OBSERVATIONS UPON INTERIOR LINES—WHAT HAS BEEN SAID AGAINST THEM.
Some of my critics have disputed as to the meaning of words and upon definitions; others have censured where they but imperfectly understood; and others have, by the light of certain important events, taken it upon themselves to deny my fundamental principles, without inquiring whether the conditions of the case which might modify the application of these principles were such as were supposed, or without reflecting that, even admitting what they claimed to be true, a single exception cannot disprove a rule based upon the experience of ages and upon natural principles.
In opposition to my maxims upon interior lines, some have quoted the famous and successful march of the allies upon Leipsic. This remarkable event, at first glance, seems to stagger the faith of those who believe in principles. At best, however, it is but one of those exceptional cases from which nothing can be inferred in the face of thousands of opposed instances. Moreover, it is easy to show that, far from overthrowing the maxims it has been brought to oppose, it will go to establish their soundness. Indeed, the critics had forgotten that in case of a considerable numerical superiority I recommended double lines of operations as most advantageous, particularly when concentric and arranged to combine an effort against the enemy at the decisive moment. Now, in the allied armies of Schwarzenberg, Blücher, Bernadotte, and Benningsen, this case of decided superiority is found. The inferior army, to conform to the principles of this chapter, should have directed its efforts against one of the extremities of his adversary, and not upon the center as it did: so that the events quoted against me are doubly in my favor.
Moreover, if the central position of Napoleon between Dresden and the Oder was disastrous, it must be attributed to the misfortunes of Culm, Katzbach, and Dennewitz,—in a word, to faults of execution, entirely foreign to the principles in question.
What I propose is, to act offensively upon the most important point with the greater part of the forces, but upon the secondary points to remain on the defensive, in strong positions or behind a river, until the decisive blow is struck, and the operation ended by the total defeat of an essential part of the army. Then the combined efforts of the whole army may be directed upon other points. Whenever the secondary armies are exposed to a decisive shock during the absence of the mass of the army, the system is not understood; and this was what happened in 1813.
If Napoleon, after his victory at Dresden, had vigorously pursued the allies into Bohemia, he would have escaped the disaster at Culm, have threatened Prague, and perhaps have dissolved the Coalition. To this error may be added a fault quite as great,—that of fighting decisive battles when he was not present with the mass of his forces. At Katzbach his instructions were not obeyed. He ordered Macdonald to wait for Blücher, and to fall upon him when he should expose himself by hold movements. Macdonald, on the contrary, crossed his detachments over torrents which were hourly becoming more swollen, and advanced to meet Blücher. If he had fulfilled his instructions and Napoleon had followed up his victory, there is no doubt that his plan of operations, based upon interior strategic lines and positions and upon a concentric line of operations, would have met with the most brilliant success. The study of his campaigns in Italy in 1796 and in France in 1814 shows that he knew how to apply this system.
There is another circumstance, of equal importance, which shows the injustice of judging central lines by the fate of Napoleon in Saxony,—viz.: that his front of operations was outflanked on the right, and even taken in reverse, by the geographical position of the frontiers of Bohemia. Such a case is of rare occurrence. A central position with such faults is not to be compared to one without them. When Napoleon made the application of these principles in Italy, Poland, Prussia, and France, he was not exposed to the attack of a hostile enemy on his flanks and rear. Austria could have threatened him in 1807; but she was then at peace with him and unarmed. To judge of a system of operations, it must be supposed that accidents and chances are to be as much in favor of as against it,—which was by no means the case in 1813, either in the geographic positions or in the state of the respective forces. Independently of this, it is absurd to quote the reverses at Katzbach and Dennewitz, suffered by his lieutenants, as proof capable of destroying a principle the simplest application of which required these officers not to allow themselves to be drawn into a serious engagement. Instead of avoiding they sought collisions. Indeed, what advantage can be expected from the system of central lines, if the parts of the army which have been weakened in order to strike decisive blows elsewhere, shall themselves seek a disastrous contest, instead of being contented with being bodies of observation?[[18]] In this case it is the enemy who applies the principle, and not he who has the interior lines. Moreover, in the succeeding campaign, the defense of Napoleon in Champagne, from the battle of Brienne to that of Paris, demonstrates fully the truth of these maxims.
The analysis of these two celebrated campaigns raises a strategic question which it would be difficult to answer by simple assertions founded upon theories. It is, whether the system of central lines loses its advantages when the masses are very large. Agreeing with Montesquieu, that the greatest enterprises fail from the magnitude of the arrangements necessary to consummate them, I am disposed to answer in the affirmative. It is very clear to me that an army of one hundred thousand men, occupying a central zone against three isolated armies of thirty or thirty-five thousand men, would be more sure of defeating them successively than if the central mass were four hundred thousand strong against three armies of one hundred and thirty-five thousand each; and for several good reasons:—
1. Considering the difficulty of finding ground and time necessary to bring a very large force into action on the day of battle, an army of one hundred and thirty or one hundred and forty thousand men may easily resist a much larger force.
2. If driven from the field, there will be at least one hundred thousand men to protect and insure an orderly retreat and effect a junction with one of the other armies.
3. The central army of four hundred thousand men requires such a quantity of provisions, munitions, horses, and matériel of every kind, that it will possess less mobility and facility in shifting its efforts from one part of the zone to another; to say nothing of the impossibility of obtaining provisions from a region too restricted to support such numbers.
