ELEMENTS
OF
MILITARY ART AND SCIENCE:
OR,
COURSE OF INSTRUCTION IN STRATEGY, FORTIFICATION, TACTICS OF BATTLES, &c.
EMBRACING THE DUTIES OF STAFF, INFANTRY, CAVALRY, ARTILLERY, AND ENGINEERS.
ADAPTED TO THE USE OF VOLUNTEERS AND MILITIA.
THIRD EDITION.
WITH CRITICAL NOTES ON THE MEXICAN AND CRIMEAN WARS.
BY
H. WAGER HALLECK, A.M., MAJOR GENERAL, U.S.A.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
443 & 445 BROADWAY.
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN
1862.
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, BY D. APPLETON & COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
[I. INTRODUCTION.—Dr. Wayland's Arguments on the Justifiableness of War briefly examined.]
[IV. LOGISTICS.—Subsistence.—Forage.—Marches.—Convoys.— Castrametation.]
[X. ARMY ORGANIZATION.—Infantry and Cavalry.—Their History, Duties, Numbers, and Organization.]
PREFACE
The following pages were hastily thrown together in the form of lectures, and delivered, during, the past winter, before the Lowell Institute of Boston. They were written without the slightest intention of ever publishing them; but several officers of militia, who heard them delivered, or afterwards read them in manuscript, desire their publication, on the ground of their being useful to a class of officers now likely to be called into military service. It is with this view alone that they are placed in the hands of the printer. No pretension is made to originality in any part of the work; the sole object having been to embody, in a small compass, well established military principles, and to illustrate these by reference to the events of past history, and the opinions and practice of the best generals.
Small portions of two or three of the following chapters have already appeared, in articles furnished by the author to the New York and Democratic Reviews, and in a "Report on the Means of National Defence," published by order of Congress.
H.W.H.
MAY, 1846.
ELEMENTS OF MILITARY ART AND SCIENCE.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Our distance from the old world, and the favorable circumstances in which we have been placed with respect to the other nations of the new world, have made it so easy for our government to adhere to a pacific policy, that, in the sixty-two years that have elapsed since the acknowledgment of our national independence, we have enjoyed more than fifty-eight of general peace; our Indian border wars have been too limited and local in their character to seriously affect the other parts of the country, or to disturb the general conditions of peace. This fortunate state of things has done much to diffuse knowledge, promote commerce, agriculture, and manufactures; in fine, to increase the greatness of the nation and the happiness of the individual. Under these circumstances our people have grown up with habits and dispositions essentially pacific, and it is to be hoped that these feelings may not soon be changed. But in all communities opinions sometimes run into extremes; and there are not a few among us who, dazzled by the beneficial results of a long peace, have adopted the opinion that war in any case is not only useless, but actually immoral; nay, more, that to engage in war is wicked in the highest degree, and even brutish.
All modern ethical writers regard unjust war as not only immoral, but as one of the greatest of crimes—murder on a large scale. Such are all wars of mere ambition, engaged in for the purpose of extending regal power or national sovereignty; wars of plunder, carried on from mercenary motives; wars of propagandism, undertaken for the unrighteous end of compelling men to adopt certain religious or political opinions, whether from the alleged motives of "introducing a more orthodox religion," or of "extending the area of freedom." Such wars are held in just abhorrence by all moral and religious people: and this is believed to be the settled conviction of the great mass of our own citizens.
But in addition to that respectable denomination of Christians who deny our right to use arms under any circumstances, there are many religious enthusiasts in other communions who, from causes already noticed, have adopted the same theory, and hold all wars, even those in self-defence, as unlawful and immoral. This opinion has been, within the last few years, pressed on the public with great zeal and eloquence, and many able pens have been enlisted in its cause. One of the most popular, and by some regarded one of the most able writers on moral science, has adopted this view as the only one consonant with the principles of Christian morality.
It has been deemed proper, in commencing a course of lectures on war, to make a few introductory remarks respecting this question of its justifiableness. We know of no better way of doing this than to give on the one side the objections to war as laid down in Dr. Wayland's Moral Philosophy, and on the other side the arguments by which other ethical writers have justified a resort to war. We do not select Dr. Wayland's work for the purpose of criticizing so distinguished an author; but because he is almost the only writer on ethics who advocates these views, and because the main arguments against war are here given in brief space, and in more moderate and temperate language than that used by most of his followers. I shall give his arguments in his own language.
"I. All wars are contrary to the revealed will of God."
It is said in reply, that if the Christian religion condemns all wars, no matter how just the cause, or how necessary for self-defence, we must expect to find in the Bible some direct prohibition of war, or at least a prohibition fairly implied in other direct commandments. But the Bible nowhere prohibits war: in the Old Testament we find war and even conquest positively commanded, and although war was raging in the world in the time of Christ and his apostles, still they said not a word of its unlawfulness and immorality. Moreover, the fathers of the church amply acknowledge the right of war, and directly assert, that when war is justly declared, the Christian may engage in it either by stratagem or open force. If it be of that highly wicked and immoral character which some have recently attributed to it, most assuredly it would be condemned in the Bible in terms the most positive and unequivocal.
But it has been said that the use of the sword is either directly or typically forbidden to the Christian, by such passages as "Thou shalt not kill," (Deut. v. 17,) "I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also," (Matt. v. 39,) &c. If these passages are to be taken as literal commands, as fanatics and religious enthusiasts would have us believe, not only is war unlawful, but also all our penal statutes, the magistracy, and all the institutions of the state for the defence of individual rights, the protection of the innocent, and the punishment of the guilty. But if taken in conjunction with the whole Bible, we must infer that they are hyperbolical expressions, used to impress strongly on our minds the general principle of love and forgiveness, and that, so far as possible, we over come evil with good. Can any sober-minded man suppose, for a moment, that we are commanded to encourage the attacks of the wicked, by literally turning the left cheek when assaulted on the right, and thus induce the assailant to commit more wrong? Shall we invite the thief and the robber to persevere in his depredations, by literally giving him a cloak when he takes our coat; and the insolent and the oppressor to proceed in his path of crime, by going two miles with him if he bid us to go one?
Again, if the command, "Thou shalt not kill," is to be taken literally, it not only prohibits us from engaging in just war, and forbids the taking of human life by the state, as a punishment for crime; it also forbids, says Dr. Leiber, our taking the life of any animal, and even extends to the vegetable kingdom,—for undoubtedly plants have life, and are liable to violent death—to be killed. But Dr. Wayland concedes to individuals the right to take vegetable and animal life, and to society the right to punish murder by death. This passage undoubtedly means, thou shalt not unjustly kill,—thou shalt do no murder; and so it is rendered in our prayer-books. It cannot have reference to war, for on almost the next page we find the Israelites commanded to go forth and smite the heathen nations,—to cast them out of the land,—to utterly destroy them,—to show them no mercy, &c. If these passages of the Bible are to be taken literally, there is no book which contains so many contradictions; but if taken in connection with the spirit of other passages, we shall find that we are permitted to use force in preventing or punishing crime, whether in nations or in individuals; but that we should combine love with justice, and free our hearts from all evil motives.
II. All wars are unjustifiable, because "God commands us to love every man, alien or citizen, Samaritan or Jew, as ourselves; and the act neither of society nor of government can render it our duty to violate this command."
It is true that no act of society can make it our duty to violate any command of God: but is the above command to be taken literally, and as forbidding us to engage in just war? Is it not rather intended to impress upon us, in a forcible manner, that mutual love is a great virtue; that we should hate no one, not even a stranger nor an enemy, but should treat all with justice, mercy, and loving-kindness? If the meaning attempted to be given to this command in the above quotation be the true one, it is antagonistical not only to just war, but to civil justice, to patriotism, and to the social and domestic affections.
But are we bound to love all human beings alike; that is, to the same degree? Does the Bible, as a whole, inculcate such doctrine? On the contrary, Christ himself had his beloved disciple,—one whom he loved pre-eminently, and above all the others; though he loved the others none the less on that account. We are bound to love our parents, our brothers, our families first, and above all other human beings; but we do not, for this reason, love others any the less. A man is not only permitted to seek first the comfort and happiness of his own family, but if he neglect to do so, he is worse than an infidel. We are bound to protect our families against the attacks of others; and, if necessary for the defence of their lives, we are permitted to take the life of the assailant; nay more, we are bound to do so. But it does not follow that we hate him whom we thus destroy. On the contrary, we may feel compassion, and even love for him. The magistrate sentences the murderer to suffer the penalty of the law; and the sheriff carries the sentence into execution by taking, in due form, the life of the prisoner: nevertheless, both the magistrate and the sheriff may have the kindest feelings towards him whom they thus deprive of life.
