use that form as a general\npoint of direction, that whoever wishes to learn something from theory,\nmay accustom himself never to lose sight of it, to regard it as the\nnatural measure of all his hopes and fears, in order to approach it\n_where he can, or where he must_.\n\nThat a leading idea, which lies at the root of our thoughts and\nactions, gives them a certain tone and character, even when the\nimmediately determining grounds come from totally different regions, is\njust as certain as that the painter can give this or that tone to his\npicture by the colours with which he lays on his ground.\n\nTheory is indebted to the last wars for being able to do this\neffectually now. Without these warning examples of the destructive\nforce of the element set free, she might have talked herself hoarse to\nno purpose; no one would have believed possible what all have now lived\nto see realised.\n\nWould Prussia have ventured to penetrate into France in the year 1798\nwith 70,000 men, if she had foreseen that the reaction in case of\nfailure would be so strong as to overthrow the old balance of power in\nEurope?\n\nWould Prussia, in 1806, have made war with 100,000 against France, if\nshe had supposed that the first pistol shot would be a spark in the\nheart of the mine, which would blow it into the air?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. A. Interdependence of the Parts in War\n\nAccording as we have in view the absolute form of war, or one of the\nreal forms deviating more or less from it, so likewise different\nnotions of its result will arise.\n\nIn the absolute form, where everything is the effect of its natural and\nnecessary cause, one thing follows another in rapid succession; there\nis, if we may use the expression, no neutral space; there is on account\nof the manifold reactionary effects which war contains in itself,(*1)\non account of the connection in which, strictly speaking, the whole\nseries of combats,(*2) follow one after another, on account of the\nculminating point which every victory has, beyond which losses and\ndefeats commence(*3) on account of all these natural relations of war\nthere is, I say, only _one result_, to wit, the _final result_. Until\nit takes place nothing is decided, nothing won, nothing lost. Here we\nmay say indeed: the end crowns the work. In this view, therefore, war\nis an indivisible whole, the parts of which (the subordinate results)\nhave no value except in their relation to this whole. The conquest of\nMoscow, and of half Russia in 1812, was of no value to Buonaparte\nunless it obtained for him the peace which he desired. But it was only\na part of his Plan of campaign; to complete that Plan, one part was\nstill wanted, the destruction of the Russian army; if we suppose this,\nadded to the other success, then the peace was as certain as it is\npossible for things of this kind to be. This second part Buonaparte\nmissed at the right time, and he could never afterwards attain it, and\nso the whole of the first part was not only useless, but fatal to him.\n\n(*1.) Book I., Chapter I.\n\n\n(*2.) Book I., Chapter I.\n\n\n(*3.) Book VII., Chapters IV. and V. (Culminating Point of Victory).\n\n\nTo this view of the relative connection of results in war, which may be\nregarded as extreme, stands opposed another extreme, according to which\nwar is composed of single independent results, in which, as in any\nnumber of games played, the preceding has no influence on the next\nfollowing; everything here, therefore, depends only on the sum total of\nthe results, and we can lay up each single one like a counter at play.\n\nJust as the first kind of view derives its truth from the nature of\nthings, so we find that of the second in history. There are cases\nwithout number in which a small moderate advantage might have been\ngained without any very onerous condition being attached to it. The\nmore the element of war is modified the more common these cases become;\nbut as little as the first of the views now imagined was ever\ncompletely realised in any war, just as little is there any war in\nwhich the last suits in all respects, and the first can be dispensed\nwith.\n\nIf we keep to the first of these supposed views, we must perceive the\nnecessity of every war being looked upon as a whole from the very\ncommencement, and that at the very first step forwards, the commander\nshould have in his eye the object to which every line must converge.\n\nIf we admit the second view, then subordinate advantages may be pursued\non their own account, and the rest left to subsequent events.\n\nAs neither of these forms of conception is entirely without result,\ntherefore theory cannot dispense with either. But it makes this\ndifference in the use of them, that it requires the first to be laid as\na fundamental idea at the root of everything, and that the latter shall\nonly be used as a modification which is justified by circumstances.\n\nIf Frederick the Great in the years 1742, 1744, 1757, and 1758, thrust\nout from Silesia and Saxony a fresh offensive point into the Austrian\nEmpire, which he knew very well could not lead to a new and durable\nconquest like that of Silesia and Saxony, it was done not with a view\nto the overthrow of the Austrian Empire, but from a lesser motive,\nnamely, to gain time and strength; and it was optional with him to\npursue that subordinate object without being afraid that he should\nthereby risk his whole existence.(*) But if Prussia in 1806, and\nAustria in 1805, 1809, proposed to themselves a still more moderate\nobject, that of driving the French over the Rhine, they would not have\nacted in a reasonable manner if they had not first scanned in their\nminds the whole series of events which either, in the case of success,\nor of the reverse, would probably follow the first step, and lead up to\npeace. This was quite indispensable, as well to enable them to\ndetermine with themselves how far victory might be followed up without\ndanger, and how and where they would be in a condition to arrest the\ncourse of victory on the enemy\u2019s side.\n\n(*) Had Frederick the Great gained the Battle of Kollen, and taken\nprisoners the chief Austrian army with their two field marshals in\nPrague, it would have been such a tremendous blow that he might then\nhave entertained the idea of marching to Vienna to make the Austrian\nCourt tremble, and gain a peace directly. This, in these times,\nunparalleled result, which would have been quite like what we have seen\nin our day, only still more wonderful and brilliant from the contest\nbeing between a little David and a great Goliath, might very probably\nhave taken place after the gain of this one battle; but that does not\ncontradict the assertion above maintained, for it only refers to what\nthe king originally looked forward to from his offensive. The\nsurrounding and taking prisoners the enemy\u2019s army was an event which\nwas beyond all calculation, and which the king never thought of, at\nleast not until the Austrians laid themselves open to it by the\nunskilful position in which they placed themselves at Prague.\n\n\nAn attentive consideration of history shows wherein the difference of\nthe two cases consists. At the time of the Silesian War in the\neighteenth century, war was still a mere Cabinet affair, in which the\npeople only took part as a blind instrument; at the beginning of the\nnineteenth century the people on each side weighed in the scale. The\ncommanders opposed to Frederick the Great were men who acted on\ncommission, and just on that account men in whom caution was a\npredominant characteristic; the opponent of the Austrians and Prussians\nmay be described in a few words as the very god of war himself.\n\nMust not these different circumstances give rise to quite different\nconsiderations? Should they not in the year 1805, 1806, and 1809 have\npointed to the extremity of disaster as a very close possibility, nay,\neven a very great probability, and should they not at the same time\nhave led to widely different plans and measures from any merely aimed\nat the conquest of a couple of fortresses or a paltry province?\n\nThey did not do so in a degree commensurate with their importance,\nalthough both Austria and Prussia, judging by their armaments, felt\nthat storms were brewing in the political atmosphere. They could not do\nso because those relations at that time were not yet so plainly\ndeveloped as they have been since from history. It is just those very\ncampaigns of 1805, 1806, 1809, and following ones, which have made it\neasier for us to form a conception of modern absolute war in its\ndestroying energy.\n\nTheory demands, therefore, that at the commencement of every war its\ncharacter and main outline shall be defined according to what the\npolitical conditions and relations lead us to anticipate as probable.\nThe more, that according to this probability its character approaches\nthe form of absolute war, the more its outline embraces the mass of the\nbelligerent states and draws them into the vortex, so much the more\ncomplete will be the relation of events to one another and the whole,\nbut so much the more necessary it will also be not to take the first\nstep without thinking what may be the last.\n\n\n\nB. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War, and the Efforts to be\nMade.\n\nThe compulsion which we must use towards our enemy will be regulated by\nthe proportions of our own and his political demands. In so far as\nthese are mutually known they will give the measure of the mutual\nefforts; but they are not always quite so evident, and this may be a\nfirst ground of a difference in the means adopted by each.\n\nThe situation and relations of the states are not like each other; this\nmay become a second cause.\n\nThe strength of will, the character and capabilities of the governments\nare as little like; this is a third cause.\n\nThese three elements cause an uncertainty in the calculation of the\namount of resistance to be expected, consequently an uncertainty as to\nthe amount of means to be applied and the object to be chosen.\n\nAs in war the want of sufficient exertion may result not only in\nfailure but in positive harm, therefore, the two sides respectively\nseek to outstrip each other, which produces a reciprocal action.\n\nThis might lead to the utmost extremity of exertion, if it was possible\nto define such a point. But then regard for the amount of the political\ndemands would be lost, the means would lose all relation to the end,\nand in most cases this aim at an extreme effort would be wrecked by the\nopposing weight of forces within itself.\n\nIn this manner, he who undertakes war is brought back again into a\nmiddle course, in which he acts to a certain extent upon the principle\nof only applying so much force and aiming at such an object in war as\nare just sufficient for the attainment of its political object. To make\nthis principle practicable he must renounce every absolute necessity of\na result, and throw out of the calculation remote contingencies.\n\nHere, therefore, the action of the mind leaves the province of science,\nstrictly speaking, of logic and mathematics, and becomes, in the widest\nsense of the term, an art, that is, skill in discriminating, by the\ntact of judgment among an infinite multitude of objects and relations,\nthat which is the most important and decisive. This tact of judgment\nconsists unquestionably more or less in some intuitive comparison of\nthings and relations by which the remote and unimportant are more\nquickly set aside, and the more immediate and important are sooner\ndiscovered than they could be by strictly logical deduction.\n\nIn order to ascertain the real scale of the means which we must put\nforth for war, we must think over the political object both on our own\nside and on the enemy\u2019s side; we must consider the power and position\nof the enemy\u2019s state as well as of our own, the character of his\ngovernment and of his people, and the capacities of both, and all that\nagain on our own side, and the political connections of other states,\nand the effect which the war will produce on those States. That the\ndetermination of these diverse circumstances and their diverse\nconnections with each other is an immense problem, that it is the true\nflash of genius which discovers here in a moment what is right, and\nthat it would be quite out of the question to become master of the\ncomplexity merely by a methodical study, this it is easy to conceive.\n\nIn this sense Buonaparte was quite right when he said that it would be\na problem in algebra before which a Newton might stand aghast.\n\nIf the diversity and magnitude of the circumstances and the uncertainty\nas to the right measure augment in a high degree the difficulty of\nobtaining a right result, we must not overlook the fact that although\nthe incomparable _importance_ of the matter does not increase the\ncomplexity and difficulty of the problem, still it very much increases\nthe merit of its solution. In men of an ordinary stamp freedom and\nactivity of mind are depressed not increased by the sense of danger and\nresponsibility: but where these things give wings to strengthen the\njudgment, there undoubtedly must be unusual greatness of soul.\n\nFirst of all, therefore, we must admit that the judgment on an\napproaching war, on the end to which it should be directed, and on the\nmeans which are required, can only be formed after a full consideration\nof the whole of the circumstances in connection with it: with which\ntherefore must also be combined the most individual traits of the\nmoment; next, that this decision, like all in military life, cannot be\npurely objective but must be determined by the mental and moral\nqualities of princes, statesmen, and generals, whether they are united\nin the person of one man or not.\n\nThe subject becomes general and more fit to be treated of in the\nabstract if we look at the general relations in which States have been\nplaced by circumstances at different times. We must allow ourselves\nhere a passing glance at history.\n\nHalf-civilised Tartars, the Republics of ancient times, the feudal\nlords and commercial cities of the Middle Ages, kings of the eighteenth\ncentury, and, lastly, princes and people of the nineteenth century, all\ncarry on war in their own way, carry it on differently, with different\nmeans, and for a different object.\n\nThe Tartars seek new abodes. They march out as a nation with their\nwives and children, they are, therefore, greater than any other army in\npoint of numbers, and their object is to make the enemy submit or expel\nhim altogether. By these means they would soon overthrow everything\nbefore them if a high degree of civilisation could be made compatible\nwith such a condition.\n\nThe old Republics with the exception of Rome were of small extent;\nstill smaller their armies, for they excluded the great mass of the\npopulace: they were too numerous and lay too close together not to find\nan obstacle to great enterprises in the natural equilibrium in which\nsmall separate parts always place themselves according to the general\nlaw of nature: therefore their wars were confined to devastating the\nopen country and taking some towns in order to ensure to themselves in\nthese a certain degree of influence for the future.\n\nRome alone forms an exception, but not until the later period of its\nhistory. For a long time, by means of small bands, it carried on the\nusual warfare with its neighbours for booty and alliances. It became\ngreat more through the alliances which it formed, and through which\nneighbouring peoples by degrees became amalgamated with it into one\nwhole, than through actual conquests. It was only after having spread\nitself in this manner all over Southern Italy, that it began to advance\nas a really conquering power. Carthage fell, Spain and Gaul were\nconquered, Greece subdued, and its dominion extended to Egypt and Asia.\nAt this period its military power was immense, without its efforts\nbeing in the same proportion. These forces were kept up by its riches;\nit no longer resembled the ancient republics, nor itself as it had\nbeen; it stands alone.\n\nJust as peculiar in their way are the wars of Alexander. With a small\narmy, but distinguished for its intrinsic perfection, he overthrew the\ndecayed fabric of the Asiatic States; without rest, and regardless of\nrisks, he traverses the breadth of Asia, and penetrates into India. No\nrepublics could do this. Only a king, in a certain measure his own\ncondottiere, could get through so much so quickly.\n\nThe great and small monarchies of the middle ages carried on their wars\nwith feudal armies. Everything was then restricted to a short period of\ntime; whatever could not be done in that time was held to be\nimpracticable. The feudal force itself was raised through an\norganisation of vassaldom; the bond which held it together was partly\nlegal obligation, partly a voluntary contract; the whole formed a real\nconfederation. The armament and tactics were based on the right of\nmight, on single combat, and therefore little suited to large bodies.\nIn fact, at no period has the union of States been so weak, and the\nindividual citizen so independent. All this influenced the character of\nthe wars at that period in the most distinct manner. They were\ncomparatively rapidly carried out, there was little time spent idly in\ncamps, but the object was generally only punishing, not subduing, the\nenemy. They carried off his cattle, burnt his towns, and then returned\nhome again.\n\nThe great commercial towns and small republics brought forward the\ncondottieri. That was an expensive, and therefore, as far as visible\nstrength, a very limited military force; as for its intensive strength,\nit was of still less value in that respect; so far from their showing\nanything like extreme energy or impetuosity in the field, their combats\nwere generally only sham fights. In a word, hatred and enmity no longer\nroused a state to personal activity, but had become articles of trade;\nwar lost great part of its danger, altered completely its nature, and\nnothing we can say of the character it then assumed, would be\napplicable to it in its reality.\n\nThe feudal system condensed itself by degrees into a decided\nterritorial supremacy; the ties binding the State together became\ncloser; obligations which concerned the person were made subject of\ncomposition; by degrees gold became the substitute in most cases, and\nthe feudal armies were turned into mercenaries. The condottieri formed\nthe connecting link in the change, and were therefore, for a time, the\ninstrument of the more powerful States; but this had not lasted long,\nwhen the soldier, hired for a limited term, was turned into a _standing\nmercenary_, and the military force of States now became an army, having\nits base in the public treasury.\n\nIt is only natural that the slow advance to this stage caused a\ndiversified interweaving of all three kinds of military force. Under\nHenry IV. we find the feudal contingents, condottieri, and standing\narmy all employed together. The condottieri carried on their existence\nup to the period of the Thirty Years\u2019 War, indeed there are slight\ntraces of them even in the eighteenth century.\n\nThe other relations of the States of Europe at these different periods\nwere quite as peculiar as their military forces. Upon the whole, this\npart of the world had split up into a mass of petty States, partly\nrepublics in a state of internal dissension, partly small monarchies in\nwhich the power of the government was very limited and insecure. A\nState in either of these cases could not be considered as a real unity;\nit was rather an agglomeration of loosely connected forces. Neither,\ntherefore, could such a State be considered an intelligent being,\nacting in accordance with simple logical rules.\n\nIt is from this point of view we must look at the foreign politics and\nwars of the Middle Ages. Let us only think of the continual expeditions\nof the Emperors of Germany into Italy for five centuries, without any\nsubstantial conquest of that country resulting from them, or even\nhaving been so much as in view. It is easy to look upon this as a fault\nrepeated over and over again as a false view which had its root in the\nnature of the times, but it is more in accordance with reason to regard\nit as the consequence of a hundred important causes which we can\npartially realise in idea, but the vital energy of which it is\nimpossible for us to understand so vividly as those who were brought\ninto actual conflict with them. As long as the great States which have\nrisen out of this chaos required time to consolidate and organise\nthemselves, their whole power and energy is chiefly directed to that\npoint; their foreign wars are few, and those that took place bear the\nstamp of a State-unity not yet well cemented.\n\nThe wars between France and England are the first that appear, and yet\nat that time France is not to be considered as really a monarchy, but\nas an agglomeration of dukedoms and countships; England, although\nbearing more the semblance of a unity, still fought with the feudal\norganisation, and was hampered by serious domestic troubles.\n\nUnder Louis XI., France made its greatest step towards internal unity;\nunder Charles VIII. it appears in Italy as a power bent on conquest;\nand under Louis XIV. it had brought its political state and its\nstanding army to the highest perfection.\n\nSpain attains to unity under Ferdinand the Catholic; through accidental\nmarriage connections, under Charles V., suddenly arose the great\nSpanish monarchy, composed of Spain, Burgundy, Germany, and Italy\nunited. What this colossus wanted in unity and internal political\ncohesion, it made up for by gold, and its standing army came for the\nfirst time into collision with the standing army of France. After\nCharles\u2019s abdication, the great Spanish colossus split into two parts,\nSpain and Austria. The latter, strengthened by the acquisition of\nBohemia and Hungary, now appears on the scene as a great power, towing\nthe German Confederation like a small vessel behind her.