4. The bodies of observation detached from the central mass to hold in check two armies of one hundred and thirty-five thousand each must be very strong, (from eighty to ninety thousand each;) and, being of such magnitude, if they are drawn into a serious engagement they will probably suffer reverses, the effects of which might outweigh the advantages gained by the principal army.
I have never advocated exclusively either a concentric or eccentric system. All my works go to show the eternal influence of principles, and to demonstrate that operations to be successful must be applications of principles.
Divergent or convergent operations may be either very good or very bad: all depends on the situation of the respective forces. The eccentric lines, for instance, are good when applied to a mass starting from a given point, and acting in divergent directions to divide and separately destroy two hostile forces acting upon exterior lines. Such was the maneuver of Frederick which brought about, at the end of the campaign of 1767, the fine battles of Rossbach and Leuthen. Such were nearly all the operations of Napoleon, whose favorite maneuver was to unite, by closely-calculated marches, imposing masses on the center, and, having pierced the enemy's center or turned his front, to give them eccentric directions to disperse the defeated army.[[19]]
On the other hand, concentric operations are good in two cases: 1. When they tend to concentrate a scattered army upon a point where it will be sure to arrive before the enemy; 2. When they direct to the same end the efforts of two armies which are in no danger of being beaten separately by a stronger enemy.
Concentric operations, which just now seem to be so advantageous, may be most pernicious,—which should teach us the necessity of detecting the principles upon which systems are based, and not to confound principles and systems; as, for instance, if two armies set out from a distant base to march convergently upon an enemy whose forces are on interior lines and more concentrated, it follows that the latter could effect a union before the former, and would inevitably defeat them; as was the case with Moreau and Jourdan in 1796, opposed to the Archduke Charles.
In starting from the same points, or from two points much less separated than Dusseldorf and Strasbourg, an army may be exposed to this danger. What was the fate of the concentric columns of Wurmser and Quasdanovitch, wishing to reach the Mincio by the two banks of Lake Garda? Can the result of the march of Napoleon and Grouchy on Brussels be forgotten? Leaving Sombref, they were to march concentrically on this city,—one by Quatre-Bras, the other by Wavre. Blücher and Wellington, taking an interior strategic line, effected a junction before them, and the terrible disaster of Waterloo proved to the world that the immutable principles of war cannot be violated with impunity.
Such events prove better than any arguments that a system which is not in accordance with the principles of war cannot be good. I lay no claim to the creation of these principles, for they have always existed, and were applied by Cæsar, Scipio, and the Consul Nero, as well as by Marlborough and Eugene; but I claim to have been the first to point them out, and to lay down the principal chances in their various applications.
FOOTNOTES:
This definition has been criticized; and, as it has given rise to misapprehension, it becomes necessary to explain it.
In the first place, it must be borne in mind that it is a question of maneuver-lines, (that is, of strategic combinations,) and not of great routes. It must also be admitted that an army marching upon two or three routes, near enough to each other to admit of the concentration of the different masses within forty-eight hours, would not have two or three lines of operations. When Moreau and Jourdan entered Germany with two armies of 70,000 men each, being independent of each other, there was a double line of operations; but a French army of which only a detachment starts from the Lower Rhine to march on the Main, while the five or six other corps set out from the Upper Rhine to march on Ulm, would not have a double line of operations in the sense in which I use the term to designate a maneuver. Napoleon, when he concentrated seven corps and set them in motion by Bamberg to march on Gera, while Mortier with a single corps marched on Cassel to occupy Hesse and flank the principal enterprise, had but a single general line of operations, with an accessory detachment. The territorial line was composed of two arms or radii, but the operation was not double.
Some German writers have said that I confound central positions with the line of operations,—in which assertion they are mistaken. An army may occupy a central position in the presence of two masses of the enemy, and not have interior lines of operations: these are two very different things. Others have thought that I would have done better to use the term radii of operations to express the idea of double lines. The reasoning in this case is plausible if we conceive the theater of operations to be a circle; but, as every radius is, after all, a line, it is simply a dispute about words.
This assertion has been disputed. I think it is correct; for Mélas, confined between the Bormida, the Tanaro, and the Po, was unable to recruit for his army, barely able to maintain a communication by couriers with his base, and he certainly would have been obliged to cut his way out or to surrender in case he had not been reinforced.
The capture of Paris by the allies decided the fate of Napoleon; but he had no army, and was attacked by all Europe, and the French people had, in addition, separated their cause from his. If he had possessed fifty thousand more old soldiers, he would have shown that the capital was at his head-quarters.
The inferiority of an army does not depend exclusively upon the number of soldiers: their military qualities, their morale, and the ability of their commander are also very important elements.
When the fractions of an army are separated from the main body by only a few marches, and particularly when they are not intended to act separately throughout the campaign, these are central strategic positions, and not lines of operations.
In the movements immediately preceding the battle of Leipsic, Napoleon, strictly speaking, had but a single line of operations, and his armies were simply in central strategic positions; but the principle is the same, and hence the example is illustrative of lines of operations.
I am well aware that it is not always possible to avoid a combat without running greater risks than would result from a check; but Macdonald might have fought Blücher to advantage if he had better understood Napoleon's instructions.
It will not be thought strange that I sometimes approve of concentric, and at other times divergent, maneuvers, when we reflect that among the finest operations of Napoleon there are some in which he employed these two systems alternately within twenty-four hours; for example, in the movements about Ratisbon in 1809.