So it is in the external affairs of the state. Next to my kindred and my neighbors do I love my countrymen. I love them more than I do foreigners, because my interests, my feelings, my happiness, my ties of friendship and affection, bind me to them more intimately than to the foreigner. I sympathize with the oppressed Greek, and the enslaved African, and willingly contribute to their relief, although their sufferings affect me very remotely; but if my own countrymen become oppressed and enslaved, nearer and dearer interests are affected, and peculiar duties spring from the ties and affections which God has formed. If my countrymen be oppressed, my neighbors and kindred will be made unhappy and suffering; this I am bound to take all proper measures in my power to prevent. If the assailant cannot be persuaded by argument to desist from his wicked intentions, I unite with my fellow-citizens in forcibly resisting his aggressions. In doing this I am actuated by no feelings of hatred towards the hostile forces; I have in my heart no malice, no spirit of revenge; I have no desire to harm individuals, except so far as they are made the instruments of oppression. But as instruments of evil, I am bound to destroy their power to do harm. I do not shoot at my military enemy from hatred or revenge; I fight against him because the paramount interests of my country cannot be secured without destroying the instrument by which they are assailed. I am prohibited from exercising any personal cruelty; and after the battle, or as soon as the enemy is rendered harmless, he is to be treated with kindness, and to be taken care of equally with the wounded friend. All conduct to the contrary is regarded by civilized nations with disapprobation.
That war does not properly beget personal malignity but that, on the contrary, the effects of mutual kindness and courtesy on the battle-field, frequently have a beneficial influence in the political events of after years, may be shown by innumerable examples in all history. Soult and Wellington were opposing generals in numerous battles; but when the former visited England in 1838, he was received by Wellington and the whole British nation with the highest marks of respect; and the mutual warmth of feeling between these two distinguished men has contributed much to the continuance of friendly relations between the two nations. And a few years ago, when we seemed brought, by our civil authorities, almost to the brink of war by the northeastern boundary difficulties, the pacific arrangements concluded, through the intervention of General Scott, between the Governors of Maine and New Brunswick, were mainly due to ancient friendships contracted by officers of the contending armies during our last war with Great Britain.
III. "It is granted that it would be better for man in general, if wars were abolished, and all means, both of offence and defence, abandoned. Now, this seems to me to admit, that this is the law under which God has created man. But this being admitted, the question seems to be at an end; for God never places man under circumstances in which it is either wise, or necessary, or innocent, to violate his laws. Is it for the advantage of him who lives among a community of thieves, to steal; or for one who lives among a community of liars, to lie?"
The fallacy of the above argument is so evident that it is scarcely necessary to point out its logical defects.
My living among a community of thieves would not justify me in stealing, and certainly it would be no reason why I should neglect the security of my property. My living among murderers would not justify me in committing murder, and on the other hand it would be no reason why I should not fight in the defence of my family, if the arm of the law were unable to protect them. That other nations carry on unjust wars is no reason why we should do likewise, nor is it of itself any reason why we should neglect the means of self-defence.
It may seem, to us short-sighted mortals, better that we were placed in a world where there were no wars, or murders, or thefts; but God has seen fit to order it otherwise. Our duties and our relations to our fellow-men are made to suit the world as it is, and not such a world as we would make for ourselves.
We live among thieves: we must therefore resort to force to protect our property—that is, to locks, and bars, and bolts; we build walls thick and high between the robber and our merchandise. And more: we enact laws for his punishment, and employ civil officers to forcibly seize the guilty and inflict that degree of punishment necessary for the prevention of other thefts and robberies.
We live among murderers: if neither the law nor the ordinary physical protections suffice for the defence of our own lives and the lives of our innocent friends, we forcibly resist the murderer, even to his death, if need be. Moreover, to deter others from like crimes, we inflict the punishment of death upon him who has already taken life.
These relations of individuals and of society are laid down by all ethical writers as in accordance with the strictest rules of Christian morality. Even Dr. Wayland considers it not only the right, but the duty of individuals and of society to resort to these means, and to enact these laws for self-protection. Let us extend the same course of reasoning to the relations of different societies.
We live among nations who frequently wage unjust wars; who, disregarding the rights of others, oppress and rob, and even murder their citizens, in order to reach some unrighteous end. As individuals, we build fences and walls for the protection of our grounds and our merchandise; so, as a nation, we build ships and forts to protect our commerce, our harbors, and our cities. But the walls of our houses and stores are useless, unless made so strong and high that the robber cannot break through or scale them without great effort and personal danger; so our national ships and forts would be utterly useless for protection, unless fully armed and equipped.
Further: as individuals and as societies we employ civil officers for the protection of our property and lives, and, when necessary, arm them with the physical means of executing the laws, even though the employment of these means should cost human life. The prevention and punishment of crime causes much human suffering; nevertheless the good of community requires that crime should be prevented and punished. So, as a nation, we employ military officers to man our ships and forts, to protect our property and our persons, and to repel and punish those who seek to rob us of our life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. National aggressions are far more terrible in their results than individual crime; so also the means of prevention and punishment are far more stupendous, and the employment of these means causes a far greater amount of human suffering. This may be a good reason for greater caution in resorting to such means, but assuredly it is no argument against the moral right to use them.
IV. War is unjustifiable because unnecessary:
"1st. The very fact that a nation relied solely upon the justice of its measures, and the benevolence of its conduct, would do more than any thing else to prevent the occurrence of injury. The moral sentiment of every community would rise in opposition to injury inflicted upon the just the kind, and the merciful."
The moral duty of nations in this respect is the same as that of individuals. Active benevolence and forbearance should be employed, so far as may be proper; but there are points at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue. If we entirely forbear to punish the thief, the robber, and the murderer, think you that crime will be diminished? Reason and experience prove the contrary. Active benevolence and kindness should always attend just punishment, but they were never designed to prohibit it. The laws of God's universe are founded on justice as well as love. "The moral sentiment of every community rises in opposition to injury inflicted upon the just, the kind, and the merciful;" but this fact does not entirely prevent wicked men from robbing and murdering innocent persons, and therefore wise and just laws require that criminals shall be punished, in order that those who are dead to all moral restraints may be deterred from crime through fear of punishment.
"2d. But suppose the [national] injury to be done. I reply, the proper appeal for moral beings, upon moral questions, is not to physical force, but to the consciences of men. Let the wrong be set forth, but be set forth in the spirit of love; and in this manner, if in any, will the consciences of men be aroused to justice."
Argument, and "appeals to the consciences of men" should always be resorted to in preference to "physical force;" but when they fail to deter the wicked, force must be employed. I may reason with the robber and the murderer, to persuade him to desist from his attempt to rob my house, and murder my family; but if he refuse to listen to moral appeals, I employ physical force,—I call in the strong arm of the law to assist me; and if no other means can be found to save innocent life that is assailed, the life of the assailant must be sacrificed.
"If," says Puffendorf, "some one treads the laws of peace under his feet, forming projects which tend to my ruin, he could not, without the highest degree of impudence, (impudentissime,) pretend that after this I should consider him as a sacred person, who ought not to be touched; in other words, that I should betray myself, and abandon the care of my own preservation, in order to give way to the malice of a criminal, that he may act with impunity and with full liberty. On the contrary, since he shows himself unsociable towards me, and since he has placed himself in a position which does not permit me safely to practice towards him the duties of peace, I have only to think of preventing the danger which menaces me; so that if I cannot do this without hurting him, he has to accuse himself only, since he has reduced me to this necessity." De Jure Nat. et Gent, lib. ii., ch. v., §1. This same course of reasoning is also applied to the duties of a nation towards its enemy in respect to war.
"3d. But suppose this method fail. Why, then, let us suffer the evil."
This principle, if applied to its full extent, would, we believe, be subversive of all right, and soon place all power in the hands of the most evil and wicked men in the community. Reason with the nation that invades our soil, and tramples under foot our rights and liberties, and should it not desist, why, then, suffer the evil! Reason with the murderer, and if he do not desist, why, then, suffer him to murder our wives and our children! Reason with the robber and the defaulter, and if they will not listen, why, then, let them take our property! We cannot appeal to the courts, for if their decisions be not respected, they employ force to compel obedience to their mandates. But Dr. Wayland considers the law of benevolence to forbid the use of force between men. He forgets this, it is true, in speaking of our duties towards our fellow-men of the same society, and even allows us to punish the murderer with death; but towards the foreigner he requires a greater forbearance and benevolence than towards our neighbor; for if another nation send its armies to oppress, and rob, and murder us by the thousand, we have no right to employ physical force either to prevent or to punish them, though we may do so to prevent or punish a neighbor for an individual act of the same character. The greater the scale of crime, then, the less the necessity of resorting to physical force to prevent it!