\n\nThe end of the seventeenth century, the time of Louis XIV., is to be\nregarded as the point in history at which the standing military power,\nsuch as it existed in the eighteenth century, reached its zenith. That\nmilitary force was based on enlistment and money. States had organised\nthemselves into complete unities; and the governments, by commuting the\npersonal obligations of their subjects into a money payment, had\nconcentrated their whole power in their treasuries. Through the rapid\nstrides in social improvements, and a more enlightened system of\ngovernment, this power had become very great in comparison to what it\nhad been. France appeared in the field with a standing army of a couple\nof hundred thousand men, and the other powers in proportion.\n\nThe other relations of States had likewise altered. Europe was divided\ninto a dozen kingdoms and two republics; it was now conceivable that\ntwo of these powers might fight with each other without ten times as\nmany others being mixed up in the quarrel, as would certainly have been\nthe case formerly. The possible combinations in political relations\nwere still manifold, but they could be discerned and determined from\ntime to time according to probability.\n\nInternal relations had almost everywhere settle down into a pure\nmonarchical form; the rights and influence of privileged bodies or\nestates had gradually died away, and the cabinet had become a complete\nunity, acting for the State in all its external relations. The time had\ntherefore come that a suitable instrument and a despotic will could\ngive war a form in accordance with the theoretical conception.\n\nAnd at this epoch appeared three new Alexanders Gustavus Adolphus,\nCharles XII., and Frederick the Great, whose aim was by small but\nhighly-disciplined armies, to raise little States to the rank of great\nmonarchies, and to throw down everything that opposed them. If they had\nhad only to deal with Asiatic States, they would have more closely\nresembled Alexander in the parts they acted. In any case, we may look\nupon them as the precursors of Buonaparte as respects that which may be\nrisked in war.\n\nBut what war gained on the one side in force and consistency was lost\nagain on the other side.\n\nArmies were supported out of the treasury, which the sovereign regarded\npartly as his private purse, or at least as a resource belonging to the\ngovernment, and not to the people. Relations with other states, except\nwith respect to a few commercial subjects, mostly concerned only the\ninterests of the treasury or of the government, not those of the\npeople; at least ideas tended everywhere in that way. The cabinets,\ntherefore, looked upon themselves as the owners and administrators of\nlarge estates, which they were continually seeking to increase without\nthe tenants on these estates being particularly interested in this\nimprovement. The people, therefore, who in the Tartar invasions were\neverything in war, who, in the old republics, and in the Middle Ages,\n(if we restrict the idea to those possessing the rights of citizens,)\nwere of great consequence, were in the eighteenth century, absolutely\nnothing directly, having only still an indirect influence on the war\nthrough their virtues and faults.\n\nIn this manner, in proportion as the government separated itself from\nthe people, and regarded itself as the state, war became more\nexclusively a business of the government, which it carried on by means\nof the money in its coffers and the idle vagabonds it could pick up in\nits own and neighbouring countries. The consequence of this was, that\nthe means which the government could command had tolerably well defined\nlimits, which could be mutually estimated, both as to their extent and\nduration; this robbed war of its most dangerous feature: namely the\neffort towards the extreme, and the hidden series of possibilities\nconnected therewith.\n\nThe financial means, the contents of the treasury, the state of credit\nof the enemy, were approximately known as well as the size of his army.\nAny large increase of these at the outbreak of a war was impossible.\nInasmuch as the limits of the enemy\u2019s power could thus be judged of, a\nState felt tolerably secure from complete subjugation, and as the State\nwas conscious at the same time of the limits of its own means, it saw\nitself restricted to a moderate aim. Protected from an extreme, there\nwas no necessity to venture on an extreme. Necessity no longer giving\nan impulse in that direction, that impulse could only now be given by\ncourage and ambition. But these found a powerful counterpoise in the\npolitical relations. Even kings in command were obliged to use the\ninstrument of war with caution. If the army was dispersed, no new one\ncould be got, and except the army there was nothing. This imposed as a\nnecessity great prudence in all undertakings. It was only when a\ndecided advantage seemed to present itself that they made use of the\ncostly instrument; to bring about such an opportunity was a general\u2019s\nart; but until it was brought about they floated to a certain degree in\nan absolute vacuum, there was no ground of action, and all forces, that\nis all designs, seemed to rest. The original motive of the aggressor\nfaded away in prudence and circumspection.\n\nThus war, in reality, became a regular game, in which Time and Chance\nshuffled the cards; but in its signification it was only diplomacy\nsomewhat intensified, a more vigorous way of negotiating, in which\nbattles and sieges were substituted for diplomatic notes. To obtain\nsome moderate advantage in order to make use of it in negotiations for\npeace, was the aim even of the most ambitious.\n\nThis restricted, shrivelled-up form of war proceeded, as we have said,\nfrom the narrow basis on which it was supported. But that excellent\ngenerals and kings, like Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII., and Frederick\nthe Great, at the head of armies just as excellent, could not gain more\nprominence in the general mass of phenomena that even these men were\nobliged to be contented to remain at the ordinary level of moderate\nresults, is to be attributed to the balance of power in Europe. Now\nthat States had become greater, and their centres further apart from\neach other, what had formerly been done through direct perfectly\nnatural interests, proximity, contact, family connections, personal\nfriendship, to prevent any one single State among the number from\nbecoming suddenly great was effected by a higher cultivation of the art\nof diplomacy. Political interests, attractions and repulsions developed\ninto a very refined system, so that a cannon shot could not be fired in\nEurope without all the cabinets having some interest in the occurrence.\n\nA new Alexander must therefore try the use of a good pen as well as his\ngood sword; and yet he never went very far with his conquests.\n\nBut although Louis XIV. had in view to overthrow the balance of power\nin Europe, and at the end of the seventeenth century had already got to\nsuch a point as to trouble himself little about the general feeling of\nanimosity, he carried on war just as it had heretofore been conducted;\nfor while his army was certainly that of the greatest and richest\nmonarch in Europe, in its nature it was just like others.\n\nPlundering and devastating the enemy\u2019s country, which play such an\nimportant part with Tartars, with ancient nations, and even in the\nMiddle Ages, were no longer in accordance with the spirit of the age.\nThey were justly looked upon as unnecessary barbarity, which might\neasily be retaliated, and which did more injury to the enemy\u2019s subjects\nthan the enemy\u2019s government, therefore, produced no effect beyond\nthrowing the nation back many stages in all that relates to peaceful\narts and civilisation. War, therefore, confined itself more and more\nboth as regards means and end, to the army itself. The army with its\nfortresses, and some prepared positions, constituted a State in a\nState, within which the element of war slowly consumed itself. All\nEurope rejoiced at its taking this direction, and held it to be the\nnecessary consequence of the spirit of progress. Although there lay in\nthis an error, inasmuch as the progress of the human mind can never\nlead to what is absurd, can never make five out of twice two, as we\nhave already said, and must again repeat, still upon the whole this\nchange had a beneficial effect for the people; only it is not to be\ndenied that it had a tendency to make war still more an affair of the\nState, and to separate it still more from the interests of the people.\nThe plan of a war on the part of the state assuming the offensive in\nthose times consisted generally in the conquest of one or other of the\nenemy\u2019s provinces; the plan of the defender was to prevent this; the\nparticular plan of campaign was to take one or other of the enemy\u2019s\nfortresses, or to prevent one of our own from being taken; it was only\nwhen a battle became unavoidable for this purpose that it was sought\nfor and fought. Whoever fought a battle without this unavoidable\nnecessity, from mere innate desire of gaining a victory, was reckoned a\ngeneral with too much daring. Generally the campaign passed over with\none siege, or if it was a very active one, with two sieges, and winter\nquarters, which were regarded as a necessity, and during which, the\nfaulty arrangements of the one could never be taken advantage of by the\nother, and in which the mutual relations of the two parties almost\nentirely ceased, formed a distinct limit to the activity which was\nconsidered to belong to one campaign.\n\nIf the forces opposed were too much on an equality, or if the aggressor\nwas decidedly the weaker of the two, then neither battle nor siege took\nplace, and the whole of the operations of the campaign pivoted on the\nmaintenance of certain positions and magazines, and the regular\nexhaustion of particular districts of country.\n\nAs long as war was universally conducted in this manner, and the\nnatural limits of its force were so close and obvious, so far from\nanything absurd being perceived in it, all was considered to be in the\nmost regular order; and criticism, which in the eighteenth century\nbegan to turn its attention to the field of art in war, addressed\nitself to details without troubling itself much about the beginning and\nthe end. Thus there was eminence and perfection of every kind, and even\nField Marshal Daun, to whom it was chiefly owing that Frederick the\nGreat completely attained his object, and that Maria Theresa completely\nfailed in hers, notwithstanding that could still pass for a great\nGeneral. Only now and again a more penetrating judgment made its\nappearance, that is, sound common sense acknowledged that with superior\nnumbers something positive should be attained or war is badly\nconducted, whatever art may be displayed.\n\nThus matters stood when the French Revolution broke out; Austria and\nPrussia tried their diplomatic art of war; this very soon proved\ninsufficient. Whilst, according to the usual way of seeing things, all\nhopes were placed on a very limited military force in 1793, such a\nforce as no one had any conception of, made its appearance. War had\nsuddenly become again an affair of the people, and that of a people\nnumbering thirty millions, every one of whom regarded himself as a\ncitizen of the State. Without entering here into the details of\ncircumstances with which this great phenomenon was attended, we shall\nconfine ourselves to the results which interest us at present. By this\nparticipation of the people in the war instead of a cabinet and an\narmy, a whole nation with its natural weight came into the scale.\nHenceforward, the means available the efforts which might be called\nforth had no longer any definite limits; the energy with which the war\nitself might be conducted had no longer any counterpoise, and\nconsequently the danger for the adversary had risen to the extreme.\n\nIf the whole war of the revolution passed over without all this making\nitself felt in its full force and becoming quite evident; if the\ngenerals of the revolution did not persistently press on to the final\nextreme, and did not overthrow the monarchies in Europe; if the German\narmies now and again had the opportunity of resisting with success, and\nchecking for a time the torrent of victory, the cause lay in reality in\nthat technical incompleteness with which the French had to contend,\nwhich showed itself first amongst the common soldiers, then in the\ngenerals, lastly, at the time of the Directory, in the Government\nitself.\n\nAfter all this was perfected by the hand of Buonaparte, this military\npower, based on the strength of the whole nation, marched over Europe,\nsmashing everything in pieces so surely and certainly, that where it\nonly encountered the old fashioned armies the result was not doubtful\nfor a moment. A re-action, however, awoke in due time. In Spain, the\nwar became of itself an affair of the people. In Austria, in the year\n1809, the Government commenced extraordinary efforts, by means of\nReserves and Landwehr, which were nearer to the true object, and far\nsurpassed in degree what this State had hitherto conceived possible, In\nRussia, in 1812, the example of Spain and Austria was taken as a\npattern, the enormous dimensions of that empire on the one hand allowed\nthe preparations, although too long deferred, still to produce effect;\nand, on the other hand, intensified the effect produced. The result was\nbrilliant. In Germany, Prussia rose up the first, made the war a\nnational cause, and without either money or credit, and with a\npopulation reduced one half, took the field with an army twice as\nstrong as that of 1806. The rest of Germany followed the example of\nPrussia sooner or later, and Austria, although less energetic than in\n1809, still also came forward with more than its usual strength. Thus\nit was that Germany and Russia in the years 1813 and 1814, including\nall who took an active part in, or were absorbed in these two\ncampaigns, appeared against France with about a million of men.\n\nUnder these circumstances, the energy thrown into the conduct of the\nwar was quite different; and, although not quite on a level with that\nof the French, although at some points timidity was still to be\nobserved, the course of the campaigns, upon the whole, may be said to\nhave been in the new, not in the old, style. In eight months the\ntheatre of war was removed from the Oder to the Seine. Proud Paris had\nto bow its head for the first time; and the redoubtable Buonaparte lay\nfettered on the ground.\n\nTherefore, since the time of Buonaparte, war, through being first on\none side, then again on the other, an affair of the whole nation, has\nassumed quite a new nature, or rather it has approached much nearer to\nits real nature, to its absolute perfection. The means then called\nforth had no visible limit, the limit losing itself in the energy and\nenthusiasm of the Government and its subjects. By the extent of the\nmeans, and the wide field of possible results, as well as by the\npowerful excitement of feeling which prevailed, energy in the conduct\nof war was immensely increased; the object of its action was the\ndownfall of the foe; and not until the enemy lay powerless on the\nground was it supposed to be possible to stop or to come to any\nunderstanding with respect to the mutual objects of the contest.\n\nThus, therefore, the element of war, freed from all conventional\nrestrictions, broke loose, with all its natural force. The cause was\nthe participation of the people in this great _affair of State_, and\nthis participation arose partly from the effects of the French\nRevolution on the internal affairs of countries, partly from the\nthreatening attitude of the French towards all nations.\n\nNow, whether this will be the case always in future, whether all wars\nhereafter in Europe will be carried on with the whole power of the\nStates, and, consequently, will only take place on account of great\ninterests closely affecting the people, or whether a separation of the\ninterests of the Government from those of the people will gradually\nagain arise, would be a difficult point to settle; and, least of all,\nshall we take upon us to settle it. But every one will agree with us,\nthat bounds, which to a certain extent existed only in an\nunconsciousness of what is possible, when once thrown down, are not\neasily built up again; and that, at least, whenever great interests are\nin dispute, mutual hostility will discharge itself in the same manner\nas it has done in our times.\n\nWe here bring our historical survey to a close, for it was not our\ndesign to give at a gallop some of the principles on which war has been\ncarried on in each age, but only to show how each period has had its\nown peculiar forms of war, its own restrictive conditions, and its own\nprejudices. Each period would, therefore, also keep its own theory of\nwar, even if every where, in early times, as well as in later, the task\nhad been undertaken of working out a theory on philosophical\nprinciples. The events in each age must, therefore, be judged of in\nconnection with the peculiarities of the time, and only he who, less\nthrough an anxious study of minute details than through an accurate\nglance at the whole, can transfer himself into each particular age, is\nfit to understand and appreciate its generals.\n\nBut this conduct of war, conditioned by the peculiar relations of\nStates, and of the military force employed, must still always contain\nin itself something more general, or rather something quite general,\nwith which, above everything, theory is concerned.\n\nThe latest period of past time, in which war reached its absolute\nstrength, contains most of what is of general application and\nnecessary. But it is just as improbable that wars henceforth will all\nhave this grand character as that the wide barriers which have been\nopened to them will ever be completely closed again. Therefore, by a\ntheory which only dwells upon this absolute war, all cases in which\nexternal influences alter the nature of war would be excluded or\ncondemned as false. This cannot be the object of theory, which ought to\nbe the science of war, not under ideal but under real circumstances.\nTheory, therefore, whilst casting a searching, discriminating and\nclassifying glance at objects, should always have in view the manifold\ndiversity of causes from which war may proceed, and should, therefore,\nso trace out its great features as to leave room for what is required\nby the exigencies of time and the moment.\n\nAccordingly, we must add that the object which every one who undertakes\nwar proposes to himself, and the means which he calls forth, are\ndetermined entirely according to the particular details of his\nposition; and on that very account they will also bear in themselves\nthe character of the time and of the general relations; lastly, _that\nthey are always subject to the general conclusions to be deduced from\nthe nature of war_.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. Ends in War More Precisely Defined\nOverthrow of the Enemy\n\nThe aim of war in conception must always be the overthrow of the enemy;\nthis is the fundamental idea from which we set out.\n\nNow, what is this overthrow? It does not always imply as necessary the\ncomplete conquest of the enemy\u2019s country. If the Germans had reached\nParis, in 1792, there\u2014in all human probability\u2014the war with the\nRevolutionary party would have been brought to an end at once for a\nseason; it was not at all necessary at that time to beat their armies\nbeforehand, for those armies were not yet to be looked upon as potent\npowers in themselves singly. On the other hand, in 1814, the allies\nwould not have gained everything by taking Paris if Buonaparte had\nstill remained at the head of a considerable army; but as his army had\nnearly melted away, therefore, also in the year 1814 and 1815 the\ntaking of Paris decided all. If Buonaparte in the year 1812, either\nbefore or after taking Moscow, had been able to give the Russian army\nof 120,000 on the Kaluga road, a complete defeat, such as he gave the\nAustrians in 1805, and the Prussian army, 1806, then the possession of\nthat capital would most probably have brought about a peace, although\nan enormous tract of country still remained to be conquered. In the\nyear 1805 it was the battle of Austerlitz that was decisive; and,\ntherefore, the previous possession of Vienna and two-thirds of the\nAustrian States, was not of sufficient weight to gain for Buonaparte a\npeace; but, on the other hand also, after that battle of Austerlitz,\nthe integrity of Hungary, still intact, was not of sufficient weight to\nprevent the conclusion of peace. In the Russian campaign, the complete\ndefeat of the Russian army was the last blow required: the Emperor\nAlexander had no other army at hand, and, therefore, peace was the\ncertain consequence of victory. If the Russian army had been on the\nDanube along with the Austrian, and had shared in its defeat, then\nprobably the conquest of Vienna would not have been necessary, and\npeace would have been concluded in Linz.\n\nIn other cases, the complete conquest of a country has not been\nsufficient, as in the year 1807, in Prussia, when the blow levelled\nagainst the Russian auxiliary army, in the doubtful battle of Eylau,\nwas not decisive enough, and the undoubted victory of Friedland was\nrequired as a finishing blow, like the victory of Austerlitz in the\npreceding year.\n\nWe see that here, also, the result cannot be determined from general\ngrounds; the individual causes, which no one knows who is not on the\nspot, and many of a moral nature which are never heard of, even the\nsmallest traits and accidents, which only appear in history as\nanecdotes, are often decisive. All that theory can here say is as\nfollows:\u2014That the great point is to keep the overruling relations of\nboth parties in view. Out of them a certain centre of gravity, a centre\nof power and movement, will form itself, on which everything depends;\nand against this centre of gravity of the enemy, the concentrated blow\nof all the forces must be directed.\n\nThe little always depends on the great, the unimportant on the\nimportant, and the accidental on the essential. This must guide our\nview.\n\nAlexander had his centre of gravity in his army, so had Gustavus\nAdolphus, Charles XII., and Frederick the Great, and the career of any\none of them would soon have been brought to a close by the destruction\nof his army: in States torn by internal dissensions, this centre\ngenerally lies in the capital; in small states dependent on greater\nones, it lies generally in the army of these allies; in a confederacy,\nit lies in the unity of interests; in a national insurrection, in the\nperson of the chief leader, and in public opinion; against these points\nthe blow must be directed. If the enemy by this loses his balance, no\ntime must be allowed for him to recover it; the blow must be\npersistently repeated in the same direction, or, in other words, the\nconqueror must always direct his blows upon the mass, but not against a\nfraction of the enemy. It is not by conquering one of the enemy\u2019s\nprovinces, with little trouble and superior numbers, and preferring the\nmore secure possession of this unimportant conquest to great results,\nbut by seeking out constantly the heart of the hostile power, and\nstaking everything in order to gain all, that we can effectually strike\nthe enemy to the ground.\n\nBut whatever may be the central point of the enemy\u2019s power against\nwhich we are to direct our operations, still the conquest and\ndestruction of his army is the surest commencement, and in all cases,\nthe most essential.\n\nHence we think that, according to the majority of ascertained facts,\nthe following circumstances chiefly bring about the overthrow of the\nenemy.\n\n1. Dispersion of his army if it forms, in some degree, a potential\nforce.\n\n2. Capture of the enemy\u2019s capital city, if it is both the centre of the\npower of the State and the seat of political assemblies and actions.\n\n3. An effectual blow against the principal ally, if he is more powerful\nthan the enemy himself.\n\nWe have always hitherto supposed the enemy in war as a unity, which is\nallowable for considerations of a very general nature. But having said\nthat the subjugation of the enemy lies in the overcoming his\nresistance, concentrated in the centre of gravity, we must lay aside\nthis supposition and introduce the case, in which we have to deal with\nmore than one opponent.\n\nIf two or more States combine against a third, that combination\nconstitutes, in a political aspect, only _one_ war, at the same time\nthis political union has also its degrees.\n\nThe question is whether each State in the coalition possesses an\nindependent interest in, and an independent force with which to\nprosecute, the war; or whether there is one amongst them on whose\ninterests and forces those of the others lean for support. The more\nthat the last is the case, the easier it is to look upon the different\nenemies as one alone, and the more readily we can simplify our\nprincipal enterprise to one great blow; and as long as this is in any\nway possible, it is the most thorough and complete means of success.\n\nWe may, therefore, establish it as a principle, that if we can conquer\nall our enemies by conquering one of them, the defeat of that one must\nbe the aim of the war, because in that one we hit the common centre of\ngravity of the whole war.\n\nThere are very few cases in which this kind of conception is not\nadmissible, and where this reduction of several centres of gravity to\none cannot be made. But if this cannot be done, then indeed there is no\nalternative but to look upon the war as two or more separate wars, each\nof which has its own aim. As this case supposes the substantive\nindependence of several enemies, consequently a great superiority of\nthe whole, therefore in this case the overthrow of the enemy cannot, in\ngeneral, come into question.\n\nWe now turn more particularly to the question, When is such an object\npossible and advisable?\n\nIn the first place, our forces must be sufficient,\u2014\n\n1. To gain a decisive victory over those of the enemy.\n\n2. To make the expenditure of force which may be necessary to follow up\nthe victory to a point at which it will no longer be possible for the\nenemy to regain his balance.\n\nNext, we must feel sure that in our political situation, such a result\nwill not excite against us new enemies, who may compel us on the spot\nto set free our first enemy.\n\nFrance, in the year 1806, was able completely to conquer Prussia,\nalthough in doing so it brought down upon itself the whole military\npower of Russia, because it was in a condition to cope with the\nRussians in Prussia.\n\nFrance might have done the same in Spain in 1808 as far as regards\nEngland, but not as regards Austria. It was compelled to weaken itself\nmaterially in Spain in 1809, and must have quite given up the contest\nin that country if it had not had otherwise great superiority both\nphysically and morally, over Austria.\n\nThese three cases should therefore be carefully studied, that we may\nnot lose in the last the cause which we have gained in the former ones,\nand be condemned in costs.\n\nIn estimating the strength of forces, and that which may be effected by\nthem, the idea very often suggests itself to look upon time by a\ndynamic analogy as a factor of forces, and to assume accordingly that\nhalf efforts, or half the number of forces would accomplish in two\nyears what could only be effected in one year by the whole force\nunited. This view which lies at the bottom of military schemes,\nsometimes clearly, sometimes less plainly, is completely wrong.\n\nAn operation in war, like everything else upon earth, requires its\ntime; as a matter of course we cannot walk from Wilna to Moscow in\neight days; but there is no trace to be found in war of any reciprocal\naction between time and force, such as takes place in dynamics.\n\nTime is necessary to both belligerents, and the only question is: which\nof the two, judging by his position, has most reason to expect _special\nadvantages_ from time? Now (exclusive of peculiarities in the situation\non one side or the other) the _vanquished_ has plainly the most reason,\nat the same time certainly not by dynamic, but by psychological laws.\nEnvy, jealousy, anxiety for self, as well as now and again magnanimity,\nare the natural intercessors for the unfortunate; they raise up for him\non the one hand friends, and on the other hand weaken and dissolve the\ncoalition amongst his enemies. Therefore, by delay something\nadvantageous is more likely to happen for the conquered than for the\nconqueror. Further, we must recollect that to make right use of a first\nvictory, as we have already shown, a great expenditure of force is\nnecessary; this is not a mere outlay once for all, but has to be kept\nup like housekeeping, on a great scale; the forces which have been\nsufficient to give us possession of a province, are not always\nsufficient to meet this additional outlay; by degrees the strain upon\nour resources becomes greater, until at last it becomes insupportable;\ntime, therefore, of itself may bring about a change.\n\nCould the contributions which Buonaparte levied from the Russians and\nPoles, in money and in other ways, in 1812, have procured the hundreds\nof thousands of men that he must have sent to Moscow in order to retain\nhis position there?\n\nBut if the conquered provinces are sufficiently important, if there are\nin them points which are essential to the well-being of those parts\nwhich are not conquered, so that the evil, like a cancer, is\nperpetually of itself gnawing further into the system, then it is\npossible that the conqueror, although nothing further is done, may gain\nmore than he loses. Now in this state of circumstances, if no help\ncomes from without, then time may complete the work thus commenced;\nwhat still remains unconquered will, perhaps, fall of itself.\nTherefore, thus time may also become a factor of his forces, but this\ncan only take place if a return blow from the conquered is no longer\npossible, a change of fortune in his favour no longer conceivable, when\ntherefore this factor of his forces is no longer of any value to the\nconqueror; for he has accomplished the chief object, the danger of the\nculminating point is past, in short, the enemy is already subdued.\n\nOur object in the above reasoning has been to show clearly that no\nconquest can be finished too soon, that spreading it over a _greater\nspace of time_ than is absolutely necessary for its completion, instead\nof _facilitating_ it, makes it more _difficult_. If this assertion is\ntrue, it is further true also that if we are strong enough to effect a\ncertain conquest, we must also be strong enough to do it in one march\nwithout intermediate stations. Of course we do not mean by this without\nshort halts, in order to concentrate the forces, and make other\nindispensable arrangements.\n\nBy this view, which makes the character of a speedy and persistent\neffort towards a decision essential to offensive war, we think we have\ncompletely set aside all grounds for _that_ theory which in place of\nthe irresistible continued following up of victory, would substitute a\nslow methodical system as being more sure and prudent. But even for\nthose who have readily followed us so far, our assertion has, perhaps\nafter all, so much the appearance of a paradox, is at first sight so\nmuch opposed and offensive to an opinion which, like an old prejudice,\nhas taken deep root, and has been repeated a thousand times in books,\nthat we considered it advisable to examine more closely the foundation\nof those plausible arguments which may be advanced.\n\nIt is certainly easier to reach an object near us than one at a\ndistance, but when the nearest one does not suit our purpose it does\nnot follow that dividing the work, that a resting point, will enable us\nto get over the second half of the road easier. A small jump is easier\nthan a large one, but no one on that account, wishing to cross a wide\nditch, would jump half of it first.\n\nIf we look closely into the foundation of the conception of the\nso-called methodical offensive war, we shall find it generally consists\nof the following things:\u2014\n\n1. Conquest of those fortresses belonging to the enemy which we meet\nwith.\n\n2. Laying in the necessary supplies.\n\n3. Fortifying important points, as, _magazines, bridges, positions_,\netc.\n\n4. Resting the troops in quarters during winter, or when they require\nto be recruited in health and refreshed.\n\n5. Waiting for the reinforcements of the ensuing year.\n\nIf for the attainment of all these objects we make a formal division in\nthe course of the offensive action, a resting point in the movement, it\nis supposed that we gain a new base and renewed force, as if our own\nState was following up in the rear of the army, and that the latter\nlaid in renewed vigour for every fresh campaign.\n\nAll these praiseworthy motives may make the offensive war more\nconvenient, but they do not make its results surer, and are generally\nonly make-believes to cover certain counteracting forces, such as the\nfeelings of the commander or irresolution in the cabinet. We shall try\nto roll them up from the left flank.\n\n1. The waiting for reinforcements suits the enemy just as well, and is,\nwe may say, more to his advantage. Besides, it lies in the nature of\nthe thing that a State can place in line nearly as many combatant\nforces in one year as in two; for all the actual increase of combatant\nforce in the second year is but trifling in relation to the whole.\n\n2. The enemy rests himself at the same time that we do.\n\n3. The fortification of towns and positions is not the work of the\narmy, and therefore no ground for any delay.\n\n4. According to the present system of subsisting armies, magazines are\nmore necessary when the army is in cantonments, than when it is\nadvancing. As long as we advance with success, we continually fall into\npossession of some of the enemy\u2019s provision depots, which assist us\nwhen the country itself is poor.\n\n5. The taking of the enemy\u2019s fortresses cannot be regarded as a\nsuspension of the attack: it is an intensified progress, and therefore\nthe seeming suspension which is caused thereby is not properly a case\nsuch as we allude to, it is neither a suspension nor a modifying of the\nuse of force. But whether a regular siege, a blockade, or a mere\nobservation of one or other is most to the purpose, is a question which\ncan only be decided according to particular circumstances. We can only\nsay this in general, that in answering this question another must be\nclearly decided, which is, whether the risk will not be too great if,\nwhile only blockading, we at the same time make a further advance.\nWhere this is not the case, and when there is ample room to extend our\nforces, it is better to postpone the formal siege till the termination\nof the whole offensive movement. We must therefore take care not to be\nled into the error of neglecting the essential, through the idea of\nimmediately making secure that which is conquered.\n\nNo doubt it seems as if, by thus advancing, we at once hazard the loss\nof what has been already gained. Our opinion, however, is that no\ndivision of action, no resting point, no intermediate stations are in\naccordance with the nature of offensive war, and that when the same are\nunavoidable, they are to be regarded as an evil which makes the result\nnot more certain, but, on the contrary, more uncertain; and further,\nthat, strictly speaking, if from weakness or any cause we have been\nobliged to stop, a second spring at the object we have in view is, as a\nrule, impossible; but if such a second spring is possible, then the\nstoppage at the intermediate station was unnecessary, and that when an\nobject at the very commencement is beyond our strength, it will always\nremain so.\n\nWe say, this appears to be the general truth, by which we only wish to\nset aside the idea that time of itself can do something for the\nadvantage of the assailant. But as the political relations may change\nfrom year to year, therefore, on that account alone, many cases may\nhappen which are exceptions to this general truth.\n\nIt may appear perhaps as if we had left our general point of view, and\nhad nothing in our eye except offensive war; but it is not so by any\nmeans. Certainly, he who can set before himself the complete overthrow\nof the enemy as his object, will not easily be reduced to take refuge\nin the defensive, the immediate object of which is only to keep\npossession; but as we stand by the declaration throughout, that a\ndefensive without any positive principle is a contradiction in strategy\nas well as in tactics, and therefore always come back to the fact that\nevery defensive, according to its strength, will seek to change to the\nattack as soon as it has exhausted the advantages of the defensive, so\ntherefore, however great or small the defence may be, we still also\ninclude in it contingently the overthrow of the enemy as an object\nwhich this attack may have, and which is to be considered as the proper\nobject of the defensive, and we say that there may be cases in which\nthe assailant, notwithstanding he has in view such a great object, may\nstill prefer at first to make use of the defensive form. That this idea\nis founded in reality is easily shown by the campaign of 1812. The\nEmperor Alexander in engaging in the war did not perhaps think of\nruining his enemy completely, as was done in the sequel; but is there\nanything which makes such an idea impossible? And yet, if so, would it\nnot still remain very natural that the Russians began the war on the\ndefensive?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. Ends in War More Precisely Defined (_continued_) Limited\nObject\n\nIn the preceding chapter we have said that, under the expression\n\u201coverthrow of the enemy,\u201d we understand the real absolute aim of the\n\u201cact of war;\u201d now we shall see what remains to be done when the\nconditions under which this object might be attained do not exist.\n\nThese conditions presuppose a great physical or moral superiority, or a\ngreat spirit of enterprise, an innate propensity to extreme hazards.\nNow where all this is not forthcoming, the aim in the act of war can\nonly be of two kinds; either the conquest of some small or moderate\nportion of the enemy\u2019s country, or the defence of our own until better\ntimes; this last is the usual case in defensive war.\n\nWhether the one or the other of these aims is of the right kind, can\nalways be settled by calling to mind the expression used in reference\nto the last. _The waiting till more favourable times_ implies that we\nhave reason to expect such times hereafter, and this waiting for, that\nis, defensive war, is always based on this prospect; on the other hand,\noffensive war, that is, the taking advantage of the present moment, is\nalways commanded when the future holds out a better prospect, not to\nourselves, but to our adversary.\n\nThe third case, which is probably the most common, is when neither\nparty has anything definite to look for from the future, when therefore\nit furnishes no motive for decision. In this case, the offensive war is\nplainly imperative upon him who is politically the aggressor, that is,\nwho has the positive motive; for he has taken up arms with that object,\nand every moment of time which is lost without any good reason, is so\nmuch lost time _for him_.\n\nWe have here decided for offensive or defensive war on grounds which\nhave nothing to do with the relative forces of the combatants\nrespectively, and yet it may appear that it would be nearer right to\nmake the choice of the offensive or defensive chiefly dependent on the\nmutual relations of combatants in point of military strength; our\nopinion is, that in doing so we should just leave the right road. The\nlogical correctness of our simple argument no one will dispute; we\nshall now see whether in the concrete case it leads to the contrary.\n\nLet us suppose a small State which is involved in a contest with a very\nsuperior power, and foresees that with each year its position will\nbecome worse: should it not, if war is inevitable, make use of the time\nwhen its situation is furthest from the worst? Then it must attack, not\nbecause the attack in _itself_ ensures any advantages\u2014it will rather\nincrease the disparity of forces\u2014but because this State is under the\nnecessity of either bringing the matter completely to an issue before\nthe worst time arrives, or of gaining, at least, in the mean time, some\nadvantages which it may hereafter turn to account. This theory cannot\nappear absurd. But if this small State is quite certain that the enemy\nwill advance against it, then, certainly, it can and may make use of\nthe defensive against its enemy to procure a first advantage; there is\nthen at any rate no danger of losing time.\n\nIf, again, we suppose a small State engaged in war with a greater, and\nthat the future has no influence on their decisions, still, if the\nsmall State is politically the assailant, we demand of it also that it\nshould go forward to its object.\n\nIf it has had the audacity to propose to itself a positive end in the\nface of superior numbers, then it must also act, that is, attack the\nfoe, if the latter does not save it the trouble. Waiting would be an\nabsurdity; unless at the moment of execution it has altered its\npolitical resolution, a case which very frequently occurs, and\ncontributes in no small degree to give wars an indefinite character.\n\nThese considerations on the limited object apply to its connection both\nwith offensive war and defensive war; we shall consider both in\nseparate chapters. But we shall first turn our attention to another\nphase.\n\nHitherto we have deduced the modifications in the object of war solely\nfrom intrinsic reasons. The nature of the political view (or design) we\nhave only taken into consideration in so far as it is or is not\ndirected at something positive. Everything else in the political design\nis in reality something extraneous to war; but in the second chapter of\nthe first book (End and Means in War) we have already admitted that the\nnature of the political object, the extent of our own or the enemy\u2019s\ndemand, and our whole political relation practically have a most\ndecisive influence on the conduct of the war, and we shall therefore\ndevote the following chapter to that subject specially.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. A. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object\n\nWe never find that a State joining in the cause of another State, takes\nit up with the same earnestness as its own. An auxiliary army of\nmoderate strength is sent; if it is not successful, then the ally looks\nupon the affair as in a manner ended, and tries to get out of it on the\ncheapest terms possible.\n\nIn European politics it has been usual for States to pledge themselves\nto mutual assistance by an alliance offensive and defensive, not so far\nthat the one takes part in the interests and quarrels of the other, but\nonly so far as to promise one another beforehand the assistance of a\nfixed, generally very moderate, contingent of troops, without regard to\nthe object of the war, or the scale on which it is about to be carried\non by the principals. In a treaty of alliance of this kind, the ally\ndoes not look upon himself as engaged with the enemy in a war properly\nspeaking, which should necessarily begin with a declaration of war, and\nend with a treaty of peace. Still, this idea also is nowhere fixed with\nany distinctness, and usage varies one way and another.\n\nThe thing would have a kind of consistency, and it would be less\nembarrassing to the theory of war if this promised contingent of ten,\ntwenty, or thirty thousand men was handed over entirely to the state\nengaged in war, so that it could be used as required; it might then be\nregarded as a subsidised force. But the usual practice is widely\ndifferent. Generally the auxiliary force has its own commander, who\ndepends only on his own government, and to whom they prescribe an\nobject such as best suits the shilly-shally measures they have in view.