"4th. But it may be asked, what is to prevent repeated and continued aggression? I answer, first, not instruments of destruction, but the moral principle which God has placed in the bosom of every man. I think that obedience to the law of God, on the part of the injured, is the surest preventive against the repetition of injury. I answer, secondly, suppose that acting in obedience to the law of benevolence will not prevent the repetition of injury, will acting on the principle of retaliation prevent it?" Again; "I believe aggression from a foreign nation to be the intimation from God that we are disobeying the law of benevolence, and that this is his mode of teaching nations their duty, in this respect, to each other. So that aggression seems to me in no manner to call for retaliation and injury, but rather to call for special kindness and good-will."
This argument, if such it can be called, is equally applicable to individual aggressions. We are bound to regard them as intimations of our want of benevolence, and to reward the aggressors for the intimations! Is it true, that in this world the wicked only are oppressed, and that the good are always the prospered and happy? Even suppose this true, and that I, as a sinful man, deserve God's anger, is this any reason why I should not resist the assassin, and seek to bring him to punishment? The whole of this argument of Dr. Wayland applies with much greater force to municipal courts than to war.
V. "Let us suppose a nation to abandon all means both of offence and of defence, to lay aside all power of inflicting injury, and to rely for self-preservation solely upon the justice of its own conduct, and the moral effect which such a course of conduct would produce upon the consciences of men. * * * * How would such a nation be protected from external attack, and entire subjugation? I answer, by adopting the law of benevolence, a nation would render such an event in the highest degree improbable. The causes of national war are, most commonly, the love of plunder and the love of glory. The first of these is rarely, if ever, sufficient to stimulate men to the ferocity necessary to war, unless when assisted by the second. And by adopting as the rule of our conduct the law of benevolence, all motive arising from the second cause is taken away. There is not a nation in Europe that could be led on to war against a harmless, just, forgiving, and defenceless people."
History teaches us that societies as well as individuals have been attacked again and again notwithstanding that they either would not or could not defend themselves. Did Mr. White, of Salem, escape his murderers any the more for being harmless and defenceless? Did the Quakers escape being attacked and hung by the ancient New Englanders any the more because of their non-resisting principles? Have the Jews escaped persecutions throughout Christendom any the more because of their imbecility and non-resistance for some centuries past? Poland was comparatively harmless and defenceless when the three great European powers combined to attack and destroy the entire nation, dividing between themselves the Polish territory, and enslaving or driving into exile the Polish people.
"Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime!"
We need not multiply examples under this head; all history is filled with them.
Let us to-morrow destroy our forts and ships of war, disband our army and navy, and apply the lighted torch to our military munitions and to our physical means of defence of every description; let it be proclaimed to the world that we will rely solely upon the consciences of nations for justice, and that we have no longer either the will or the ability to defend ourselves against aggression. Think you that the African and Asiatic pirates would refrain, any the more, from plundering our vessels trading to China, because we had adopted "the law of benevolence?" Would England be any the more likely to compromise her differences with us, or be any the more disposed to refrain from impressing our seamen and from searching our merchant-ships? Experience shows that an undefended state, known to suffer every thing, soon becomes the prey of all others, and history most abundantly proves the wisdom and justice of the words of Washington—"IF WE DESIRE TO SECURE PEACE, IT MUST BE KNOWN THAT WE ARE AT ALL TIMES READY FOR WAR."
But let us bring this case still nearer home. Let it be known to-morrow that the people of Boston or New York have adopted the strictly non-resisting principle, and that hereafter they will rely solely on the consciences of men for justice; let it be proclaimed throughout the whole extent of our Union, and throughout the world, that you have destroyed your jails and houses of correction, abolished your police and executive law officers, that courts may decide justice but will be allowed no force to compel respect to their decisions, that you will no longer employ walls, and bars, and locks, to secure your property and the virtue and lives of your children; but that you will trust solely for protection to "the law of active benevolence." Think you that the thieves, and robbers, and murderers of Philadelphia, and Baltimore, and New Orleans, and the cities of the old world, will, on this account, refrain from molesting the peace of New York and Boston, and that the wicked and abandoned men now in these cities, will be the more likely to turn from the evil of their ways?
Assuredly, if this "law of active benevolence," as Dr. Wayland denominates the rule of non-resistance, will prevent nations from attacking the harmless and defenceless, it will be still more likely to prevent individuals from the like aggressions; for the moral sense is less active in communities than where the responsibility is individual and direct.
Throughout this argument Dr. Wayland assumes that all wars are wars of aggression, waged for "plunder" or "glory," or through "hatred" or "revenge," whereas such is far from being true. He indeed sometimes speaks of war as being generally of this character; at others he speaks of it as being always undertaken either from a spirit of aggression or retaliation. Take either form of his argument, and the veriest schoolboy would pronounce it unsound: viz.,
All wars are undertaken either for aggression or retaliation;
Aggression and retaliation are forbidden by God's laws;—therefore,
All wars are immoral and unjustifiable.
Or,
Wars are generally undertaken either for aggression or retaliation;
Aggression and retaliation are forbidden by God's laws—therefore,
All wars are immoral and unjustifiable.
VI. "Let any man reflect upon the amount of pecuniary expenditure, and the awful waste of human life, which the wars of the last hundred years have occasioned, and then we will ask him whether it be not evident, that the one-hundredth part of this expense and suffering, if employed in the honest effort to render mankind wiser and better, would, long before this time, have banished wars from the earth, and rendered the civilized world like the garden of Eden? If this be true, it will follow that the cultivation of a military spirit is injurious to a community, inasmuch as it aggravates the source of the evil, the corrupt passions of the human breast, by the very manner in which it attempts to correct the evil itself."
Much has been said to show that war begets immorality, and that the cultivation of the military spirit has a corrupting influence on community. And members of the clergy and of the bar have not unfrequently so far forgotten, if not truth and fact, at least the common courtesies and charities of life, as to attribute to the military profession an unequal share of immorality and crime. We are declared not only parasites on the body politic, but professed violators of God's laws—men so degraded, though unconsciously, that "in the pursuit of justice we renounce the human character and assume that of the beasts;" it is said that "murder, robbery, rape, arson, theft, if only plaited with the soldier's garb, go unwhipped of justice."[[1]] It has never been the habit of the military to retort these charges upon the other professions. We prefer to leave them unanswered. If demagogues on the "stump," or in the legislative halls, or in their Fourth of-July addresses, can find no fitter subjects "to point a moral or adorn a tale," we must be content to bear their misrepresentations and abuse.
Sumner's Oration.
Unjust wars, as well as unjust litigation, are immoral in their effects and also in their cause. But just wars and just litigation are not demoralizing. Suppose all wars and all courts of justice to be abolished, and the wicked nations as well as individuals to be suffered to commit injuries without opposition and without punishment; would not immorality and unrighteousness increase rather than diminish? Few events rouse and elevate the patriotism and public spirit of a nation so much as a just and patriotic war. It raises the tone of public morality, and destroys the sordid selfishness and degrading submissiveness which so often result from a long-protracted peace. Such was the Dutch war of independence against the Spaniards; such the German war against the aggressions of Louis XIV., and the French war against the coalition of 1792. But without looking abroad for illustration, we find ample proof in our own history. Can it be said that the wars of the American Revolution and of 1812, were demoralizing in their effects? "Whence do Americans," says Dr. Lieber, "habitually take their best and purest examples of all that is connected with patriotism, public spirit, devotedness to common good, purity of motive and action, if not from the daring band of their patriots of the Revolution?"