\n\nBut even if two States go to war with a third, they do not always both\nlook in like measure upon this common enemy as one that they must\ndestroy or be destroyed by themselves, the business is often settled\nlike a commercial transaction; each, according to the amount of the\nrisk he incurs or the advantage to be expected, takes shares in the\nconcern to the extent of 30,000 or 40,000 men, and acts as if he could\nnot lose more than the amount of his investment.\n\nNot only is this the point of view taken when a State comes to the\nassistance of another in a cause in which it has in a manner, little\nconcern, but even when both allies have a common and very considerable\ninterest at stake, nothing can be done except under diplomatic\nreservation, and the contracting parties usually only agree to furnish\na small stipulated contingent, in order to employ the rest of the\nforces according to the special ends to which policy may happen to lead\nthem.\n\nThis way of regarding wars entered into by reason of alliances was\nquite general, and was only obliged to give place to the natural way in\nquite modern times, when the extremity of danger drove men\u2019s minds into\nthe natural direction (as in the wars _against_ Buonaparte), and when\nthe most boundless power compelled them to it (as _under_ Buonaparte).\nIt was an abnormal thing, an anomaly, for war and peace are ideas which\nin their foundation can have no gradations; nevertheless it was no mere\ndiplomatic offspring which the reason could look down upon, but deeply\nrooted in the natural limitedness and weakness of human nature.\n\nLastly, even in wars carried on without allies, the political cause of\na war has a great influence on the method in which it is conducted.\n\nIf we only require from the enemy a small sacrifice, then we content\nourselves with aiming at a small equivalent by the war, and we expect\nto attain that by moderate efforts. The enemy reasons in very much the\nsame way. Now, if one or the other finds that he has erred in his\nreckoning that in place of being slightly superior to the enemy, as he\nsupposed, he is, if anything, rather weaker, still, at that moment,\nmoney and all other means, as well as sufficient moral impulse for\ngreater exertions are very often deficient: in such a case he just does\nwhat is called \u201cthe best he can;\u201d hopes better things in the future,\nalthough he has not the slightest foundation for such hope, and the\nwar, in the mean time drags itself feebly along, like a body worn out\nwith sickness.\n\nThus it comes to pass that the reciprocal action, the rivalry, the\nviolence and impetuosity of war lose themselves in the stagnation of\nweak motives, and that both parties move with a certain kind of\nsecurity in very circumscribed spheres.\n\nIf this influence of the political object is once permitted, as it then\nmust be, there is no longer any limit, and we must be pleased to come\ndown to such warfare as consists in a _mere threatening of the enemy_\nand in _negotiating_.\n\nThat the theory of war, if it is to be and to continue a philosophical\nstudy, finds itself here in a difficulty is clear. All that is\nessentially inherent in the conception of war seems to fly from it, and\nit is in danger of being left without any point of support. But the\nnatural outlet soon shows itself. According as a modifying principle\ngains influence over the act of war, or rather, the weaker the motives\nto action become, the more the action will glide into a passive\nresistance, the less eventful it will become, and the less it will\nrequire guiding principles. All military art then changes itself into\nmere prudence, the principal object of which will be to prevent the\ntrembling balance from suddenly turning to our disadvantage, and the\nhalf war from changing into a complete one.\n\n\n\nB. War as an Instrument of Policy\n\nHaving made the requisite examination on both sides of that state of\nantagonism in which the nature of war stands with relation to other\ninterests of men individually and of the bond of society, in order not\nto neglect any of the opposing elements, an antagonism which is founded\nin our own nature, and which, therefore, no philosophy can unravel, we\nshall now look for that unity into which, in practical life, these\nantagonistic elements combine themselves by partly neutralising each\nother. We should have brought forward this unity at the very\ncommencement, if it had not been necessary to bring out this\ncontradiction very plainly, and also to look at the different elements\nseparately. Now, this unity is _the conception that war is only a part\nof political intercourse, therefore by no means an independent thing in\nitself_.\n\nWe know, certainly, that war is only called forth through the political\nintercourse of Governments and nations; but in general it is supposed\nthat such intercourse is broken off by war, and that a totally\ndifferent state of things ensues, subject to no laws but its own.\n\nWe maintain, on the contrary: that war is nothing but a continuation of\npolitical intercourse, with a mixture of other means. We say, mixed\nwith other means, in order thereby to maintain at the same time that\nthis political intercourse does not cease by the war itself, is not\nchanged into something quite different, but that, in its essence, it\ncontinues to exist, whatever may be the form of the means which it\nuses, and that the chief lines on which the events of the war progress,\nand to which they are attached, are only the general features of policy\nwhich run all through the war until peace takes place. And how can we\nconceive it to be otherwise? Does the cessation of diplomatic notes\nstop the political relations between different nations and Governments?\nIs not war merely another kind of writing and language for political\nthoughts? It has certainly a grammar of its own, but its logic is not\npeculiar to itself.\n\nAccordingly, war can never be separated from political intercourse, and\nif, in the consideration of the matter, this is done in any way, all\nthe threads of the different relations are, to a certain extent,\nbroken, and we have before us a senseless thing without an object.\n\nThis kind of idea would be indispensable even if war was perfect war,\nthe perfectly unbridled element of hostility, for all the circumstances\non which it rests, and which determine its leading features, viz., our\nown power, the enemy\u2019s power, allies on both sides, the characteristics\nof the people and their Governments respectively, etc., as enumerated\nin the first chapter of the first book, are they not of a political\nnature, and are they not so intimately connected with the whole\npolitical intercourse that it is impossible to separate them? But this\nview is doubly indispensable if we reflect that real war is no such\nconsistent effort tending to an extreme, as it should be according to\nthe abstract idea, but a half and half thing, a contradiction in\nitself; that, as such, it cannot follow its own laws, but must be\nlooked upon as a part of another whole, and this whole is policy.\n\nPolicy in making use of war avoids all those rigorous conclusions which\nproceed from its nature; it troubles itself little about final\npossibilities, confining its attention to immediate probabilities. If\nmuch uncertainty in the whole action ensues therefrom, if it thereby\nbecomes a sort of game, the policy of each cabinet places its\nconfidence in the belief that in this game it will surpass its\nneighbour in skill and sharpsightedness.\n\nThus policy makes out of the all-overpowering element of war a mere\ninstrument, changes the tremendous battle-sword, which should be lifted\nwith both hands and the whole power of the body to strike once for all,\ninto a light handy weapon, which is even sometimes nothing more than a\nrapier to exchange thrusts and feints and parries.\n\nThus the contradictions in which man, naturally timid, becomes involved\nby war, may be solved, if we choose to accept this as a solution.\n\nIf war belongs to policy, it will naturally take its character from\nthence. If policy is grand and powerful, so will also be the war, and\nthis may be carried to the point at which war attains to _its absolute\nform_.\n\nIn this way of viewing the subject, therefore, we need not shut out of\nsight the absolute form of war, we rather keep it continually in view\nin the back ground.\n\nOnly through this kind of view, war recovers unity; only by it can we\nsee all wars as things of one kind; and it is only through it that the\njudgment can obtain the true and perfect basis and point of view from\nwhich great plans may be traced out and determined upon.\n\nIt is true the political element does not sink deep into the details of\nwar, Vedettes are not planted, patrols do not make their rounds from\npolitical considerations, but small as is its influence in this\nrespect, it is great in the formation of a plan for a whole war, or a\ncampaign, and often even for a battle.\n\nFor this reason we were in no hurry to establish this view at the\ncommencement. While engaged with particulars, it would have given us\nlittle help; and, on the other hand, would have distracted our\nattention to a certain extent; in the plan of a war or campaign it is\nindispensable.\n\nThere is, upon the whole, nothing more important in life than to find\nout the right point of view from which things should be looked at and\njudged of, and then to keep to that point; for we can only apprehend\nthe mass of events in their unity from one standpoint; and it is only\nthe keeping to one point of view that guards us from inconsistency.\n\nIf, therefore, in drawing up a plan of a war it is not allowable to\nhave a two-fold or three-fold point of view, from which things may be\nlooked at, now with the eye of a soldier, then with that of an\nadministrator, and then again with that of a politician, etc., then the\nnext question is, whether _policy_ is necessarily paramount, and\neverything else subordinate to it.\n\nThat policy unites in itself, and reconciles all the interests of\ninternal administrations, even those of humanity, and whatever else are\nrational subjects of consideration, is presupposed, for it is nothing\nin itself, except a mere representative and exponent of all these\ninterests towards other States. That policy may take a false direction,\nand may promote unfairly the ambitious ends, the private interests, the\nvanity of rulers, does not concern us here; for, under no circumstances\ncan the art of war be regarded as its preceptor, and we can only look\nat policy here as the representative of the interests generally of the\nwhole community.\n\nThe only question, therefore, is, whether in framing plans for a war\nthe political point of view should give way to the purely military (if\nsuch a point is conceivable), that is to say, should disappear\naltogether, or subordinate itself to it, or whether the political is to\nremain the ruling point of view, and the military to be considered\nsubordinate to it.\n\nThat the political point of view should end completely when war begins,\nis only conceivable in contests which are wars of life and death, from\npure hatred: as wars are in reality, they are as we before said, only\nthe expressions or manifestations of policy itself. The subordination\nof the political point of view to the military would be contrary to\ncommon sense, for policy has declared the war; it is the intelligent\nfaculty, war only the instrument, and not the reverse. The\nsubordination of the military point of view to the political is,\ntherefore, the only thing which is possible.\n\nIf we reflect on the nature of real war, and call to mind what has been\nsaid in the third chapter of this book, _that every war should be\nviewed above all things according to the probability of its character,\nand its leading features as they are to be deduced from the political\nforces and proportions_, and that often\u2014indeed we may safely affirm, in\nour days, _almost_ always\u2014war is to be regarded as an organic whole,\nfrom which the single branches are not to be separated, in which\ntherefore every individual activity flows into the whole, and also has\nits origin in the idea of this whole, then it becomes certain and\npalpable to us that the superior stand-point for the conduct of the\nwar, from which its leading lines must proceed, can be no other than\nthat of policy.\n\nFrom this point of view the plans come, as it were, out of a cast; the\napprehension of them and the judgment upon them become easier and more\nnatural, our convictions respecting them gain in force, motives are\nmore satisfying, and history more intelligible.\n\nAt all events, from this point of view, there is no longer in the\nnature of things a necessary conflict between the political and\nmilitary interests, and where it appears it is therefore to be regarded\nas imperfect knowledge only. That policy makes demands on the war which\nit cannot respond to, would be contrary to the supposition that it\nknows the instrument which it is going to use, therefore, contrary to a\nnatural and indispensable supposition. But if it judges correctly of\nthe march of military events, it is entirely its affair, and can be its\nonly to determine what are the events and what the direction of events\nmost favourable to the ultimate and great end of the war.\n\nIn one word, the art of war in its highest point of view is policy,\nbut, no doubt, a policy which fights battles, instead of writing notes.\n\nAccording to this view, to leave a great military enterprise, or the\nplan for one, to a _purely military judgment and decision_, is a\ndistinction which cannot be allowed, and is even prejudicial; indeed,\nit is an irrational proceeding to consult professional soldiers on the\nplan of a war, that they may give a _purely military opinion_ upon what\nthe cabinet should do; but still more absurd is the demand of Theorists\nthat a statement of the available means of war should be laid before\nthe general, that he may draw out a purely military plan for the war or\nfor a campaign, in accordance with those means. Experience in general\nalso teaches us that notwithstanding the multifarious branches and\nscientific character of military art in the present day, still the\nleading outlines of a war are always determined by the cabinet, that\nis, if we would use technical language, by a political not a military\nfunctionary.\n\nThis is perfectly natural. None of the principal plans which are\nrequired for a war can be made without an insight into the political\nrelations; and, in reality, when people speak, as they often do, of the\nprejudicial influence of policy on the conduct of a war, they say in\nreality something very different to what they intend. It is not this\ninfluence but the policy itself which should be found fault with. If\npolicy is right, that is, if it succeeds in hitting the object, then it\ncan only act on the war in its sense, with advantage also; and if this\ninfluence of policy causes a divergence from the object, the cause is\nonly to be looked for in a mistaken policy.\n\nIt is only when policy promises itself a wrong effect from certain\nmilitary means and measures, an effect opposed to their nature, that it\ncan exercise a prejudicial effect on war by the course it prescribes.\nJust as a person in a language with which he is not conversant\nsometimes says what he does not intend, so policy, when intending\nright, may often order things which do not tally with its own views.\n\nThis has happened times without end, and it shows that a certain\nknowledge of the nature of war is essential to the management of\npolitical commerce.\n\nBut before going further, we must guard ourselves against a false\ninterpretation of which this is very susceptible. We are far from\nholding the opinion that a war minister, smothered in official papers,\na scientific engineer, or even a soldier who has been well tried in the\nfield, would, any of them, necessarily make the best minister of State\nwhere the sovereign does not act for himself; or in other words, we do\nnot mean to say that this acquaintance with the nature of war is the\nprincipal qualification for a war minister; elevation, superiority of\nmind, strength of character, these are the principal qualifications\nwhich he must possess; a knowledge of war may be supplied in one way or\nthe other. France was never worse advised in its military and political\naffairs than by the two Brothers Belleisle and the Duke of Choiseul,\nalthough all three were good soldiers.\n\nIf war is to harmonise entirely with the political views and policy, to\naccommodate itself to the means available for war, there is only one\nalternative to be recommended when the statesman and soldier are not\ncombined in one person, which is, to make the chief commander a member\nof the cabinet, that he may take part in its councils and decisions on\nimportant occasions. But then again, this is only possible when the\ncabinet, that is the government itself, is near the theatre of war, so\nthat things can be settled without a serious waste of time.\n\nThis is what the Emperor of Austria did in 1809, and the allied\nsovereigns in 1813, 1814, 1815, and the arrangement proved completely\nsatisfactory.\n\nThe influence of any military man except the General-in Chief in the\ncabinet, is extremely dangerous; it very seldom leads to able vigorous\naction. The example of France in 1793, 1794, 1795, when Carnot, while\nresiding in Paris, managed the conduct of the war, is to be avoided, as\na system of terror is not at the command of any but a revolutionary\ngovernment.\n\nWe shall now conclude with some reflections derived from history.\n\nIn the last decennary of the past century, when that remarkable change\nin the art of war in Europe took place by which the best armies found\nthat a part of their method of war had become utterly unserviceable,\nand events were brought about of a magnitude far beyond what any one\nhad any previous conception of, it certainly appeared that a false\ncalculation of everything was to be laid to the charge of the art of\nwar. It was plain that while confined by habit within a narrow circle\nof conceptions, she had been surprised by the force of a new state of\nrelations, lying, no doubt, outside that circle, but still not outside\nthe nature of things.\n\nThose observers who took the most comprehensive view, ascribed the\ncircumstance to the general influence which policy had exercised for\ncenturies on the art of war, and undoubtedly to its very great\ndisadvantage, and by which it had sunk into a half-measure, often into\nmere sham fighting. They were right as to fact, but they were wrong in\nattributing it to something accidental, or which might have been\navoided.\n\nOthers thought that everything was to be explained by the momentary\ninfluence of the particular policy of Austria, Prussia, England, etc.,\nwith regard to their own interests respectively.\n\nBut is it true that the real surprise by which men\u2019s minds were seized,\nwas confined to the conduct of war, and did not rather relate to policy\nitself? That is, as we should say: did the ill success proceed from the\ninfluence of policy on the war, or from a wrong policy itself?\n\nThe prodigious effects of the French revolution abroad were evidently\nbrought about much less through new methods and views introduced by the\nFrench in the conduct of war than through the changes which it wrought\nin state-craft and civil administration, in the character of\ngovernments, in the condition of the people, etc. That other\ngovernments took a mistaken view of all these things; that they\nendeavoured, with their ordinary means, to hold their own against\nforces of a novel kind, and overwhelming in strength; all that was a\nblunder in policy.\n\nWould it have been possible to perceive and mend this error by a scheme\nfor the war from a purely military point of view? Impossible. For if\nthere had been, even in reality, a philosophical strategist, who merely\nfrom the nature of the hostile elements, had foreseen all the\nconsequences, and prophesied remote possibilities, still it would have\nbeen purely impossible to have turned such wisdom to account.\n\nIf policy had risen to a just appreciation of the forces which had\nsprung up in France, and of the new relations in the political state of\nEurope, it might have foreseen the consequences, which must follow in\nrespect to the great features of war, and it was only in this way that\nit could arrive at a correct view of the extent of the means required\nas well as of the best use to make of those means.\n\nWe may therefore say, that the twenty years\u2019 victories of the\nrevolution are chiefly to be ascribed to the erroneous policy of the\ngovernments by which it was opposed.\n\nIt is true these errors first displayed themselves in the war, and the\nevents of the war completely disappointed the expectations which policy\nentertained. But this did not take place because policy neglected to\nconsult its military advisers. That art of war in which the politician\nof the day could believe, namely, that derived from the reality of war\nat that time, that which belonged to the policy of the day, that\nfamiliar instrument which policy had hitherto used\u2014_that_ art of war, I\nsay, was naturally involved in the error of policy, and therefore could\nnot teach it anything better. It is true that war itself underwent\nimportant alterations both in its nature and forms, which brought it\nnearer to its absolute form; but these changes were not brought about\nbecause the French Government had, to a certain extent, delivered\nitself from the leading-strings of policy; they arose from an altered\npolicy, produced by the French Revolution, not only in France, but over\nthe rest of Europe as well. This policy had called forth other means\nand other powers, by which it became possible to conduct war with a\ndegree of energy which could not have been thought of otherwise.\n\nTherefore, the actual changes in the art of war are a consequence of\nalterations in policy; and, so far from being an argument for the\npossible separation of the two, they are, on the contrary, very strong\nevidence of the intimacy of their connexion.\n\nTherefore, once more: war is an instrument of policy; it must\nnecessarily bear its character, it must measure with its scale: the\nconduct of war, in its great features, is therefore policy itself,\nwhich takes up the sword in place of the pen, but does not on that\naccount cease to think according to its own laws.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. Limited Object\u2014Offensive War\n\nEven if the complete overthrow of the enemy cannot be the object, there\nmay still be one which is directly positive, and this positive object\ncan be nothing else than the conquest of a part of the enemy\u2019s country.\n\nThe use of such a conquest is this, that we weaken the enemy\u2019s\nresources generally, therefore, of course, his military power, while we\nincrease our own; that we therefore carry on the war, to a certain\nextent, at his expense; further in this way, that in negotiations for\npeace, the possession of the enemy\u2019s provinces may be regarded as net\ngain, because we can either keep them or exchange them for other\nadvantages.\n\nThis view of a conquest of the enemy\u2019s provinces is very natural, and\nwould be open to no objection if it were not that the defensive\nattitude, which must succeed the offensive, may often cause uneasiness.\n\nIn the chapter on the culminating point of victory we have sufficiently\nexplained the manner in which such an offensive weakens the combatant\nforce, and that it may be succeeded by a situation causing anxiety as\nto the future.\n\nThis weakening of our combatant force by the conquest of part of the\nenemy\u2019s territory has its degrees, and these depend chiefly on the\ngeographical position of this portion of territory. The more it is an\nannex of our own country, being contiguous to or embraced by it, the\nmore it is in the direction of our principal force, by so much the less\nwill it weaken our combatant force. In the Seven Years\u2019 War, Saxony was\na natural complement of the Prussian theatre of war, and Frederick the\nGreat\u2019s army, instead of being weakened, was strengthened by the\npossession of that province, because it lies nearer to Silesia than to\nthe Mark, and at the same time covers the latter.\n\nEven in 1740 and 1741, after Frederick the Great had once conquered\nSilesia, it did not weaken his army in the field, because, owing to its\nform and situation as well as the contour of its frontier line, it only\npresented a narrow point to the Austrians, as long as they were not\nmasters of Saxony, and besides that, this small point of contact also\nlay in the direction of the chief operations of the contending forces.\n\nIf, on the other hand, the conquered territory is a strip running up\nbetween hostile provinces, has an eccentric position and unfavourable\nconfiguration of ground, then the weakening increases so visibly that a\nvictorious battle becomes not only much easier for the enemy, but it\nmay even become unnecessary as well.\n\nThe Austrians have always been obliged to evacuate Provence without a\nbattle when they have made attempts on it from Italy. In the year 1744\nthe French were very well pleased even to get out of Bohemia without\nhaving lost a battle. In 1758 Frederick the Great could not hold his\nposition in Bohemia and Moravia with the same force with which he had\nobtained such brilliant successes in Silesia and Saxony in 1757.\nExamples of armies not being able to keep possession of conquered\nterritory solely because their combatant force was so much weakened\nthereby, are so common that it does not appear necessary to quote any\nmore of them.\n\nTherefore, the question whether we should aim at such an object depends\non whether we can expect to hold possession of the conquest or whether\na temporary occupation (invasion, diversion) would repay the\nexpenditure of force required: especially, whether we have not to\napprehend such a vigorous counterstroke as will completely destroy the\nbalance of forces. In the chapter on the culmination point we have\ntreated of the consideration due to this question in each particular\ncase.\n\nThere is just one point which we have still to add.\n\nAn offensive of this kind will not always compensate us for what we\nlose upon other points. Whilst we are engaged in making a partial\nconquest, the enemy may be doing the same at other points, and if our\nenterprise does not greatly preponderate in importance then it will not\ncompel the enemy to give up his. It is, therefore, a question for\nserious consideration whether we may not lose more than we gain in a\ncase of this description.\n\nEven if we suppose two provinces (one on each side) to be of equal\nvalue, we shall always lose more by the one which the enemy takes from\nus than we can gain by the one we take, because a number of our forces\nbecome to a certain extent like _faux frais_, non-effective. But as the\nsame takes place on the enemy\u2019s side also, one would suppose that in\nreality there is no ground to attach more importance to the maintenance\nof what is our own than to the conquest. But yet there is. The\nmaintenance of our own territory is always a matter which more deeply\nconcerns us, and the suffering inflicted on our own state can not be\noutweighed, nor, to a certain extent, neutralised by what we gain in\nreturn, unless the latter promises a high percentage, that is, is much\ngreater.\n\nThe consequence of all this is that a strategic attack directed against\nonly a moderate object involves a greater necessity for steps to defend\nother points which it does not directly cover than one which is\ndirected against the centre of the enemy\u2019s force; consequently, in such\nan attack the concentration of forces in time and space cannot be\ncarried out to the same extent. In order that it may take place, at\nleast as regards time, it becomes necessary for the advance to be made\noffensively from every point possible, and at the same moment exactly:\nand therefore this attack loses the other advantage of being able to\nmake shift with a much smaller force by acting on the defensive at\nparticular points. In this way the effect of aiming at a minor object\nis to bring all things more to a level: the whole act of the war cannot\nnow be concentrated into one principal affair which can be governed\naccording to leading points of view; it is more dispersed; the friction\nbecomes greater everywhere, and there is everywhere more room for\nchance.\n\nThis is the natural tendency of the thing. The commanders weighed down\nby it, finds himself more and more neutralised. The more he is\nconscious of his own powers, the greater his resources subjectively,\nand his power objectively, so much the more he will seek to liberate\nhimself from this tendency in order to give to some one point a\npreponderating importance, even if that should only be possible by\nrunning greater risks.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. Limited Object\u2014Defence\n\nThe ultimate aim of defensive war can never be an absolute negation, as\nwe have before observed. Even for the weakest there must be some point\nin which the enemy may be made to feel, and which may be threatened.\n\nCertainly we may say that this object is the exhaustion of the\nadversary, for as he has a positive object, every one of his blows\nwhich fails, if it has no other result than the loss of the force\napplied, still may be considered a retrograde step _in reality_, whilst\nthe loss which the defensive suffers is not in vain, because his object\nwas keeping possession, and that he has effected. This would be\ntantamount to saying that the defensive has his positive object in\nmerely keeping possession. Such reasoning might be good if it was\ncertain that the assailant after a certain number of fruitless attempts\nmust be worn out, and desist from further efforts. But just this\nnecessary consequence is wanting. If we look at the exhaustion of\nforces, the defender is under a disadvantage. The assailant becomes\nweaker, but only in the sense that it may reach a turning point; if we\nset aside that supposition, the weakening goes on certainly more\nrapidly on the defensive side than on that of the assailant: for in the\nfirst place, he is the weaker, and, therefore, if the losses on both\nsides are equal, he loses more actually than the other; in the next\nplace, he is deprived generally of a portion of territory and of his\nresources. We have, therefore, here no ground on which to build the\nexpectation that the offensive will cease, and nothing remains but the\nidea that if the assailant repeats his blows, while the defensive does\nnothing but wait to ward them off, then the defender has no\ncounterpoise as a set off to the risk he runs of one of these attacks\nsucceeding sooner or later.\n\nAlthough in reality the exhaustion, or rather the weakening of the\nstronger, has brought about a peace in many instances that is to be\nattributed to the indecision which is so general in war, but cannot be\nimagined philosophically as the general and ultimate object of any\ndefensive war whatever, there is, therefore, no alternative but that\nthe defence should find its object in the idea of the \u201c_waiting for_,\u201d\nwhich is besides its real character. This idea in itself includes that\nof an alteration of circumstances, of an improvement of the situation,\nwhich, therefore, when it cannot be brought about by internal means,\nthat is, by defensive pure in itself, can only be expected through\nassistance coming from without. Now, this improvement from without can\nproceed from nothing else than a change in political relations; either\nnew alliances spring up in favour of the defender, or old ones directed\nagainst him fall to pieces.\n\nHere, then, is the object for the defender, in case his weakness does\nnot permit him to think of any important counterstroke. But this is not\nthe nature of every defensive war, according to the conception which we\nhave given of its form. According to that conception it is the stronger\nform of war, and on account of that strength it can also be applied\nwhen a counterstroke more or less important is designed.\n\nThese two cases must be kept distinct from the very first, as they have\nan influence on the defence.\n\nIn the first case, the defender\u2019s object is to keep possession of his\nown country intact as long as possible, because in that way he gains\nmost time; and gaining time is the only way to attain his object. The\npositive object which he can in most cases attain, and which will give\nhim an opportunity of carrying out his object in the negotiations for\npeace, he cannot yet include in his plan for the war. In this state of\nstrategic passiveness, the advantages which the defender can gain at\ncertain points consist in merely repelling partial attacks; the\npreponderance gained at those points he tries to make of service to him\nat others, for he is generally hard pressed at all points. If he has\nnot the opportunity of doing this, then there often only accrues to him\nthe small advantage that the enemy will leave him at rest for a time.\n\nIf the defender is not altogether too weak, small offensive operations\ndirected less towards permanent possession than a temporary advantage\nto cover losses, which may be sustained afterwards, invasions,\ndiversions, or enterprises against a single fortress, may have a place\nin this defensive system without altering its object or essence.\n\nBut in the second case, in which a positive object is already grafted\nupon the defensive, the greater the counterstroke that is warranted by\ncircumstances the more the defensive imports into itself of positive\ncharacter. In other words, the more the defence has been adopted\nvoluntarily, in order to make the first blow surer, the bolder may be\nthe snares which the defender lays for his opponent. The boldest, and\nif it succeeds, the most effectual, is the retreat into the interior of\nthe country; and this means is then at the same time that which differs\nmost widely from the other system.\n\nLet us only think of the difference between the position in which\nFrederick the Great was placed in the Seven Years\u2019 War, and that of\nRussia in 1812.\n\nWhen the war began, Frederick, through his advanced state of\npreparation for war, had a kind of superiority, this gave him the\nadvantage of being able to make himself master of Saxony, which was\nbesides such a natural complement of his theatre of war, that the\npossession of it did not diminish, but increased, his combatant force.\n\nAt the opening of the campaign of 1757, the King endeavoured to proceed\nwith his strategic attack, which seemed not impossible as long as the\nRussians and French had not yet reached the theatre of war in Silesia,\nthe Mark and Saxony. But the attack miscarried, and Frederick was\nthrown back on the defensive for the rest of the campaign, was obliged\nto evacuate Bohemia and to rescue his own theatre from the enemy, in\nwhich he only succeeded by turning himself with one and the same army,\nfirst upon the French, and then upon the Austrians. This advantage he\nowed entirely to the defensive.\n\nIn the year 1758 when his enemies had drawn round him in a closer\ncircle, and his forces were dwindling down to a very disproportionate\nrelation, he determined on an offensive on a small scale in Moravia:\nhis plan was to take Olm\u00fctz before his enemies were prepared; not in\nthe expectation of keeping possession of, or of making it a base for\nfurther advance, but to use it as a sort of advanced work, a\n_counter-approach_ against the Austrians, who would be obliged to\ndevote the rest of the present campaign, and perhaps even a second, to\nrecover possession of it. This attack also miscarried. Frederick then\ngave up all idea of a real offensive, as he saw that it only increased\nthe disproportion of his army. A compact position in the heart of his\nown country in Saxony and Silesia, the use of short lines, that he\nmight be able rapidly to increase his forces at any point which might\nbe menaced, a battle when unavoidable, small incursions when\nopportunity offered, and along with this a patient state of waiting-for\n(expectation), a saving of his means for better times became now his\ngeneral plan. By degrees the execution of it became more and more\npassive. As he saw that even a victory cost him too much, therefore he\ntried to manage at still less expense; everything depended on gaining\ntime, and on keeping what he had got; he therefore became more\ntenacious of yielding any ground, and did not hesitate to adopt a\nperfect cordon system. The positions of Prince Henry in Saxony, as well\nas those of the King in the Silesian mountains, may be so termed. In\nhis letters to the Marquis d\u2019Argens, he manifests the impatience with\nwhich he looks forward to winter quarters, and the satisfaction he felt\nat being able to take them up again without having suffered any serious\nloss.\n\nWhoever blames Frederick for this, and looks upon it as a sign that his\nspirit had sunk, would, we think, pass judgment without much\nreflection.\n\nIf the entrenched camp at Bunzelwitz, the positions taken up by Prince\nHenry in Saxony, and by the King in the Silesian mountains, do not\nappear to us now as measures on which a General should place his\ndependence in a last extremity because a Buonaparte would soon have\nthrust his sword through such tactical cobwebs, we must not forget that\ntimes have changed, that war has become a totally different thing, is\nquickened with new energies, and that therefore positions might have\nbeen excellent at that time, although they are not so now, and that in\naddition to all, the character of the enemy deserves attention. Against\nthe army of the German States, against Daun and Butturlin, it might\nhave been the height of wisdom to employ means which Frederick would\nhave despised if used against himself.\n\nThe result justified this view: in the state of patient expectation,\nFrederick attained his object, and got round difficulties in a\ncollision with which his forces would have been dashed to pieces.\n\nThe relation in point of numbers between the Russian and French armies\nopposed to each other at the opening of the campaign in 1812 was still\nmore unfavourable to the former than that between Frederick and his\nenemies in the Seven Years\u2019 War. But the Russians looked forward to\nbeing joined by large reinforcements in the course of the campaign. All\nEurope was in secret hostility to Buonaparte, his power had been\nscrewed up to the highest point, a devouring war occupied him in Spain,\nand the vast extent of Russia allowed of pushing the exhaustion of the\nenemy\u2019s military means to the utmost extremity by a retreat over a\nhundred miles of country. Under circumstances on this grand scale, a\ntremendous counterstroke was not only to be expected if the French\nenterprise failed (and how could it succeed if the Russian Emperor\nwould not make peace, or his subjects did not rise in insurrection?)\nbut this counterstroke might also end in the complete destruction of\nthe enemy. The most profound sagacity could, therefore, not have\ndevised a better plan of campaign than that which the Russians followed\non the spur of the moment.\n\nThat this was not the opinion at the time, and that such a view would\nthen have been looked upon as preposterous, is no reason for our now\ndenying it to be the right one. If we are to learn from history, we\nmust look upon things which have actually happened as also possible in\nthe future, and that the series of great events which succeeded the\nmarch upon Moscow is not a succession of mere accidents every one will\ngrant who can claim to give an opinion on such subjects. If it had been\npossible for the Russians, with great efforts, to defend their\nfrontier, it is certainly probable that in such case also the French\npower would have sunk, and that they would have at last suffered a\nreverse of fortune; but the reaction then would certainly not have been\nso violent and decisive. By sufferings and sacrifices (which certainly\nin any other country would have been greater, and in most would have\nbeen impossible) Russia purchased this enormous success.\n\nThus a great positive success can never be obtained except through\npositive measures, planned not with a view to a mere state of\n\u201cwaiting-for,\u201d but with a view to a _decision_, in short, even on the\ndefensive, there is no great gain to be won except by a great stake.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. Plan of War when the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object\n\nHaving characterised in detail the different aims to which war may be\ndirected, we shall go through the organisation of war as a whole for\neach of the three separate gradations corresponding to these aims.\n\nIn conformity with all that has been said on the subject up to the\npresent, two fundamental principles reign throughout the whole plan of\nthe war, and serve as a guide for everything else.\n\nThe first is: to reduce the weight of the enemy\u2019s power into as few\ncentres of gravity as possible, into one if it can be done; again, to\nconfine the attack against these centres of force to as few principal\nundertakings as possible, to one if possible; lastly, to keep all\nsecondary undertakings as subordinate as possible. In a word, the first\nprinciple is, _to act concentrated as much as possible_.\n\nThe second principle runs thus _to act as swiftly as possible;_\ntherefore, to allow of no delay or detour without sufficient reason.\n\nThe reducing the enemy\u2019s power to one central point depends\n\n1. On the nature of its political connection. If it consists of armies\nof one Power, there is generally no difficulty; if of allied armies, of\nwhich one is acting simply as an ally without any interest of its own,\nthen the difficulty is not much greater; if of a coalition for a common\nobject, then it depends on the cordiality of the alliance; we have\nalready treated of this subject.\n\n2. On the situation of the theatre of war upon which the different\nhostile armies make their appearance.\n\nIf the enemy\u2019s forces are collected in one army upon one theatre of\nwar, they constitute in reality a unity, and we need not inquire\nfurther; if they are upon one theatre of war, but in separate armies,\nwhich belong to different Powers, there is no longer absolute unity;\nthere is, however, a sufficient interdependence of parts for a decisive\nblow upon one part to throw down the other in the concussion. If the\narmies are posted in theatres of war adjoining each other, and not\nseparated by any great natural obstacles, then there is in such case\nalso a decided influence of the one upon the other; but if the theatres\nof war are wide apart, if there is neutral territory, great mountains,\netc., intervening between them, then the influence is very doubtful and\nimprobable as well; if they are on quite opposite sides of the State\nagainst which the war is made, so that operations directed against them\nmust diverge on eccentric lines, then almost every trace of connection\nis at an end.\n\nIf Prussia was attacked by France and Russia at the same time, it would\nbe as respects the conduct of the war much the same as if there were\ntwo separate wars; at the same time the unity would appear in the\nnegotiations.\n\nSaxony and Austria, on the contrary, as military powers in the Seven\nYears\u2019 War, were to be regarded as one; what the one suffered the other\nfelt also, partly because the theatres of war lay in the same direction\nfor Frederick the Great, partly because Saxony had no political\nindependence.\n\nNumerous as were the enemies of Buonaparte in Germany in 1813, still\nthey all stood very much in one direction in respect to him, and the\ntheatres of war for their armies were in close connection, and\nreciprocally influenced each other very powerfully. If by a\nconcentration of all his forces he had been able to overpower the main\narmy, such a defeat would have had a decisive effect on all the parts.