The principal actors in the military events of the Revolution and of 1812, held, while living, high political offices in the state, and the moral tone which they derived from these wars may be judged of by the character stamped on their administration of the government. These men have passed away, and their places have, for some time, been filled by men who take their moral tone from the relations of peace. To the true believer in the efficacy of non-resistance, and in the demoralizing influence of all wars, how striking the contrast between these different periods in our political history! How infinitely inferior to the rulers in later times were those, who, in the blindness of their infatuation, appealed to physical force, rather than surrender their life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness! Let us trace out this contrast:—
In the earlier ages of our republic, and under the rule of those whose moral character had been corrupted by war, party spirit ran higher and was less pure than at later periods in our history. The object of the principal leaders of the great political parties was then to render the opinions of the opposite party odious: now, their only object is to sustain their own opinions by argument. Then, each party claimed to itself an exclusive love of country, and stigmatized the other as aliens and the natural enemies of the state: now, they both practise great forbearance, love, and charity, towards political opponents. Then, men obtained place through intrigue and corruption, and a universal scramble for the loaves and fishes of office on the one side, and a universal political proscription on the other, were regarded as the natural results of an election: now, this disgusting strife for office has ceased; men no longer seek place, but wait, like Cincinnatus, to be called from their ploughs; and none are proscribed for opinion's sake. Then, in electing men to office the most important social and constitutional principles were forgotten or violated: now, we have the august spectacle of a nation-choosing its rulers under the guidance of strict moral principle. Then, the halls of congress were frequently filled with demagogues, and tiplers, and the small men of community: now, the ablest and best of the country are always sought for as representatives. Then, the magnates of party were the mere timid, temporizing slaves of expediency, looking, not to the justice and wisdom of their measures, but to their probable popularity with then sneaking train of followers: now, they rely for respect and support upon the judgment of the honest and enlightened. Then, the rank and file of party were mere political hirelings, who sold their manhood for place, who reviled and glorified, and shouted huzzas and whispered calumnies, just as they were bidden; they could fawn upon those who dispensed political patronage with a cringing servility that would shame the courtiers of Louis XIV., or the parasites and hirelings of Walpole: now, all political partisans, deriving their moral tone from the piping times of peace, are pure, disinterested patriots, who, like the Roman farmer, take office with great reluctance, and resign it again as soon as the state can spare their services. Then, prize-fighters, and blacklegs, and gamblers, having formed themselves into political clubs, were courted by men high in authority, and rewarded for their dirty and corrupting partisan services by offices of trust and responsibility: now, no man clothed with authority would dare to insult the moral sense of community by receiving such characters in the national councils, or by bestowing public offices upon these corrupt and loathsome dregs of society.
Such, the advocates of non resistance would persuade us, are the legitimate results in this country of war on the one hand and of a long-protracted peace on the other. But there are men of less vivid imaginations, and, perhaps, of visions less distorted by fanatical zeal, who fail to perceive these results, and who even think they see the reverse of all this. These men cannot perceive any thing in the lives of Washington, Hamilton, and Knox, to show that they were the less virtuous because they had borne arms in their country's service: they even fail to perceive the injurious effects of the cultivation of a military spirit on the military students of West Point, whose graduates, they think, will compare favorably in moral character with the graduates of Yale and Cambridge. Nay, more, some even go so far as to say that our army, as a body, is no less moral than the corresponding classes in civil life; that our common soldiers are as seldom guilty of riots, thefts, robberies, and murders, as similarly educated men engaged in other pursuits; that our military officers are not inferior in moral character to our civil officers, and that, as a class, they will compare favorably with any other class of professional men—with lawyers, for example. In justification of these opinions—which may, perhaps, be deemed singularly erroneous—they say, that in the many millions of public money expended during the last forty years, by military officers, for the army, for military defences, and for internal improvements, but a single graduate of West Point has proved a defaulter, even to the smallest sum, and that it is exceedingly rare to see an officer of the army brought into court for violating the laws.
But even suppose it true that armies necessarily diffuse immorality through community, is it not equally true that habitual submission to the injustice, plunder, and insult of foreign conquerors would tend still more to degrade and demoralize any people?
With regard to "pecuniary expenditures" required in military defence, many absurd as well as false statements have been put forth. With respect to our own country, the entire amounts expended, under the head of war department, whether for Indian pensions, for the purchase of Indian lands, the construction of government roads, the improvement of rivers and harbors, the building of breakwaters and sea-walls, for the preservation of property, the surveying of public lands, &c., &c.; in fine, every expenditure made by officers of the army, under the war department, is put down as "expenses for military defence." Similar misstatements are made with respect to foreign countries: for example, the new fortifications of Paris are said to have already cost from fifty to seventy-five millions of dollars, and as much more is said to be required to complete them. Indeed, we have seen the whole estimated cost of those works stated at two hundred and forty millions of dollars, or twelve hundred millions of francs! The facts are these: the works, when done, will have cost about twenty-eight millions. We had the pleasure of examining them not long since, in company with several of the engineer officers employed on the works. They were then three-fourths done, and had cost about twenty millions. We were assured by these officers that the fortifications proper would be completed for somewhat less than the original estimate of twenty-eight millions. Had we time to enter into details, other examples of exaggeration and misrepresentation could be given.
But it is not to be denied that wars and the means of military defence have cost vast amounts of money. So also have litigation and the means deemed requisite for maintaining justice between individuals. It has been estimated that we have in this country, at the present time, thirty thousand lawyers, without including pettifoggers. Allowing each of these to cost the country the average sum of one thousand dollars, and we have the annual cost to the country, for lawyers, thirty millions of dollars. Add to this the cost of legislative halls and legislators for making laws; of court-houses, jails, police offices, judges of the different courts, marshals, sheriffs justices of the peace, constables, clerks, witnesses, &c., employed to apply and enforce the laws when made; the personal loss of time of the different plaintiffs and defendants, the individual anxiety and suffering produced by litigation; add all these together, and I doubt not the result for a single year will somewhat astonish these modern economists. But if all the expenditures of this nature that have been made for the last fifty years, in this individual "war of hate," be added together, we have no doubt a very fruitful text might be obtained for preaching a crusade against law and lawyers! But could any sane man be found to say that, on account of the cost of maintaining them, all laws and lawyers are useless and should be abolished?
If, therefore, these vast sums of money are deemed necessary to secure justice between individuals of the same nation, can we expect that the means of international justice can be maintained without expenditures commensurate with the object in view? If we cannot rely exclusively upon the "law of active benevolence" for maintaining justice between brothers of the same country, can we hope that, in the present state of the world, strangers and foreigners will be more ready to comply with its requisitions?
The length of the preceding remarks admonishes us to greater brevity in the further discussion of this subject.
It is objected to war, that men being rational beings, should contend with one another by argument, and not by force, as do the brutes.
To this it is answered, that force properly begins only where argument ends. If he who has wronged me cannot be persuaded to make restitution, I apply to the court,—that is, to legal force,—to compel him to do me justice. So nations ought to resort to military force only when all other means fail to prevent aggression and injury.
But war often fails to procure redress of grievances, or to prevent repeated and continued aggression.
So does a resort to civil force; but such a resort is none the less proper and just on that account.
But in war the innocent party is sometimes the sufferer, while the guilty triumph.
So it often is in civil life: God, for some wise purpose, sometimes permits the wicked to triumph for a season.
But in all wars one party must be in the wrong, and frequently the war is unjust on both sides.
So in suits at law, one party is necessarily wrong, and frequently both resort to the civil tribunals in hopes of attaining unrighteous ends.
But nations do not resort to tribunals, like individuals, to settle their differences.
For the reason that it is believed a tribunal of this character—a congress of nations, as it has been called,—would be more productive of evil than of good. By such an arrangement the old and powerful European monarchies would acquire the authority to interfere in the domestic affairs of the weaker powers. We see the effects of establishing such a tribunal in the so-called Holy Alliance, whose influence is regarded by the friends of liberty as little less dangerous than the Holy Inquisition. Moreover, such a tribunal would not prevent war, for military force would still be resorted to to enforce its decisions. For these and other reasons, it is deemed better and safer to rely on the present system of International Law. Under this system, and in this country, a resort to the arbitrament of war is not the result of impulse and passion,—a yielding to the mere "bestial propensities" of our nature; it is a deliberate and solemn act of the legislative power,—of the representatives of the national mind, convened as the high council of the people. It is this power which must determine when all just and honorable means have been resorted to to obtain national justice, and when a resort to military force is requisite and proper. If this decision be necessarily unchristian and barbarous, such, also, should we expect to be the character of other laws passed by the same body, and under the same circumstances. A declaration of war, in this country, is a law of the land, made by a deliberative body, under the high sanction of the constitution. It is true that such a law may be unjust and wrong, but we can scarcely agree that it will necessarily be so. The distinction between war, as thus duly declared, and "international Lynch-law" is too evident to need comment.
But it is said that the benefits of war are more than counterbalanced by the evils it entails, and that, "most commonly, the very means by which we repel a despotism from abroad, only establishes over us a military despotism at home."
Much has been said and written about military despotism; but we think he who studies history thoroughly, will not fail to prefer a military despotism to a despotism of mere politicians. The governments of Alexander and Charlemagne were infinitely preferable to those of the petty civil tyrants who preceded and followed them; and there is no one so blinded by prejudice as to say that the reign of Napoleon was no better than that of Robespierre, Danton, and the other "lawyers" who preceded him, or of the Bourbons, for whom he was dethroned.
"Cæsar," says a distinguished senator of our own country, "was rightfully killed for conspiring against his country; but it was not he that destroyed the liberties of Rome. That work was done by the profligate politicians without him, and before his time; and his death did not restore the republic. There were no more elections: rotten politicians had destroyed them; and the nephew of Cæsar, as heir to his uncle, succeeded to the empire on the principle of hereditary succession."