\nIf he had beaten the Bohemain grand army, and marched upon Vienna by\nPrague, Bl\u00fccher, however willing, could not have remained in Saxony,\nbecause he would have been called upon to co-operate in Bohemia, and\nthe Crown Prince of Sweden as well would have been unwilling to remain\nin the Mark.\n\nOn the other hand, Austria, if carrying on war against the French on\nthe Rhine and Italy at the same time, will always find it difficult to\ngive a decision upon one of those theatres by means of a successful\nstroke on the other. Partly because Switzerland, with its mountains,\nforms too strong a barrier between the two theatres, and partly because\nthe direction of the roads on each side is divergent. France, again,\ncan much sooner decide in the one by a successful result in the other,\nbecause the direction of its forces in both converges upon Vienna, the\ncentre of the power of the whole Austrian empire; we may add further,\nthat a decisive blow in Italy will have more effect on the Rhine\ntheatre than a success on the Rhine would have in Italy, because the\nblow from Italy strikes nearer to the centre, and that from the Rhine\nmore upon the flank, of the Austrian dominions.\n\nIt proceeds from what we have said that the conception of separated or\nconnected hostile power extends through all degrees of relationship,\nand that therefore, in each case, the first thing is to discover the\ninfluence which events in one theatre may have upon the other,\naccording to which we may then afterwards settle how far the different\nforces of the enemy may be reduced into one centre of force.\n\nThere is only one exception to the principle of directing all our\nstrength against the centre of gravity of the enemy\u2019s power, that is,\nif ancillary expeditions promise _extraordinary advantages_, and still,\nin this case, it is a condition assumed, that we have such a decisive\nsuperiority as enables us to undertake such enterprises without\nincurring too great risk at the point which forms our great object.\n\nWhen General Bulow marched into Holland in 1814, it was to be foreseen\nthat the thirty thousand men composing his corps would not only\nneutralise the same number of Frenchmen, but would, besides, give the\nEnglish and the Dutch an opportunity of entering the field with forces\nwhich otherwise would never have been brought into activity.\n\nThus, therefore, the first consideration in the combination of a plan\nfor a war, is to determine the centres of gravity of the enemy\u2019s power,\nand, if possible, to reduce them to one. The second is to unite the\nforces which are to be employed against the centre of force into one\ngreat action.\n\nHere now the following grounds for dividing our forces may present\nthemselves:\n\n1. The original position of the military forces, therefore also the\nsituation of the States engaged in the offensive.\n\nIf the concentration of the forces would occasion detours and loss of\ntime, and the danger of advancing by separate lines is not too great,\nthen the same may be justifiable on those grounds; for to effect an\nunnecessary concentration of forces, with great loss of time, by which\nthe freshness and rapidity of the first blow is diminished, would be\ncontrary to the second leading principle we have laid down. In all\ncases in which there is a hope of surprising the enemy in some measure,\nthis deserves particular attention.\n\nBut the case becomes still more important if the attack is undertaken\nby allied States which are not situated on a line directed towards the\nState attacked not one behind the other but situated side by side. If\nPrussia and Austria undertook a war against France, it would be a very\nerroneous measure, a squandering of time and force if the armies of the\ntwo powers were obliged to set out from the same point, as the natural\nline for an army operating from Prussia against the heart of France is\nfrom the Lower Rhine, and that of the Austrians is from the Upper\nRhine. Concentration, therefore, in this case, could only be effected\nby a sacrifice; consequently in any particular instance, the question\nto be decided would be, Is the necessity for concentration so great\nthat this sacrifice must be made?\n\n2. The attack by separate lines may offer greater results.\n\nAs we are now speaking of advancing by separate lines against one\ncentre of force, we are, therefore, supposing an advance by _converging\nlines_. A separate advance on parallel or eccentric lines belongs to\nthe rubric of _accessory undertakings_, of which we have already\nspoken.\n\nNow, every convergent attack in strategy, as well as in tactics, holds\nout the prospect of great results; for if it succeeds, the consequence\nis not simply a defeat, but more or less the cutting off of the enemy.\nThe concentric attack is, therefore, always that which may lead to the\ngreatest results; but on account of the separation of the parts of the\nforce, and the enlargement of the theatre of war, it involves also the\nmost risk; it is the same here as with attack and defence, the weaker\nform holds out the greater results in prospect.\n\nThe question, therefore, is, whether the assailant feels strong enough\nto try for this great result.\n\nWhen Frederick the Great advanced upon Bohemia, in the year 1757, he\nset out from Saxony and Silesia with his forces divided. The two\nprincipal reasons for his doing so were, first, that his forces were so\ncantoned in the winter that a concentration of them at one point would\nhave divested the attack of all the advantages of a surprise; and next,\nthat by this concentric advance, each of the two Austrian theatres of\nwar was threatened in the flanks and the rear. The danger to which\nFrederick the Great exposed himself on that occasion was that one of\nhis two armies might have been completely defeated by superior forces;\nshould the Austrians _not see this_, then they would have to give\nbattle with their centre only, or run the risk of being thrown off\ntheir line of communication, either on one side or the other, and\nmeeting with a catastrophe; this was the great result which the king\nhoped for by this advance. The Austrians preferred the battle in the\ncentre, but Prague, where they took up their position, was in a\nsituation too much under the influence of the convergent attack, which,\nas they remained perfectly passive in their position, had time to\ndevelop its efficacy to the utmost. The consequence of this was that\nwhen they lost the battle, it was a complete catastrophe; as is\nmanifest from the fact that two-thirds of the army with the\ncommander-in-chief were obliged to shut themselves up in Prague.\n\nThis brilliant success at the opening of the campaign was attained by\nthe bold stroke with a concentric attack. If Frederick considered the\nprecision of his own movements, the energy of his generals, the moral\nsuperiority of his troops, on the one side, and the sluggishness of the\nAustrians on the other, as sufficient to ensure the success of his\nplan, who can blame him? But as we cannot leave these moral advantages\nout of consideration, neither can we ascribe the success solely to the\nmere geometrical form of the attack. Let us only think of the not less\nbrilliant campaign of Buonaparte\u2019s, in the year 1796, when the\nAustrians were so severely punished for their concentric march into\nItaly. The means which the French general had at command on that\noccasion, the Austrian general had also at his disposal in 1757 (with\nthe exception of the moral), indeed, he had rather more, for he was\nnot, like Buonaparte, weaker than his adversary. Therefore, when it is\nto be apprehended that the advance on separate converging lines may\nafford the enemy the means of counteracting the inequality of numerical\nforces by using interior lines, such a form of attack is not advisable;\nand if on account of the situation of the belligerents, it must be\nresorted to, it can only be regarded as a necessary evil.\n\nIf, from this point of view, we cast our eyes on the plan which was\nadopted for the invasion of France in 1814, it is impossible to give it\napproval. The Russian, Austrian, and Prussian armies were concentrated\nat a point near Frankfort on the Maine, on the most natural and most\ndirect line to the centre of the force of the French monarchy. These\narmies were then separated, that one might penetrate into France from\nMayence, the other from Switzerland. As the enemy\u2019s force was so\nreduced that a defence of the frontier was out of the question, the\nwhole advantage to be expected from this concentric advance, if it\nsucceeded, was that while Lorraine and Alsace were conquered by one\narmy, Franche-Comte would be taken by the other. Was this trifling\nadvantage worth the trouble of marching into Switzerland? We know very\nwell that there were other (but just as insufficient) grounds which\ncaused this march; but we confine ourselves here to the point which we\nare considering.\n\nOn the other side, Buonaparte was a man who thoroughly understood the\ndefensive to oppose to a concentric attack, as he had already shown in\nhis masterly campaign of 1796; and although the Allies were very\nconsiderably superior in numbers, yet the preponderance due to his\nsuperiority as a general was on all occasions acknowledged. He joined\nhis army too late near Chalons, and looked down rather too much,\ngenerally, on his opponents, still he was very near hitting the two\narmies separately; and what was the state he found them in at Brienne?\nBl\u00fccher had only 27,000 of his 65,000 men with him, and the great army,\nout of 200,000, had only 100,000 present. It was impossible to make a\nbetter game for the adversary. And from the moment that active work\nbegan, no greater want was felt than that of re-union.\n\nAfter all these reflections, we think that although the concentric\nattack is in itself a means of obtaining greater results, still it\nshould generally only proceed from a previous separation of the parts\ncomposing the whole force, and that there are few cases in which we\nshould do right in giving up the shortest and most direct line of\noperation for the sake of adopting that form.\n\n3. The breadth of a theatre of war can be a motive for attacking on\nseparate lines.\n\nIf an army on the offensive in its advance from any point, penetrates\nwith success to some distance into the interior of the enemy\u2019s country,\nthen, certainly, the space which it commands is not restricted exactly\nto the line of road by which it marches, it will command a margin on\neach side; still that will depend very much, if we may use the figure,\non the solidity and cohesion of the opposing State. If the State only\nhangs loosely together, if its people are an effeminate race\nunaccustomed to war, then, without our taking much trouble, a\nconsiderable extent of country will open behind our victorious army;\nbut if we have to deal with a brave and loyal population, the space\nbehind our army will form a triangle, more or less acute.\n\nIn order to obviate this evil, the attacking force requires to regulate\nits advance on a certain width of front. If the enemy\u2019s force is\nconcentrated at a particular point, this breadth of front can only be\npreserved so long as we are not in contact with the enemy, and must be\ncontracted as we approach his position: that is easy to understand.\n\nBut if the enemy himself has taken up a position with a certain extent\nof front, then there is nothing absurd in a corresponding extension on\nour part. We speak here of one theatre of war, or of several, if they\nare quite close to each other. Obviously this is, therefore, the case\nwhen, according to our view, the chief operation is, at the same time,\nto be decisive on subordinate points\n\nBut now can we _always_ run the chance of this? And may we expose\nourselves to the danger which must arise if the influence of the chief\noperation is not sufficient to decide at the minor points? Does not the\nwant of a certain breadth for a theatre of war deserve special\nconsideration?\n\nHere as well as everywhere else it is impossible to exhaust the number\nof combinations which _may take_ place; but we maintain that, with few\nexceptions, the decision on the capital point will carry with it the\ndecision on all minor points. Therefore, the action should be regulated\nin conformity with this principle, in all cases in which the contrary\nis not evident.\n\nWhen Buonaparte invaded Russia, he had good reason to believe that by\nconquering the main body of the Russian army he would compel their\nforces on the Upper Dwina to succumb. He left at first only the corps\nof Oudinot to oppose them, but Wittgenstein assumed the offensive, and\nBuonaparte was then obliged to send also the sixth corps to that\nquarter.\n\nOn the other hand, at the beginning of the campaign, he directed a part\nof his forces against Bagration; but that general was carried along by\nthe influence of the backward movement in the centre, and Buonaparte\nwas enabled then to recall that part of his forces. If Wittgenstein had\nnot had to cover the second capital, he would also have followed the\nretreat of the great army under Barclay.\n\nIn the years 1805 and 1809, Buonaparte\u2019s victories at Ulm and Ratisbon\ndecided matters in Italy and also in the Tyrol, although the first was\nrather a distant theatre, and an independent one in itself. In the year\n1806, his victories at Jena and Auerstadt were decisive in respect to\neverything that might have been attempted against him in Westphalia and\nHesse, or on the Frankfort road.\n\nAmongst the number of circumstances which may have an influence on the\nresistance at secondary points, there are two which are the most\nprominent.\n\nThe first is: that in a country of vast extent, and also relatively of\ngreat power, like Russia, we can put off the decisive blow at the chief\npoint for some time, and are not obliged to do all in a hurry.\n\nThe second is: when a minor point (like Silesia in the year 1806),\nthrough a great number of fortresses, possesses an extraordinary degree\nof independent strength. And yet Buonaparte treated that point with\ngreat contempt, inasmuch as, when he had to leave such a point\ncompletely in his rear on the march to Warsaw, he only detached 20,000\nmen under his brother Jerome to that quarter.\n\nIf it happens that the blow at the capital point, in all probability,\nwill not shake such a secondary point, or has not done so, and if the\nenemy has still forces at that point, then to these, as a necessary\nevil, an adequate force must be opposed, because no one can absolutely\nlay open his line of communication from the very commencement.\n\nBut prudence may go a step further; it may require that the advance\nupon the chief point shall keep pace with that on the secondary points,\nand consequently the principal undertaking must be delayed whenever the\nsecondary points will not succumb.\n\nThis principle does not directly contradict ours as to uniting all\naction as far as possible in one great undertaking, but the spirit from\nwhich it springs is diametrically opposed to the spirit in which ours\nis conceived. By following such a principle there would be such a\nmeasured pace in the movements, such a paralysation of the impulsive\nforce, such room for the freak of chance, and such a loss of time, as\nwould be practically perfectly inconsistent with an offensive directed\nto the complete overthrow of the enemy.\n\nThe difficulty becomes still greater if the forces stationed at these\nminor points can retire on divergent lines. What would then become of\nthe unity of our attack?\n\nWe must, therefore, declare ourselves completely opposed in principle\nto the dependence of the chief attack on minor attacks, and we maintain\nthat an attack directed to the destruction of the enemy which has not\nthe boldness to shoot, like the point of an arrow, direct at the heart\nof the enemy\u2019s power, can never hit the mark.\n\n4. Lastly, there is still a fourth ground for a separate advance in the\nfacility which it may afford for subsistence.\n\nIt is certainly much pleasanter to march with a small army through an\nopulent country, than with a large army through a poor one; but by\nsuitable measures, and with an army accustomed to privations, the\nlatter is not impossible, and, therefore, the first should never have\nsuch an influence on our plans as to lead us into a great danger.\n\nWe have now done justice to the grounds for a separation of forces\nwhich divides the chief operation into several, and if the separation\ntakes place on any of these grounds, with a distinct conception of the\nobject, and after due consideration of the advantages and\ndisadvantages, we shall not venture to find fault.\n\nBut if, as usually happens, a plan is drawn out by a learned general\nstaff, merely according to routine; if different theatres of war, like\nthe squares on a chess board, must each have its piece first placed on\nit before the moves begin, if these moves approach the aim in\ncomplicated lines and relations by dint of an imaginary profundity in\nthe art of combination, if the armies are to separate to-day in order\nto apply all their skill in reuniting at the greatest risk in fourteen\ndays then we have a perfect horror of this abandonment of the direct\nsimple common-sense road to rush intentionally into absolute confusion.\nThis folly happens more easily the less the general-in-chief directs\nthe war, and conducts it in the sense which we have pointed out in the\nfirst chapter as an act of his individuality invested with\nextraordinary powers; the more, therefore, the whole plan is\nmanufactured by an inexperienced staff, and from the ideas of a dozen\nsmatterers.\n\nWe have still now to consider the third part of our first principle;\nthat is, to keep the subordinate parts as much as possible in\nsubordination.\n\nWhilst we endeavour to refer the whole of the operations of a war to\none single aim, and try to attain this as far as possible by _one great\neffort_, we deprive the other points of contact of the States at war\nwith each other of a part of their independence; they become\nsubordinate actions. If we could concentrate everything absolutely into\none action, then those points of contact would be completely\nneutralised; but this is seldom possible, and, therefore, what we have\nto do is to keep them so far within bounds, that they shall not cause\nthe abstraction of too many forces from the main action.\n\nNext, we maintain that the plan of the war itself should have this\ntendency, even if it is not possible to reduce the whole of the enemy\u2019s\nresistance to one point; consequently, in case we are placed in the\nposition already mentioned, of carrying on two almost quite separate\nwars at the same time, the one must always be looked upon as the\n_principal affair_ to which our forces and activity are to be chiefly\ndevoted.\n\nIn this view, it is advisable only to proceed _offensively_ against\nthat one principal point, and to preserve the defensive upon all the\nothers. The attack there being only justifiable when invited by very\nexceptional circumstances.\n\nFurther we are to carry on this defensive, which takes place at minor\npoints, with as few troops as possible, and to seek to avail ourselves\nof every advantage which the defensive form can give.\n\nThis view applies with still more force to all theatres of war on which\narmies come forward belonging to different powers really, but still\nsuch as will be struck when the general centre of force is struck.\n\nBut against _the enemy_ at whom the great blow is aimed, there must be,\naccording to this, no defensive on minor theatres of war. The chief\nattack itself, and the secondary attacks, which for other reasons are\ncombined with it, make up this blow, and make every defensive, on\npoints not directly covered by it, superfluous. All depends on this\nprincipal attack; by it every loss will be compensated. If the forces\nare sufficient to make it reasonable to seek for that great decision,\nthen the _possibility of failure_ can be no ground for guarding oneself\nagainst injury at other points in any event; for just by _such a\ncourse_ this failure will become more probable, and it therefore\nconstitutes here a contradiction in our action.\n\nThis same predominance of the principal action over the minor, must be\nthe principle observed in each of the separate branches of the attack.\nBut as there are generally ulterior motives which determine what forces\nshall advance from one theatre of war, and what from another against\nthe common centre of the enemy\u2019s power, we only mean here that there\nmust be an _effort to make the chief action over-ruling_, for\neverything will become simpler and less subject to the influence of\nchance events the nearer this state of preponderance can be attained.\n\nThe second principle concerns the rapid use of the forces.\n\nEvery unnecessary expenditure of time, every unnecessary detour, is a\nwaste of power, and therefore contrary to the principles of strategy.\n\nIt is most important to bear always in mind that almost the only\nadvantage which the offensive possesses, is the effect of surprise at\nthe opening of the scene. Suddenness and irresistible impetuosity are\nits strongest pinions; and when the object is the complete overthrow of\nthe enemy, it can rarely dispense with them.\n\nBy this, therefore, theory demands the shortest way to the object, and\ncompletely excludes from consideration endless discussions about right\nand left here and there.\n\nIf we call to mind what was said in the chapter on the subject of the\nstrategic attack respecting the pit of the stomach in a state, and\nfurther, what appears in the fourth chapter of this book, on the\ninfluence of time, we believe no further argument is required to prove\nthat the influence which we claim for that principle really belongs to\nit.\n\nBuonaparte never acted otherwise. The shortest high road from army to\narmy, from one capital to another, was always the way he loved best.\n\nAnd in what will now consist the principal action to which we have\nreferred everything, and for which we have demanded a swift and\nstraightforward execution?\n\nIn the fourth chapter we have explained as far as it is possible in a\ngeneral way what the total overthrow of the enemy means, and it is\nunnecessary to repeat it. Whatever that may depend on at last in\nparticular cases, still the first step is always the same in all cases,\nnamely: _The destruction of the enemy\u2019s combatant force_, that is, _a\ngreat victory over the same and its dispersion_. The sooner, which\nmeans the nearer our own frontiers, this victory is sought for, _the\neasier_ it is; the later, that is, the further in the heart of the\nenemy\u2019s country it is gained, the more _decisive_ it is. Here, as well\nas everywhere, the facility of success and its magnitude balance each\nother.\n\nIf we are not so superior to the enemy that the victory is beyond\ndoubt, then we should, when possible, seek him out, that is his\nprincipal force. We say _when possible_, for if this endeavour to find\nhim led to great detours, false directions, and a loss of time, it\nmight very likely turn out a mistake. If the enemy\u2019s principal force is\nnot on our road, and our interests otherwise prevent our going in quest\nof him, we may be sure we shall meet with him hereafter, for he will\nnot fail to place himself in our way. We shall then, as we have just\nsaid, fight under less advantageous circumstances an evil to which we\nmust submit. However, if we gain the battle, it will be so much the\nmore decisive.\n\nFrom this it follows that, in the case now assumed, it would be an\nerror to pass by the enemy\u2019s principal force designedly, if it places\nitself in our way, at least if we expect thereby to facilitate a\nvictory.\n\nOn the other hand, it follows from what precedes, that if we have a\ndecided superiority over the enemy\u2019s principal force, we may designedly\npass it by in order at a future time to deliver a more decisive battle.\n\nWe have been speaking of a complete victory, therefore of a thorough\ndefeat of the enemy, and not of a mere battle gained. But such a\nvictory requires an enveloping attack, or a battle with an oblique\nfront, for these two forms always give the result a decisive character.\nIt is therefore an essential part of a plan of a war to make\narrangements for this movement, both as regards the mass of forces\nrequired and the direction to be given them, of which more will be said\nin the chapter on the plan of campaign.\n\nIt is certainly not impossible, that even Battles fought with parallel\nfronts may lead to complete defeats, and cases in point are not wanting\nin military history; but such an event is uncommon, and will be still\nmore so the more armies become on a par as regards discipline and\nhandiness in the field. We no longer take twenty-one battalions in a\nvillage, as they did at Blenheim.\n\nOnce the great victory is gained, the next question is not about rest,\nnot about taking breath, not about considering, not about reorganising,\netc., etc., but only of pursuit of fresh blows wherever necessary, of\nthe capture of the enemy\u2019s capital, of the attack of the armies of his\nallies, or of whatever else appears to be a rallying point for the\nenemy.\n\nIf the tide of victory carries us near the enemy\u2019s fortresses, the\nlaying siege to them or not will depend on our means. If we have a\ngreat superiority of force, it would be a loss of time not to take them\nas soon as possible; but if we are not certain of the further events\nbefore us, we must keep the fortresses in check with as few troops as\npossible, which precludes any regular formal sieges. The moment that\nthe siege of a fortress compels us to suspend our strategic advance,\nthat advance, _as a rule_, has reached its culminating point. We\ndemand, therefore, that the main body should press forward rapidly in\npursuit without any rest; we have already condemned the idea of\nallowing the advance towards the principal point being made dependent\non success at secondary points; the consequence of this is, that in all\nordinary cases, our chief army only keeps behind it a narrow strip of\nterritory which it can call its own, and which therefore constitutes\nits theatre of war. How this weakens the momentum at the head, and the\ndangers for the offensive arising therefrom, we have shown already.\nWill not this difficulty, will not this intrinsic counterpoise come to\na point which impedes further advance? Certainly that may occur; but\njust as we have already insisted that it would be a mistake to try to\navoid this contracted theatre of war at the commencement, and for the\nsake of that object to rob the advance of its elasticity, so we also\nnow maintain, that as long as the commander has not yet overthrown his\nopponent, as long as he considers himself strong enough to effect that\nobject, so long must he also pursue it. He does so perhaps at an\nincreased risk, but also with the prospect of a greater success. If he\nreaches a point which he cannot venture to go beyond, where, in order\nto protect his rear, he must extend himself right and left well, then,\nthis is most probably his culminating point. The power of flight is\nspent, and if the enemy is not subdued, most probably he will not be\nnow.\n\nAll that the assailant now does to intensify his attack by conquest of\nfortresses, defiles, provinces, is no doubt still a slow advance, but\nit is only of a relative kind, it is no longer absolute. The enemy is\nno longer in flight, he is perhaps preparing a renewed resistance, and\nit is therefore already possible that, although the assailant still\nadvances intensively, the position of the defence is every day\nimproving. In short, we come back to this, that, as a rule, there is no\nsecond spring after a halt has once been necessary.\n\nTheory, therefore, only requires that, as long as there is an intention\nof destroying the enemy, there must be no cessation in the advance of\nthe attack; if the commander gives up this object because it is\nattended with too great a risk, he does right to stop and extend his\nforce. Theory only objects to this when he does it with a view to more\nreadily defeating the enemy.\n\nWe are not so foolish as to maintain that no instance can be found of\nStates having been _gradually_ reduced to the utmost extremity. In the\nfirst place, the principle we now maintain is no absolute truth, to\nwhich an exception is impossible, but one founded only on the ordinary\nand probable result; next, we must make a distinction between cases in\nwhich the downfall of a State has been effected by a slow gradual\nprocess, and those in which the event was the result of a first\ncampaign. We are here only treating of the latter case, for it is only\nin such that there is that tension of forces which either overcomes the\ncentre of gravity of the weight, or is in danger of being overcome by\nit. If in the first year we gain a moderate advantage, to which in the\nfollowing we add another, and thus gradually advance towards our\nobject, there is nowhere very imminent danger, but it is distributed\nover many points. Each pause between one result and another gives the\nenemy fresh chances: the effects of the first results have very little\ninfluence on those which follow, often none, often a negative only,\nbecause the enemy recovers himself, or is perhaps excited to increased\nresistance, or obtains foreign aid; whereas, when all is done in one\nmarch, the success of yesterday brings on with itself that of to-day,\none brand lights itself from another. If there are cases in which\nStates have been overcome by successive blows in which, consequently,\n_Time_, generally the patron of the defensive, has proved adverse how\ninfinitely more numerous are the instances in which the designs of the\naggressor have by that means utterly failed. Let us only think of the\nresult of the Seven Years\u2019 War, in which the Austrians sought to attain\ntheir object so comfortably, cautiously, and prudently, that they\ncompletely missed it.\n\nIn this view, therefore, we cannot at all join in the opinion that the\ncare which belongs to the preparation of a theatre of war, and the\nimpulse which urges us onwards, are on a level in importance, and that\nthe former must, to a certain extent, be a counterpoise to the latter;\nbut we look upon any evil which springs out of the forward movement, as\nan unavoidable evil which only deserves attention when there is no\nlonger hope for us a-head by the forward movement.\n\nBuonaparte\u2019s case in 1812, very far from shaking our opinion, has\nrather confirmed us in it.\n\nHis campaign did not miscarry because he advanced too swiftly, or too\nfar, as is commonly believed, but because the only means of success\nfailed. The Russian Empire is no country which can be regularly\nconquered, that is to say, which can be held in possession, at least\nnot by the forces of the present States of Europe, nor by the 500,000\nmen with which Buonaparte invaded the country. Such a country can only\nbe subdued by its own weakness, and by the effects of internal\ndissension. In order to strike these vulnerable points in its political\nexistence, the country must be agitated to its very centre. It was only\nby reaching Moscow with the force of his blow that Buonaparte could\nhope to shake the courage of the Government, the loyalty and\nsteadfastness of the people. In Moscow he expected to find peace, and\nthis was the only rational object which he could set before himself in\nundertaking such a war.\n\nHe therefore led his main body against that of the Russians, which fell\nback before him, trudged past the camp at Drissa, and did not stop\nuntil it reached Smolensk. He carried Bagration along in his movement,\nbeat the principal Russia army, and took Moscow.\n\nHe acted on this occasion as he had always done: it was only in that\nway that he made himself the arbiter of Europe, and only in that way\nwas it possible for him to do so.\n\nHe, therefore, who admires Buonaparte in all his earlier campaigns as\nthe greatest of generals, ought not to censure him in this instance.\n\nIt is quite allowable to judge an event according to the result, as\nthat is the best criticism upon it (see fifth chapter, 2nd book), but\nthis judgment derived merely from the result, must not then be passed\noff as evidence of superior understanding. To seek out the causes of\nthe failure of a campaign, is not going the length of making a\ncriticism upon it; it is only if we show that these causes should\nneither have been overlooked nor disregarded that we make a criticism\nand place ourselves above the General.\n\nNow we maintain that any one who pronounces the campaign of 1812 an\nabsurdity merely on account of the tremendous reaction in it, and who,\nif it had been successful, would look upon it as a most splendid\ncombination, shows an utter incapacity of judgment.\n\nIf Buonaparte had remained in Lithuania, as most of his critics think\nhe should, in order first to get possession of the fortresses, of\nwhich, moreover, except Riga, situated quite at one side, there is\nhardly one, because Bobruisk is a small insignificant place of arms, he\nwould have involved himself for the winter in a miserable defensive\nsystem: then the same people would have been the first to exclaim, This\nis not the old Buonaparte! How is it, he has not got even as far as a\nfirst great battle? he who used to put the final seal to his conquests\non the last ramparts of the enemy\u2019s states, by victories such as\nAusterlitz and Friedland. Has his heart failed him that he has not\ntaken the enemy\u2019s capital, the defenceless Moscow, ready to open its\ngates, and thus left a nucleus round which new elements of resistance\nmay gather themselves? He had the singular luck to take this far-off\nand enormous colossus by surprise, as easily as one would surprise a\nneighbouring town, or as Frederick the Great entered the little state\nof Silesia, lying at his door, and he makes no use of his good fortune,\nhalts in the middle of his victorious career, as if some evil spirit\nlaid at his heels! This is the way in which he would have been judged\nof after the result, for this is the fashion of critics\u2019 judgments in\ngeneral.\n\nIn opposition to this, we say, the campaign of 1812 did not succeed\nbecause the government remained firm, the people loyal and steadfast,\nbecause it therefore could not succeed. Buonaparte may have made a\nmistake in undertaking such an expedition; at all events, the result\nhas shown that he deceived himself in his calculations, but we maintain\nthat, supposing it necessary to seek the attainment of this object, it\ncould not have been done in any other way upon the whole.\n\nInstead of burthening himself with an interminable costly defensive war\nin the east, such as he had on his hands in the west, Buonaparte\nattempted the only means to gain his object: by one bold stroke to\nextort a peace from his astonished adversary. The destruction of his\narmy was the danger to which he exposed himself in the venture; it was\nthe stake in the game, the price of great expectations. If this\ndestruction of his army was more complete than it need have been\nthrough his own fault, this fault was not in his having penetrated too\nfar into the heart of the country, for that was his object, and\nunavoidable; but in the late period at which the campaign opened, the\nsacrifice of life occasioned by his tactics, the want of due care for\nthe supply of his army, and for his line of retreat, and lastly, in his\nhaving too long delayed his march from Moscow.\n\nThat the Russians were able to reach the Beresina before him, intending\nregularly to cut off his retreat, is no strong argument against us. For\nin the first place, the failure of that attempt just shows how\ndifficult it is really to cut off an army, as the army which was\nintercepted in this case under the most unfavourable circumstances that\ncan be conceived, still managed at last to cut its way through; and\nalthough this act upon the whole contributed certainly to increase its\ncatastrophe, still it was not essentially the cause of it. Secondly, it\nwas only the very peculiar nature of the country which afforded the\nmeans to carry things as far as the Russians did; for if it had not\nbeen for the marshes of the Beresina, with its wooded impassable\nborders lying across the great road, the cutting off would have been\nstill less possible. Thirdly, there is generally no means of guarding\nagainst such an eventuality except by making the forward movement with\nthe front of the army of such a width as we have already disapproved;\nfor if we proceed on the plan of pushing on in advance with the centre\nand covering the wings by armies detached right and left, then if\neither of these detached armies meets with a check, we must fall back\nwith the centre, and then very little can be gained by the attack.\n\nMoreover, it cannot be said that Buonaparte neglected his wings. A\nsuperior force remained fronting Wittgenstein, a proportionate\nsiege-corps stood before Riga which at the same time was not needed\nthere, and in the south Schwarzenberg had 50,000 men with which he was\nsuperior to Tormasoff and almost equal to Tschitschagow: in addition,\nthere were 30,000 men under Victor, covering the rear of the centre.\nEven in the month of November, therefore, at the decisive moment when\nthe Russian armies had been reinforced, and the French were very much\nreduced, the superiority of the Russians in rear of the Moscow army was\nnot so very extraordinary. Wittgenstein, Tschitschagow, and Sacken,\nmade up together a force of 100,000. Schwartzenberg, Regmer, Victor,\nOudinot, and St. Cyr, had still 80,000 effective. The most cautious\ngeneral in advancing would hardly devote a greater proportion of his\nforce to the protection of his flanks.\n\nIf out of the 600,000 men who crossed the Niemen in 1812, Buonaparte\nhad brought back 250,000 instead of the 50,000 who repassed it under\nSchwartzenberg, Regmer, and Macdonald, which was possible, by avoiding\nthe mistakes with which he has been reproached, the campaign would\nstill have been an unfortunate one, but theory would have had nothing\nto object to it, for the loss of half an army in such a case is not at\nall unusual, and only appears so to us in this instance on account of\nthe enormous scale of the whole enterprize.\n\nSo much for the principal operation, its necessary tendency, and the\nunavoidable risks. As regards the subordinate operations, there must\nbe, above all things, a common aim for all; but this aim must be so\nsituated as not to paralyse the action of any of the individual parts.\nIf we invade France from the upper and middle Rhine and Holland, with\nthe intention of uniting at Paris, neither of the armies employed to\nrisk anything on the advance, but to keep itself intact until the\nconcentration is effected, that is what we call a ruinous plan. There\nmust be necessarily a constant comparison of the state of this\nthreefold movement causing delay, indecision, and timidity in the\nforward movement of each of the armies. It is better to assign to each\npart its mission, and only to place the point of union wherever these\nseveral activities become unity of themselves.\n\nTherefore, when a military force advances to the attack on separate\ntheatres of war, to each army should be assigned an object against\nwhich the force of its shock is to be directed. Here _the point_ is\nthat _these shocks_ should be given from all sides simultaneously, but\nnot that proportional advantages should result from all of them.\n\nIf the task assigned to one army is found too difficult because the\nenemy has made a disposition of his force different to that which was\nexpected, if it sustains a defeat, this neither should, nor must have,\nany influence on the action of the others, or we should turn the\nprobability of the general success against ourselves at the very\noutset. It is only the unsuccessful issue of the majority of\nenterprises or of the principal one, which can and must have an\ninfluence upon the others: for then it comes under the head of a plan\nwhich has miscarried.\n\nThis same rule applies to those armies and portions of them which have\noriginally acted on the defensive, and, owing to the successes gained,\nhave assumed the offensive, unless we prefer to attach such spare\nforces to the principal offensive, a point which will chiefly depend on\nthe geographical situation of the theatre of war.\n\nBut under these circumstances, what becomes of the geometrical form and\nunity of the whole attack, what of the flanks and rear of corps when\nthose corps next to them are beaten.\n\nThat is precisely what we wish chiefly to combat. This glueing down of\na great offensive plan of attack on a geometrical square, is losing\none\u2019s way in the regions of fallacy.\n\nIn the fifteenth chapter of the Third Book we have shown that the\ngeometrical element has less influence in strategy than in tactics; and\nwe shall only here repeat the deduction there obtained, that in the\nattack especially, the actual results at the various points throughout\ndeserve more attention than the geometrical figure, which may gradually\nbe formed through the diversity of results.\n\nBut in any case, it is quite certain, that looking to the vast spaces\nwith which strategy has to deal, the views and resolutions which the\ngeometrical situation of the parts may create, should be left to the\ngeneral-in-chief; that, therefore, no subordinate general has a right\nto ask what his neighbour is doing or leaving undone, but each is to be\ndirected peremptorily to follow out his object. If any serious\nincongruity really arises from this, a remedy can always be applied in\ntime by the supreme authority. Thus, then, may be obviated the chief\nevil of this separate mode of action, which is, that in the place of\nrealities, a cloud of apprehensions and suppositions mix themselves up\nin the progress of an operation, that every accident affects not only\nthe part it comes immediately in contact with, but also the whole, by\nthe communication of impressions, and that a wide field of action is\nopened for the personal failings and personal animosities of\nsubordinate commanders.\n\nWe think that these views will only appear paradoxical to those who\nhave not studied military history long enough or with sufficient\nattention, who do not distinguish the important from the unimportant,\nnor make proper allowance for the influence of human weaknesses in\ngeneral.\n\nIf even in tactics there is a difficulty, which all experienced\nsoldiers admit there is, in succeeding in an attack in separate columns\nwhere it depends on the perfect connection of the several columns, how\nmuch more difficult, or rather how impossible, must this be in\nstrategy, where the separation is so much wider. Therefore, if a\nconstant connection of all parts was a necessary condition of success,\na strategic plan of attack of that nature must be at once given up. But\non the one hand, it is not left to our option to discard it completely,\nbecause circumstances, which we cannot control, may determine in favour\nof it; on the other hand, even in tactics, this constant close\nconjunction of all parts at every moment of the execution, is not at\nall necessary, and it is still less so in strategy. Therefore in\nstrategy we should pay the less attention to this point, and insist the\nmore upon a distinct piece of work being assigned to each part.\n\nWe have still to add one important observation: it relates to the\nproper allotment of parts.\n\nIn the year 1793 and 1794 the principal Austrian army was in the\nNetherlands, that of the Prussians, on the upper Rhine. The Austrians\nmarched from Vienna to Cond\u00e9 and Valenciennes, crossing the line of\nmarch of the Prussians from Berlin to Landau. The Austrians had\ncertainly to defend their Belgian provinces in that quarter, and any\nconquests made in French Flanders would have been acquisitions\nconveniently situated for them, but that interest was not strong\nenough. After the death of Prince Kaunitz, the Minister Thugut carried\na measure for giving up the Netherlands entirely, for the better\nconcentration of the Austrian forces. In fact, Austria is about twice\nas far from Flanders as from Alsace; and at a time when military\nresources were very limited, and everything had to be paid for in ready\nmoney, that was no trifling consideration. Still, the Minister Thugut\nhad plainly something else in view; his object was, through the urgency\nof the danger to compel Holland, England, and Prussia, the powers\ninterested in the defence of the Netherlands and Lower Rhine, to make\ngreater efforts. He certainly deceived himself in his calculations,\nbecause nothing could be done with the Prussian cabinet at that time,\nbut this occurrence always shows the influence of political interests\non the course of a war.