"And here History appears in her grand and instructive character, as Philosophy teaching by example: and let us not be senseless to her warning voice. Superficial readers believe it was the military men who destroyed the Roman republic! No such thing! It was the politicians who did it!--factious, corrupt, intriguing politicians—destroying public virtue in their mad pursuit after office—destroying their rivals by crime—deceiving and debauching the people for votes—and bringing elections into contempt by the frauds and violence with which they were conducted. From the time of the Gracchi there were no elections that could bear the name. Confederate and rotten politicians bought and sold the consulship. Intrigue and the dagger disposed of rivals. Fraud, violence, bribes, terror, and the plunder of the public treasury commanded votes. The people had no choice; and long before the time of Cæsar, nothing remained of republican government but the name and the abuse. Read Plutarch. In the 'Life of Cæsar,' and not three pages before the crossing of the Rubicon, he paints the ruined state of the elections,—shows that all elective government was gone,—that the hereditary form had become a necessary relief from the contests of the corrupt,—and that in choosing between Pompey and Cæsar, many preferred Pompey, not because they thought him republican, but because they thought he would make the milder king. Even arms were but a small part of Cæsar's reliance, when he crossed the Rubicon. Gold, still more than the sword, was his dependence; and he sent forward the accumulated treasures of plundered Gaul, to be poured into the laps of rotten politicians. There was no longer a popular government; and in taking all power himself, he only took advantage of the state of things which profligate politicians had produced. In this he was culpable, and paid the forfeit with his life. But in contemplating his fate, let us never forget that the politicians had undermined and destroyed the republic, before he came to seize and to master it."
We could point to numerous instances, where the benefits of war have more than compensated for the evils which attended it; benefits not only to the generations who engaged in it, but also to their descendants for long ages. Had Rome adopted the non-resistance principle when Hannibal was at her gates, we should now be in the night of African ignorance and barbarism, instead of enjoying the benefits of Roman learning and Roman civilization. Had France adopted this principle when the allied armies invaded her territories in 1792, her fate had followed that of Poland. Had our ancestors adopted this principle in 1776, what now had been, think you, the character and condition of our country?
Dr. Lieber's remarks on this point are peculiarly just and apposite. "The continued efforts," says he, "requisite for a nation to protect themselves against the ever-repeated attacks of a predatory foe, may be infinitely greater than the evils entailed by a single and energetic war, which forever secures peace from that side. Nor will it be denied, I suppose, that Niebuhr is right when he observes, that the advantage to Rome of having conquered Sicily, as to power and national vigor, was undeniable. But even if it were not so, are there no other advantages to be secured? No human mind is vast enough to comprehend in one glance, nor is any human life long enough to follow out consecutively, all the immeasurable blessings and the unspeakable good which have resolved to mankind from the ever-memorable victories of little Greece over the rolling masses of servile Asia, which were nigh sweeping over Europe like the high tides of a swollen sea, carrying its choking sand over all the germs of civilization, liberty, and taste, and nearly all that is good and noble. Think what we should have been had Europe become an Asiatic province, and the Eastern principles of power and stagnation should have become deeply infused into her population, so that no process ever after could have thrown it out again! Has no advantage resulted from the Hebrews declining any longer to be ground in the dust, and ultimately annihilated, at least mentally so, by stifling servitude, and the wars which followed their resolution? The Netherlands war of independence has had a penetrating and decided effect upon modern history, and, in the eye of all who value the most substantial parts and elementary ideas of modern and civil liberty, a highly advantageous one, both directly and through Great Britain. Wars have frequently been, in the hands of Providence, the means of disseminating civilization, if carried on by a civilized people—as in the case of Alexander, whose wars had a most decided effect upon the intercourse of men and extension of civilization—or of rousing and reuniting people who had fallen into lethargy, if attacked by less civilized and numerous hordes. Frequently we find in history that the ruder and victorious tribe is made to recover as it were civilization, already on the wane with a refined nation. Paradoxical as it may seem at first glance, it is, nevertheless, amply proved by history, that the closest contact and consequent exchange of thought and produce and enlargement of knowledge, between two otherwise severed nations, is frequently produced by war. War is a struggle, a state of suffering; but as such, at times, only that struggling process without which—in proportion to the good to be obtained, or, as would be a better expression for many cases, to the good that is to be borne—no great and essential good falls ever to the share of man. Suffering, merely as suffering, is not an evil. Our religion, philosophy, every day's experience, prove it. No maternal rejoicing brightens up a mother's eve without the anxiety of labor."
One word more, and we must leave this subject. It has been said by some that the duties of patriotism are less binding upon us than upon our ancestors; that, whatever may have been the practice in years that are past the present generation can in no manner bear arms in their country's cause, such a course being not only dishonorable, but in the eye of the Christian, wicked, and even infamous! It is believed, however, that such are not the general opinions and sentiments of the religious people of this country. Our forefathers lighted the fires of Religion and Patriotism at the same altar; it is believed that their descendants have not allowed either to be extinguished, but that both still burn, and will continue to burn, with a purer and brighter flame. Our forefathers were not the less mindful of their duty to their God, because they also faithfully served their country. If we are called upon to excel them in works of charity, of benevolence, and of Christian virtue, let it not be said of us that we have forgotten the virtue of patriotism.[[2]]
For further discussion of this subject the reader is referred to Lieber's Political Ethics, Part II., book vii. chap. 3; Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy; Legare's Report of June 13, 1838, in the House of Representatives; Mackintosh's History of the Revolution of 1688, chap. x.; Bynkershock; Vatel; Puffendorf; Clausewitz; and most other writers on international law and the laws of war.
Dr. Wayland's view of the question is advocated with much zeal by Dymond in his Inquiry into the Accordancy of War with the Principles of Christianity; Jay's Peace and War; Judd's Sermon on Peace and War; Peabody's Address, &c.; Coue's Tract on What is the Use of the Navy? Sumner's True Grandeur of Nations.
CHAPTER II.
STRATEGY
War has been defined, "A contest between nations and states carried on by force." But this definition is by some considered defective, inasmuch as it would exclude all civil wars.
When war is commenced by attacking a nation in peace, it is called offensive, and when undertaken to repel invasion, or the attacks of an enemy, it is called defensive. A war may be essentially defensive even where we begin it, if intended to prevent an attack or invasion which is under preparation. Besides this general division of war, military writers have made numerous others, such as—
Wars of intervention, in which one state interferes in favor of another. This intervention may either have respect to the internal or to the external affairs of a nation. The interference of Russia in the affairs of Poland, of England in the government of India, Austria and the allied powers in the affairs of France during the Revolution and under the empire, are examples under the first head. The intervention of the Elector Maurice of Saxony against Charles V., of King William against Louis XIV., in 1688, of Russia and France in the seven years' war, of Russia again between France and Austria, in 1805, and between France and Prussia, in 1806, are examples under the second head. Most liberal-publicists consider intervention in the internal affairs of nations as indefensible; but the principle is supported by the advocates of the old monarchies of Europe.
Wars of insurrection to gain or to regain liberty; as was the case with the Americans in 1776, and the modern Greeks in 1821.
Wars of independence from foreign dictation and control as the wars of Poland against Russia, of the Netherlands against Spain, of France against the several coalitions of the allied powers, of the Spanish Peninsula against France and of China and India against England. The American war of 1812 partook largely of this character, and some judicious historians have denominated it the war of Independence, as distinguished from the war of the Revolution.
Wars of opinion, like those which the Vendeans have sustained in support of the Bourbons, and those France has sustained against the allies, as also those of propagandism, waged against the smaller European states by the republican hordes of the French Revolution. To this class also belong—
Religious wars, like those of Islamism, of the crusades, and of the Reformation.
Wars of conquest, like those of the Romans in Gaul, of the English in India, of the French in Egypt and Africa, and of the Russians in Circassia.
National wars, in which the great body of the people of a state engage, like those of the Swiss against Austria and the Duke of Burgundy, of the Catalans in 1712, of the Americans against England, of the Dutch against Phillip II., and of the Poles and Circassians against Russia.
Civil wars, where one portion of the state fights against the other, as the war of the Roses in England, of the league in France, of the Guelphs and Ghibelines in Italy, and of the factions in Mexico and South America.
It is not the present intention to enter into any discussion of these different kinds of war, but rather to consider the general subject, and to discuss such general principles and rules as may be applicable to all wars.