\n\nPrussia had neither anything to conquer nor to defend in Alsace. In the\nyear 1792 it had undertaken the march through Lorraine into Champagne\nin a sort of chivalrous spirit. But as that enterprise ended in\nnothing, through the unfavourable course of circumstances, it continued\nthe war with a feeling of very little interest. If the Prussian troops\nhad been in the Netherlands, they would have been in direct\ncommunication with Holland, which they might look upon almost as their\nown country, having conquered it in the year 1787; they would then have\ncovered the Lower Rhine, and consequently that part of the Prussian\nmonarchy which lay next to the theatre of war. Prussia on account of\nsubsidies would also have had a closer alliance with England, which,\nunder these circumstances, would not so easily have degenerated into\nthe crooked policy of which the Prussian cabinet was guilty at that\ntime.\n\nA much better result, therefore, might have been expected if the\nAustrians had appeared with their principal force on the Upper Rhine,\nthe Prussians with their whole force in the Netherlands, and the\nAustrians had left there only a corps of proportionate strength.\n\nIf, instead of the enterprising Bl\u00fccher, General Barclay had been\nplaced at the head of the Silesian army in 1814, and Bl\u00fccher and\nSchwartzenberg had been kept with the grand army, the campaign would\nperhaps have turned out a complete failure.\n\nIf the enterprising Laudon, instead of having his theatre of war at the\nstrongest point of the Prussian dominions, namely, in Silesia, had been\nin the position of the German States\u2019 army, perhaps the whole Seven\nYears\u2019 War would have had quite a different turn. In order to examine\nthis subject more narrowly, we must look at the cases according to\ntheir chief distinctions.\n\nThe first is, if we carry on war in conjunction with other powers, who\nnot only take part as our allies, but also have an independent interest\nas well.\n\nThe second is, if the army of the ally has come to our assistance.\n\nThe third is, when it is only a question with regard to the personal\ncharacteristics of the General.\n\nIn the two first cases, the point may be raised, whether it is better\nto mix up the troops of the different powers completely, so that each\nseparate army is composed of corps of different powers, as was done in\nthe wars 1813 and 1814, or to keep them separate as much as possible,\nso that the army of each power may continue distinct and act\nindependently.\n\nPlainly, the first is the most salutary plan; but it supposes a degree\nof friendly feeling and community of interests which is seldom found.\nWhen there is this close good fellowship between the troops, it is much\nmore difficult for the cabinets to separate their interests; and as\nregards the prejudicial influence of the egotistical views of\ncommanders, it can only show itself under these circumstances amongst\nthe subordinate Generals, therefore, only in the province of tactics,\nand even there not so freely or with such impunity as when there is a\ncomplete separation. In the latter case, it affects the strategy, and\ntherefore, makes decided marks. But, as already observed, for the first\ncase there must be a rare spirit of conciliation on the part of the\nGovernments. In the year 1813, the exigencies of the time impelled all\nGovernments in that direction; and yet we cannot sufficiently praise\nthis in the Emperor of Russia, that although he entered the field with\nthe strongest army, and the change of fortune was chiefly brought about\nby him, yet he set aside all pride about appearing at the head of a\nseparate and an independent Russian army, and placed his troops under\nthe Prussian and Austrian Commanders.\n\nIf such a fusion of armies cannot be effected, a complete separation of\nthem is certainly better than a half-and-half state of things; the\nworst of all is when two independent Commanders of armies of different\npowers find themselves on the same theatre of war, as frequently\nhappened in the Seven Years\u2019 War with the armies of Russia, Austria,\nand the German States. When there is a complete separation of forces,\nthe burdens which must be borne are also better divided, and each\nsuffers only from what is his own, consequently is more impelled to\nactivity by the force of circumstances; but if they find themselves in\nclose connection, or quite on the same theatre of war, this is not the\ncase, and besides that the ill will of one paralyses also the powers of\nthe other as well.\n\nIn the first of the three supposed cases, there will be no difficulty\nin the complete separation, as the natural interest of each State\ngenerally indicates to it a separate mode of employing its force; this\nmay not be so in the second case, and then, as a rule, there is nothing\nto be done but to place oneself completely under the auxiliary army, if\nits strength is in any way proportionate to that measure, as the\nAustrians did in the latter part of the campaign of 1815, and the\nPrussians in the campaign of 1807.\n\nWith regard to the personal qualifications of the General, everything\nin this passes into what is particular and individual; but we must not\nomit to make one general remark, which is, that we should not, as is\ngenerally done, place at the head of subordinate armies the most\nprudent and cautious Commanders, but the _most enterprising;_ for we\nrepeat that in strategic operations conducted separately, there is\nnothing more important than that every part should develop its powers\nto the full, in that way faults committed at one part may be\ncompensated for by successes at others. This complete activity at all\npoints, however, is only to be expected when the Commanders are\nspirited, enterprising men, who are urged forwards by natural\nimpulsiveness by their own hearts, because a mere objective, coolly\nreasoned out, conviction of the necessity of action seldom suffices.\n\nLastly, we have to remark that, if circumstances in other respects\npermit, the troops and their commanders, as regards their destination,\nshould be employed in accordance with their qualities and the nature of\nthe country that is regular armies; good troops; numerous cavalry; old,\nprudent, intelligent generals in an open country; Militia; national\nlevies; young enterprising commanders in wooded country, mountains and\ndefiles; auxiliary armies in rich provinces where they can make\nthemselves comfortable.\n\nWhat we have now said upon a plan of a war in general, and in this\nchapter upon those in particular which are directed to the destruction\nof the enemy, is intended to give special prominence to the object of\nthe same, and next to indicate principles which may serve as guides in\nthe preparation of ways and means. Our desire has been in this way to\ngive a clear perception of what is to be, and should be, done in such a\nwar. We have tried to emphasise the necessary and general, and to leave\na margin for the play of the particular and accidental; but to exclude\nall that is _arbitrary, unfounded, trifling, fantastical; or\nsophistical_. If we have succeeded in this object, we look upon our\nproblem as solved.\n\nNow, if any one wonders at finding nothing here about turning rivers,\nabout commanding mountains from their highest points, about avoiding\nstrong positions, and finding the keys of a country, he has not\nunderstood us, neither does he as yet understand war in its general\nrelations according to our views.\n\nIn preceding books we have characterised these subjects in general, and\nwe there arrived at the conclusion, they are much more insignificant in\ntheir nature than we should think from their high repute. Therefore, so\nmuch the less can or ought they to play a great part, that is, so far\nas to influence the whole plan of a war, when it is a war which has for\nits object the destruction of the enemy.\n\nAt the end of the book we shall devote a chapter specially to the\nconsideration of the chief command; the present chapter we shall close\nwith an example.\n\nIf Austria, Prussia, the German Con-federation, the Netherlands and\nEngland, determine on a war with France, but Russia remains neutral a\ncase which has frequently happened during the last one hundred and\nfifty years they are able to carry on an offensive war, having for its\nobject the overthrow of the enemy. For powerful and great as France is,\nit is still possible for it to see more than half its territory overrun\nby the enemy, its capital occupied, and itself reduced in its means to\na state of complete inefficiency, without there being any power, except\nRussia, which can give it effectual support. Spain is too distant and\ntoo disadvantageously situated; the Italian States are at present too\nbrittle and powerless.\n\nThe countries we have named have, exclusive of their possessions out of\nEurope, above 75,000,000 inhabitants,(*) whilst France has only\n30,000,000; and the army which they could call out for a war against\nFrance really meant in earnest, would be as follows, without\nexaggeration:\u2014\n\n      Austria .............250,000 Prussia .............200,000 The\n      rest of Germany. 150,000 Netherlands ..........75,000 England\n      ..............50,000 \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014 Total: ......725,000\n\n(*) This chapter was probably written in 1828, since which time the\nnumerical relations have considerably changed. A. d. H.\n\n\nShould this force be placed on a warfooting it would, in all\nprobability, very much exceed that which France could oppose; for under\nBuonaparte the country never had an army of the like strength. Now, if\nwe take into account the deductions required as garrisons for\nfortresses and dep\u00f4ts, to watch the coasts, etc., there can be no doubt\nthe allies would have a great superiority in the principal theatre of\nwar, and upon that the object or plan of overthrowing the enemy is\nchiefly founded.\n\nThe centre of gravity of the French power lies in its military force\nand in Paris. To defeat the former in one or more battles, to take\nParis and drive the wreck of the French across the Loire, must be the\nobject of the allies. The pit of the stomach of the French monarchy is\nbetween Paris and Brussels, on that side the frontier is only thirty\nmiles from the capital. Part of the allies; the English, Netherlanders,\nPrussian, and North German States have their natural point of assembly\nin that direction, as these States lie partly in the immediate\nvicinity, partly in a direct line behind it. Austria and South Germany\ncan only carry on their war conveniently from the upper Rhine. Their\nnatural direction is upon Troyes and Paris, or it may be Orleans. Both\nshocks, therefore, that from the Netherlands and the other from the\nupper Rhine, are quite direct and natural, short and powerful; and both\nfall upon the centre of gravity of the enemy\u2019s power. Between these two\npoints, therefore, the whole invading army should be divided.\n\nBut there are two considerations which interfere with the simplicity of\nthis plan.\n\nThe Austrians would not lay bare their Italian dominions, they would\nwish to retain the mastery over events there, in any case, and\ntherefore would not incur the risk of making an attack on the heart of\nFrance, by which they would leave Italy only indirectly covered.\nLooking to the political state of the country, this collateral\nconsideration is not to be treated with contempt; but it would be a\ndecided mistake if the old and oft-tried plan of an attack from Italy,\ndirected against the South of France, was bound up with it, and if on\nthat account the force in Italy was increased to a size not required\nfor mere security against contingencies in the first campaign. Only the\nnumber needed for that security should remain in Italy, only that\nnumber should be withdrawn from the great undertaking, if we would not\nbe unfaithful to that first maxim, _Unity of plan, concentration of\nforce_. To think of conquering France by the Rhone, would be like\ntrying to lift a musket by the point of its bayonet; but also as an\nauxiliary enterprise, an attack on the South of France is to be\ncondemned, for it only raises new forces against us. Whenever an attack\nis made on distant provinces, interests and activities are roused,\nwhich would otherwise have lain dormant. It would only be in case that\nthe forces left for the security of Italy were in excess of the number\nrequired, and, therefore, to avoid leaving them unemployed, that there\nwould be any justification for an attack on the South of France from\nthat quarter.\n\nWe therefore repeat that the force left in Italy must be kept down as\nlow as circumstances will permit; and it will be quite large enough if\nit will suffice to prevent the Austrians from losing the whole country\nin one campaign. Let us suppose that number to be 50,000 men for the\npurpose of our illustration.\n\nAnother consideration deserving attention, is the relation of France in\nrespect to its sea-coast. As England has the upper hand at sea, it\nfollows that France must, on that account, be very susceptible with\nregard to the whole of her Atlantic coast; and, consequently, must\nprotect it with garrisons of greater or less strength. Now, however\nweak this coast-defence may be, still the French frontiers are tripled\nby it; and large drafts, on that account, cannot fail to be withdrawn\nfrom the French army on the theatre of war. Twenty or thirty thousand\ntroops disposable to effect a landing, with which the English threaten\nFrance, would probably absorb twice or three times the number of French\ntroops; and, further, we must think not only of troops, but also of\nmoney, artillery, etc., etc., required for ships and coast batteries.\nLet us suppose that the English devote 25,000 to this object.\n\nOur plan of war would then consist simply in this:\n\n   1. That in the Netherlands:\u2014 200,000 Prussians, 75,000\n   Netherlanders, 25,000 English, 50,000 North German Confederation,\n   \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014 Total: 350,000 be assembled,\n\nof whom about 50,000 should be set aside to garrison frontier\nfortresses, and the remaining 300,000 should advance against Paris, and\nengage the French Army in a decisive battle.\n\n2. That 200,000 Austrians and 100,000 South German troops should\nassemble on the Upper Rhine to advance at the same time as the army of\nthe Netherlands, their direction being towards the Upper Seine, and\nfrom thence towards the Loire, with a view, likewise, to a great\nbattle. These two attacks would, perhaps, unite in one on the Loire.\n\nBy this the chief point is determined. What we have to add is chiefly\nintended to root out false conceptions, and is as follows:\u2014\n\n1. To seek for the great battle, as prescribed, and deliver it with\nsuch a relation, in point of numerical strength and under such\ncircumstances, as promise a decisive victory, is the course for the\nchief commanders to follow; to this object everything must be\nsacrificed; and as few men as possible should be employed in sieges,\nblockades, garrisons, etc. If, like Schwartzenberg in 1814, as soon as\nthey enter the enemy\u2019s provinces they spread out in eccentric rays all\nis lost. That this did not take place in 1814 the Allies may thank the\npowerless state of France alone. The attack should be like a wedge well\ndriven home, not like a soap bubble, which distends itself till it\nbursts.\n\n2. Switzerland must be left to its own forces. If it remains neutral it\nforms a good _point d\u2019appui_ on the Upper Rhine; if it is attacked by\nFrance, let her stand up for herself, which in more than one respect\nshe is very well able to do. Nothing is more absurd than to attribute\nto Switzerland a predominant geographical influence upon events in war\nbecause it is the highest land in Europe. Such an influence only exists\nunder certain very restricted conditions, which are not to be found\nhere. When the French are attacked in the heart of their country they\ncan undertake no offensive from Switzerland, either against Italy or\nSwabia, and, least of all, can the elevated situation of the country\ncome into consideration as a decisive circumstance. The advantage of a\ncountry which is dominating in a strategic sense, is, in the first\nplace, chiefly important in the defensive, and any importance which it\nhas in the offensive may manifest itself in a single encounter. Whoever\ndoes not know this has not thought over the thing and arrived at a\nclear perception of it, and in case that at any future council of\npotentates and generals, some learned officer of the general staff\nshould be found, who, with an anxious brow, displays such wisdom, we\nnow declare it beforehand to be mere folly, and wish that in the same\ncouncil some true Blade, some child of sound common-sense may be\npresent who will stop his mouth.\n\n3. The space between two attacks we think of very little consequence.\nWhen 600,000 assemble thirty or forty miles from Paris to march against\nthe heart of France, would any one think of covering the middle Rhine\nas well as Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, and Munich? There would be no sense\nin such a thing. Are we to cover the communications? That would not be\nunimportant; but then we might soon be led into giving this covering\nthe importance of an attack, and then, instead of advancing on two\nlines, as the situation of the States positively requires, we should be\nled to advance upon three, which is not required. These three would\nthen, perhaps, become five, or perhaps seven, and in that way the old\nrigmarole would once more become the order of the day.\n\nOur two attacks have each their object; the forces employed on them are\nprobably very superior to the enemy in numbers. If each pursues his\nmarch with vigour, they cannot fail to react advantageously upon each\nother. If one of the two attacks is unfortunate because the enemy has\nnot divided his force equally, we may fairly expect that the result of\nthe other will of itself repair this disaster, and this is the true\ninterdependence between the two. An interdependence extending to (so as\nto be affected by) the events of each day is impossible on account of\nthe distance; neither is it necessary, and therefore the immediate, or,\nrather the direct connection, is of no such great value.\n\nBesides, the enemy attacked in the very centre of his dominions will\nhave no forces worth speaking of to employ in interrupting this\nconnection; all that is to be apprehended is that this interruption may\nbe attempted by a co-operation of the inhabitants with the partisans,\nso that this object does not actually cost the enemy any troops. To\nprevent that, it is sufficient to send a corps of 10,000 or 15,000 men,\nparticularly strong in cavalry, in the direction from Tr\u00e8ves to Rheims.\nIt will be able to drive every partisan before it, and keep in line\nwith the grand army. This corps should neither invest nor watch\nfortresses, but march between them, depend on no fixed basis, but give\nway before superior forces in any direction, no great misfortune could\nhappen to it, and if such did happen, it would again be no serious\nmisfortune for the whole. Under these circumstances, such a corps might\nprobably serve as an intermediate link between the two attacks.\n\n4. The two subordinate undertakings, that is, the Austrian army in\nItaly, and the English army for landing on the coast, might follow\ntheir object as appeared best. If they do not remain idle, their\nmission is fulfilled as regards the chief point, and on no account\nshould either of the two great attacks be made dependent in any way on\nthese minor ones.\n\nWe are quite convinced that in this way France may be overthrown and\nchastised whenever it thinks fit to put on that insolent air with which\nit has oppressed Europe for a hundred and fifty years. It is only on\nthe other side of Paris, on the Loire, that those conditions can be\nobtained from it which are necessary for the peace of Europe. In this\nway alone the natural relation between 30 millions of men and 75\nmillions will quickly make itself known, but not if the country from\nDunkirk to Genoa is to be surrounded in the way it has been for 150\nyears by a girdle of armies, whilst fifty different small objects are\naimed at, not one of which is powerful enough to overcome the inertia,\nfriction, and extraneous influences which spring up and reproduce\nthemselves everywhere, but more especially in allied armies.\n\nHow little the provisional organisation of the German federal armies is\nadapted to such a disposition, will strike the reader. By that\norganisation the federative part of Germany forms the nucleus of the\nGerman power, and Prussia and Austria thus weakened, lose their natural\ninfluence. But a federative state is a very brittle nucleus in war.\nThere is in it no unity, no energy, no rational choice of a commander,\nno authority, no responsibility.\n\nAustria and Prussia are the two natural centres of force of the German\nempire; they form the pivot (or fulcrum), the forte of the sword; they\nare monarchical states, used to war; they have well-defined interests,\nindependence of power; they are predominant over the others. The\norganisation should follow these natural lineaments, and not a false\nnotion about unity, which is an impossibility in such a case; and he\nwho neglects the possible in quest of the impossible is a fool.","title":"On War","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":293743}