War in its most extensive sense may be regarded both as a science and an art. It is a science so far as it investigates general principles and institutes an analysis of military operations; and an art when considered with reference to the practical rules for conducting campaigns, sieges, battles, &c. So is engineering a science so far as it investigates the general principles of fortification, and also artillery, in analyzing the principles of gunnery; but both are arts when considered with reference to the practical rules for the construction, attack, and defence of forts, or for the use of cannon.
This distinction has not always been observed by writers on this subject, and some have asserted that strategy is the science, and tactics the art of war. This is evidently mistaking the general distinction between science, which investigates principles, and art, which forms practical rules.
In popular language, however, it is usual to speak of the military art when we refer to the general subject of war, and of the military sciences when we wish to call attention more particularly to the scientific principles upon which the art is founded. We shall here consider the military art in this general sense, as including the entire subject of war.
As thus defined, the military art may be divided into four distinct branches, viz.: 1st. Strategy; 2d. Fortification, or Engineering; 3d. Logistics; 4th. Tactics. Several general treatises on this art add another branch, called The Policy of War, or the relations of war with the affairs of state.
Strategy is defined to be the art of directing masses on decisive points, or the hostile movements of armies beyond the range of each other's cannon. Engineering embraces all dispositions made to enable troops to resist a superior force the longest time possible; and also the means resorted to by the opposing army to overcome these material obstacles. Logistics embraces the practical details of moving and supplying armies. Tactics is the art of bringing troops into action, or of moving them in the presence of an enemy, that is, within his view, and within the reach of his artillery. All these are most intimately connected. A fault in tactics may occasion the loss of strategic lines; the best combined manœuvres on the field of battle may lead to no decisive results, when the position, or the direction of the operation is not strategic; sometimes not only battles, but entire campaigns, are lost through neglect of the engineer's art, or faults in his dispositions; again, armies would be of little use without the requisite means of locomotion and of subsistence.
1. Strategy regards the theatre of war, rather than the field of battle. It selects the important points in this theatre, and the lines of communication by which they may be reached; it forms the plan and arranges the general operations of a campaign; but it leaves it to the engineers to overcome material obstacles and to erect new ones; it leaves to logistics the means of supporting armies and of moving them on the chosen lines; and to tactics, the particular dispositions for battle, when the armies have reached the destined points. It is well to keep in mind these distinctions, which may be rendered still more obvious by a few illustrations. The point where several lines of communications either intersect or meet, and the centre of an arc which is occupied by the enemy, are strategic points; but tactics would reject a position equally accessible on all sides, especially with its flanks exposed to attack. Sempronius at Trebbia and Varro at Cannæ, so placed their armies that the Carthagenians attacked them, at the same time, in front, on the flanks, and in rear; the Roman consuls were defeated: but the central strategic position of Napoleon at Rivoli was eminently successful. At the battle of Austerlitz the allies had projected a strategic movement to their left, in order to cut off Napoleon's right from Vienna; Weyrother afterwards changed his plans, and executed a corresponding tactical movement. By the former there had been some chance of success, but the latter exposed him to inevitable destruction. The little fort of Koenigsten, from its advantageous position, was more useful to the French, in 1813, than the vast works of Dresden. The little fort of Bard, with its handful of men, was near defeating the operations of Napoleon in 1800, by holding in check his entire army; whereas, on the other hand, the ill-advised lines of Ticino, in 1706, caused an army of 78,000 French to be defeated by only 40,000 men under Prince Eugene of Savoy.
War, as has already been said, may be either offensive or defensive. If the attacking army be directed against an entire state, it becomes a war of invasion. If only a province, or a military position, or an army, be attacked, it is simply regarded as taking the initiative in offensive movements.
Offensive war is ordinarily most advantageous in its moral and political influence. It is waged on a foreign soil, and therefore spares the country of the attacking force; it augments its own resources at the same time that it diminishes those of the enemy; it adds to the moral courage of its own army, while it disheartens its opponents. A war of invasion may, however, have also its disadvantages. Its lines of operation may become too deep, which is always hazardous in an enemy's country. All the natural and artificial obstacles, such as mountains, rivers, defiles, fortifications, &c., are favorable for defence, but difficult to be overcome by the invader. The local authorities and inhabitants oppose, instead of facilitating his operations; and if patriotism animate the defensive army to fight for the independence of its threatened country, the war may become long and bloody. But if a political diversion be made in favor of the invading force, and its operations be attended with success, it strikes the enemy at the heart, paralyzes all his military energies, and deprives him of his military resources, thus promptly terminating the contest. Regarded simply as the initiative of movements, the offensive is almost always the preferable one, as it enables the general to choose his lines for moving and concentrating his masses on the decisive point.
The first and most important rule in offensive war is, to keep your forces as much concentrated as possible. This will not only prevent misfortune, but secure victory,—since, by its necessary operation, you possess the power of throwing your whole force upon any exposed point of your enemy's position.
To this general rule some writers have laid down the following exceptions:—
1st. When the food and forage of the neighborhood in which you act have been exhausted and destroyed, and your magazines are, from any cause, unable to supply the deficiency, one of two things must be done; either you must go to places where these articles abound, or you must draw from them your supplies by detachments. The former is rarely compatible with your plan, and necessarily retards its execution; and hence the preference which is generally given to the latter.
2d. When reinforcements are about to join you, and this can only be effected by a march through a country actually occupied by hostile corps, or liable to be so occupied, you must again waive the general rule, and risk one party for the security of the other; or, (which may be better,) make such movements with your main body as shall accomplish your object.
3d. When you have complete evidence of the actual, or probable insurrection in your favor, of a town or province of your enemy, or of a division of his army, you must support this inclination by strong detachments, or by movements of your main body. Napoleon's operations in Italy, in 1796-7, furnish examples of what is here meant.
4th. When, by dispatching a detachment, you may be able to intercept a convoy, or reinforcement, coming to the aid of your enemy.
These are apparent rather than real exceptions to the rule of concentration. This rule does not require that all the army should occupy the same position. Far from it. Concentration requires the main body to be in immediate and supporting reach: small detachments, for temporary and important objects, like those mentioned, are perfectly legitimate, and in accordance with correct principles. Napoleon's position in Spain will serve as an illustration. A hand, placed on the map of that country, will represent the position of the invading forces. When opened, the fingers will represent the several detachments, thrown out on important strategic lines, and which could readily be drawn in, as in closing the hand, upon the principal and central mass, preparatory to striking some important blow.
"If, as we have seen, it be the first great rule for an army acting on the offensive principle, to keep its forces concentrated, it is, no doubt, the second, to keep them fully employed. Is it your intention to seize a particular province of your enemy? to penetrate to his capital? or to cut him off from his supplies? Whatever measure be necessary to open your route to these objects must be promptly taken; and if you mean to subsist yourself at his expense, your movements must be more rapid than his. Give him time to breathe,—and above all, give him time to rest, and your project is blasted; his forages will be completed, and his magazines filled and secured. The roads of approach will be obstructed, bridges destroyed, and strong points everywhere taken and defended. You will, in fact, like Burgoyne, in 1777, reduce yourself to the necessity of bleeding at every step, without equivalent or use."
"Such cannot be the fate of a commander who, knowing all the value of acting on the offensive, shakes, by the vigor and address of his first movements, the moral as well as physical force of his enemy,—who, selecting his own time, and place, and mode of attack, confounds his antagonist by enterprises equally hardy and unexpected,—and who at last leaves to him only the alternative of resistance without hope, or of flying without resistance."
The British army, in the war of the American Revolution, must have been most wretchedly ignorant of these leading maxims for conducting offensive war. Instead of concentrating their forces on some decisive point, and then destroying the main body of our army by repeated and well-directed blows, they scattered their forces over an immense extent of country, and became too weak to act with decision and effect on any one point. On the other hand, this policy enabled us to call out and discipline our scattered and ill-provided forces.
The main object in defensive war is, to protect the menaced territory, to retard the enemy's progress, to multiply obstacles in his way, to guard the vital points of the country, and—at the favorable moment, when the enemy becomes enfeebled by detachments, losses, privations, and fatigue—to assume the offensive, and drive him from the country. This combination of the defensive and offensive has many advantages. The enemy, being forced to take the defensive in his turn, loses much of the moral superiority due to successful offensive operations. There are numerous instances of this kind of war, "the defensive-offensive," as it is sometimes called, to be found in history. The last four campaigns of Frederick the Great of Prussia, are examples which may serve as models. Wellington played a similar part in the Spanish peninsula.
To merely remain in a defensive attitude, yielding gradually to the advances of the enemy, without any effort to regain such positions or provinces as may have fallen into his power, or to inflict on him some fatal and decisive blow on the first favorable opportunity; such a system is always within the reach of ignorance, stupidity, and cowardice; but such is far from being the true Fabian system of defensive war.
"Instead of finding security only in flight; instead of habitually refusing to look the enemy in the face; instead of leaving his march undisturbed; instead of abandoning, without contest, points strong by nature or by art;—instead of all this, the true war of defence seeks every occasion to meet the enemy, and loses none by which it can annoy or defeat him; it is always awake; it is constantly in motion, and never unprepared for either attack or defence. When not employed in efforts of courage or address, it incessantly yields itself to those of labor and science. In its front it breaks up roads or breaks down bridges; while it erects or repairs those in its rear: it forms abbatis, raises batteries, fortifies passes, or intrenches encampments; and to the system of deprivation adds all the activity, stratagem, and boldness of la petite guerre. Dividing itself into detachments, it multiplies its own attacks and the alarms of the enemy. Collecting itself at a single point, it obstructs his progress for days, and sometimes for weeks together. Does it even abandon the avenues it is destined to defend? It is but for the purpose of shielding them more securely, by the attack of his hospitals, magazines, convoys, or reinforcements. In a word, by adopting the maxim, that the enemy must be made to pay for whatever he gains, it disputes with him every inch of ground, and if at last it yields to him a victory, it is of that kind which calls forth only his sighs."
In discussing the subject of strategy, certain technical terms are employed, such as theatre of war; theatre of operations; base of operations, or the line from which operations start; objective points, or points to which the operations are directed; line of operations, or the line along which an army moves; key points, or points which it is important for the defensive army to secure; line of defence, or the line which it is important to defend at all hazards: and in general, strategic points, strategic lines, strategic positions, &c. As these terms are very generally used in military books, it may be well to make ourselves thoroughly acquainted with their import. After defining these terms and explaining their meaning and application, it is deemed best to illustrate their use by reference to well-known and striking historical examples.
The theatre of a war embraces not only the territory of the two belligerent powers, but also that of their allies, and of such secondary powers as, through fear or interest, may be drawn into the contest. With maritime nations it also embraces the seas, and sometimes crosses to another continent. Some of the wars between France and England embraced the two hemispheres.
The theatre of operations, however, is of a more limited character, and should not be confounded with the theatre of war. In general, it includes only the territory which an army seeks, on the one hand, to defend, and on the other, to invade. If two or more armies be directed towards the same object, though by different lines, their combined operations are included in the same theatre but if each acts independently of the others, and seeks distinct and separate objects, each must have its own independent theatre of operations.
A war between France and Austria may embrace all Italy and Germany, but the theatre of operations may be limited to only a portion of these countries. Should the Oregon question lead to hostilities between the United States and England, the theatre of war would embrace the greater part of North America and the two oceans, but the theatre of operations would probably be limited to Canada and our northern frontier, with naval descents upon our maritime cities.
The first point to be attended to in a plan of military operation is to select a good base. Many circumstances influence this selection, such as mountains, rivers, roads, forests, cities, fortifications, military dépôts, means of subsistence, &c. If the frontier of a state contain strong natural or artificial barriers, it may serve not only as a good base for offensive operations, but also as an excellent line of defence against invasion. A single frontier line may, however, be penetrated by the enemy, and in that case a second or third base further in the interior becomes indispensable for a good defence.
A French army carrying on military operations against Germany would make the Rhine its first base; but if driven from this it would form a second base on the Meuse or Moselle, a third on the Seine, and a fourth on the Loire; or, when driven from the first base, it would take others perpendicular to the front of defence, either to the right, on Béfort and Besançon, or to the left, on Mézières and Sedan. If acting offensively against Prussia and Russia, the Rhine and the Main would form the first base the Elbe and the Oder the second, the Vistula the third, the Nieman the fourth, and the Dwina and the Dnieper the fifth.
A French army operating against Spain would have the Pyrenees for its first base; the line of the Ebro for a second, resting its wings on the gulf of Gascony and the Mediterranean. If from this position it advance its left, possessing itself of the kingdom of Valencia, the line of the Sierra d'Estellas becomes its third base of operations against the centre of Spain.
A base may be parallel, oblique, or perpendicular to our line of operations, or to the enemy's line of defence. Some prefer one plan and some another; the best authorities, however, think the oblique or perpendicular more advantageous than the parallel; but we are not often at liberty to choose between these, for other considerations usually determine the selection.
In 1806, the French forces first moved perpendicular to their base on the Main, but afterwards effected a change of front, and moved on a line oblique or nearly parallel to this base. They had pursued the same plan of operations in the Seven Years' War. The Russians, in 1812, based perpendicularly on the Oka and the Kalouga, and extended their flank march on Wiozma and Krasnoi; in 1813, the allies, based perpendicularly on Bohemia, succeeded in paralyzing Napoleon's army on the Elbe.
An American army moving by Lake Champlain, would be based perpendicular on the great line of communication between Boston and Buffalo; if moving from the New England states on Quebec and Montreal, the line of operations would be oblique; and if moving from the Niagara frontier by Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence, the line would be nearly parallel both to our base and to the enemy's line of defence—an operation, under the circumstances, exceedingly objectionable.
Any point in the theatre of operations which gives to the possessor an advantage over his opponent, is regarded as strategic. Their geographical position and political and military character, give them a greater or less influence in directing the campaign. These points are occupied by the defensive army, and attacked by the offensive; if on or near the base, they become the key points for the former, and the objective points for the latter.[[3]] There are also between these two a greater or less number of strategic points, which have an important though inferior influence upon the result of the war.
It may be well to remark that a strategic point is not necessarily a geometrical point; an entire province, or a considerable portion of a geographical frontier, is, in military language, sometimes denominated a point. In the same way, strategic lines, instead of being mathematical lines, are frequently many miles in width.
The first object of the French in attacking Belgium, is to gain possession of the Meuse, as this position would give them a decided advantage in any ulterior operations. In attacking southern Germany, the course of the Danube offers a series of points which exercise an important influence on the war. For northern Germany, Leipsic and the country bordering on the Saale and the Elbe, are objects often fiercely contested by the French and other belligerent powers. In a war between this country and England, Montreal and the points on the St. Lawrence between Montreal and Quebec, would become objects of the highest importance, and their possession would probably determine the result of the war.
The capital of a state, from its political importance as well as its military influence, is almost always a decisive strategic point, and its capture is therefore frequently the object of an entire campaign. The possession of Genoa, Turin, Alexandria, Milan, &c., in 1796, both from their political and military importance, had a decided influence upon the results of the war in these several states. In the same way Venice, Rome, and Naples, in 1797, Vienna, in the campaigns of 1805 and 1809, Berlin, in 1806, Madrid, in 1808, and Paris, in 1814 and 1815. If Hannibal had captured the capital immediately after the battle of Cannæ;, he would thus have destroyed the Roman power. The taking of Washington, in 1814, had little or no influence on the war, for the place was then of no importance in itself, and was a mere nominal capital. It, however, greatly influenced our reputation abroad, and required many brilliant successes to wash the blot from our national escutcheon.
Lines of defence in strategy are either permanent or temporary. The great military frontiers of a state, especially when strengthened by natural and artificial obstacles, such as chains of mountains, rivers, lines of fortresses, &c., are regarded as permanent lines of defence. The Alpine range between France and Piedmont, with its fortified passes; the Rhine, the Oder, and the Elbe, with their strongly-fortified places; the Pyrenees, with Bayonne at one extremity and Perpignon at the other; the triple range of fortresses on the Belgian frontier—are all permanent lines of defence. The St. Lawrence river is a permanent line of defence for Canada; and the line of lake Champlain, the upper St. Lawrence, and the lakes, for the United States.
Temporary lines of defence are such as are taken up merely for the campaign. Napoleon's position in Saxony, in 1813; the line of the allies in Belgium, in 1815; the line of the Marne, in 1814, are examples of temporary lines of defence.
It will be seen from these remarks that lines of defence are not necessarily bases of operation.
Strategic positions are such as are taken up during the operations of a war, either by a corps d'armée or grand detachment, for the purpose of checking or observing an opposing force; they are named thus to distinguish them from tactical positions or fields of battle. The positions of Napoleon at Rivoli, Verona, and Legnano, in 1796 and 1797, to watch the Adige; his positions on the Passarge, in 1807, and in Saxony and Silesia in front of his line of defence, in 1813; and Massena's positions on the Albis, along the Limmat and the Aar, in 1799, are examples under this head.
Before proceeding further it may be well to illustrate the strategic relations of lines and positions by the use of diagrams.
([Fig. 1.]) The army at A covers the whole of the ground in rear of the line DC perpendicular to the line AB, the position of the enemy being at B.
![[Fig. 1.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-5586402595230542680.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
([Fig. 2.]) AJ being equal to BJ, A will still cover every thing in rear of DC.
![[Fig. 2.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-3210933463096306581.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
([Fig. 3.]) If the army A is obliged to cover the point a, the army B will cover all the space without the circle whose radius is aB; and of course A continues to cover the point a so long as it remains within this circle aB.
![[Fig. 3.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-5029974506122660734.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
A line of operations embraces that portion of the theatre of war which an army or corps d'armée passes over in attaining its object; the front of operations is the front formed by the army as it advances on this line.
When an army acts as a single mass, without forming independent corps, the line it follows is denominated a simple line of operations.
If two or more corps act in an isolated manner, but against the same opposing force, they are said to follow double or multiple lines.
The lines by which Moreau and Jourdan entered Germany in 1796, were double lines; but Napoleon's advance by Bamberg and Gera, in 1806, although moving in seven distinct corps d'armée, formed but a single line of operations.
Interior lines of operations are those followed by an army which operates between the enemy's lines in such a way as to be able to concentrate his forces on one of these lines before the other can be brought to its assistance. For example, Napoleon's line of operations in 1814, between the Marne and the Seine, where he manœuvred with so much skill and success against the immensely superior forces of the allies.
Exterior lines present the opposite results; they are those which an army will form in moving on the extremities of the opposing masses. For example, the lines of the Marne and the Seine, followed by the army of Silesia and the grand Austro-Russian army, in the campaign of 1814. Burgoyne's line of operations, in 1777, was double and exterior.
Concentric lines are such as start from distant points, and are directed towards the same object, either in the rear or in advance of their base.
If a mass leaves a single point and separates into several distinct corps, taking divergent directions, it is said to pursue eccentric lines.
Lines are said to be deep, when the end to be attained is very distant from the base.
The lines followed by a secondary or auxiliary force are denominated secondary lines.
The lines pursued by the army of the Sombre-et-Meuse in 1796, and by Bagration in 1812, were secondary lines, as the former were merely secondary to the army of the Rhine, and the latter to that of Barclay.
Accidental lines are those which result from a change in the primitive plan of campaign, which give a new direction to the operations. These are of rare occurrence, but they sometimes lead to important results.
The direction given to a line of operations depends not only on the geographical situation of the country, but also on the positions occupied by the enemy. The general plan of campaign is frequently determined on previous to beginning operations, but the choice of lines and positions must ordinarily result from the ulterior events of the war, and be made by the general as these events occur.
As a general rule, a line of operations should be directed upon the centre, or one of the extremities of the enemy's line of defence; unless our forces be infinitely superior in number, it would be absurd to act against the front and extremities at the same time.
If the configuration of the theatre of operations be favorable to a movement against the extremity of the enemy's line of defence, this direction maybe best calculated to lead to important results. ([Fig.4.])
![[Fig.4.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-6242525048983159263.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
In 1800 the army of the Rhine was directed against the extreme left of the line of the Black Forest; the army of reserve was directed by the St. Bernard and Milan on the extreme right and rear of Melas's line of defence: both operations were most eminently successful. ([Fig. 5.])
![[Fig. 5.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-7742841552762600372.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
It may be well to remark that it is not enough merely to gain the extremity and rear of the enemy, for in that case it may be possible for him to throw himself on our communications and place us in the very dilemma in which we had hoped to involve him. To avoid this danger it is necessary to give such a direction to the line of operations that our army shall preserve its communications and be able to reach its base.
Thus, if Napoleon, in 1800, after crossing the Alps, had marched by Turin on Alexandria and received battle at Marengo, without having first secured Lombardy and the left of the Po, his own line of retreat would have been completely cut off by Melas; whereas, by the direction which he gave to his line of operations he had, in case of reverse, every means for reaching either the Var or the Valois. ([Fig. 6.]) Again, in 1806, if he had marched directly from Gera to Leipsic, he would have been cut off from his base on the Rhine; whereas, by turning from Gera towards Weimar, he not only cut off the Prussians from the Elbe, but at the same time secured to himself the roads of Saalfield, Schleitz, and Hoff, thus rendering perfectly safe his communications in his rear. ([Fig. 7.])
![[Fig. 6.]](#1647482048503906327_453.gif.id-5774010070962239817.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
![[Fig. 7.]](#1647482048503906327_453.gif.id-7719656089995192824.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
We have said that the configuration of the ground and the position of the hostile forces may sometimes render it advisable to direct our line of operations against the extremity of the enemy's line of defence; but, as a general rule a central direction will lead to more important results. This severs the enemy's means of resistance, and enables the assailant to strike, with the mass of his force, upon the dissevered and partially paralyzed members of the hostile body. ([Fig. 8.])
![[Fig. 8.]](#1647482048503906327_451.gif.id-5678076531374302165.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
Such a plan of operations enabled Napoleon, in the Italian campaigns of 1796 and 1797, to pierce and destroy, with a small force, the large and successive armies which Austria sent against him. In 1805 his operations were both interior and central: in 1808 they were most eminently central: in 1809, by the central operations in the vicinity of Ratisbonne, he defeated the large and almost victorious army of the Archduke Charles: in 1814, from his central position between the Marne and Seine, with only seventy thousand men against a force of more than two hundred thousand, he gained numerous victories, and barely failed of complete success. Again in 1815, with an army of only one hundred and twenty thousand men against an allied force of two hundred and twenty thousand, by his central advance on Charleroi and Ligny, he gained a most decided advantage over the enemy—an advantage lost by the eccentric movement of Grouchy: and even in 1813, his central position at Dresden would have secured him most decisive advantages, had not the faults of his lieutenants lost these advantages in the disasters of Kulm and the Katzbach.
For the same frontier it is objectionable to form more than one army; grand detachments and corps of observation may frequently be used with advantage, but double or multiple lines of operation are far less favorable than one simple line. It may however sometimes occur that the position of the enemy's forces will be such as to make this operation the preferable one. In that case, interior lines should always be adopted, unless we have a vast superiority in number. Double exterior lines, with corps several days' march asunder, must be fatal, if the enemy, whether acting on single or double interior lines, take advantage of his position to concentrate his masses successively against our isolated forces. The Roman armies under the consuls Flaminius and Servilius opposed Hannibal on exterior lines, the one by Florence and Arrezzio, and the other by Modena and Ariminum. Hannibal turned the position of Flaminius and attacked the Roman armies separately, gaining a complete and decisive victory. Such also was the character of the operations of the French in 1795, under Pichegru and Jourdan; they met with a bloody and decisive defeat. Again in 1796, the French armies under Jourdan and Moreau, pursued exterior lines; the Archduke Charles, from his interior position, succeeded in defeating both the opposing generals, and forcing them to retreat. If the two armies united had pursued a single line, the republican flag had been carried in triumph to Vienna.
Converging lines of operation are preferable, under most circumstances, to diverging lines. Care should be taken, however, that the point of meeting be such that it may not be taken as a strategic position by the enemy, and our own forces be destroyed in detail, before they can effect a junction. In 1797 the main body of the Austrians, under Alvinzi, advanced against Napoleon, on three separate lines, intending to concentrate at Rivoli, and then attack the French in mass; but Napoleon took his strategic position at Rivoli, and overthrew the enemy's corps as they successively appeared. In the same way the Archduke Charles took an interior position, between Moreau and Jourdan, in 1796, and prevented them from concentrating their forces on a single point. Wurmser and Quasdanowich attempted to concentrate their forces on the Mincio, by moving on the opposite shores of Lake Garda; but Napoleon took an interior position and destroyed them. In 1815 Blucher and Wellington, from their interior position, prevented the junction of Napoleon and Grouchy.
Diverging lines may be employed with advantage against an enemy immediately after a successful battle or strategic manœuvre; for by this means we separate the enemy's forces, and disperse them; and if occasion should require it, may again concentrate our forces by converging lines. Such was the manœuvre of Frederick the Great, in 1757, which produced the battles of Rosbach and Leuthen; such also was the manœuvre of Napoleon at Donawert in 1805, at Jena in 1806, and at Ratisbon in 1809.
Interior lines of operations, when properly conducted, have almost invariably led to success: indeed every instance of failure may be clearly traced to great unskilfulness in their execution, or to other extraneous circumstances of the campaign. There may, however, be cases where it will be preferable to direct our forces on the enemy's flank; the geographical character of the theatre of war, the position of other collateral forces, &c., rendering such a direction necessary. But as a general rule, interior and central lines, for an army of moderate forces, will lead to decisive results.
Napoleon's Italian campaigns in 1796 and 1797, the campaign of the Archduke Charles in 1796, Napoleon's campaigns of 1805 and 1809 against Austria, and of 1806 and 1807 against Prussia and Russia, of 1808 in Spain, his manœuvres in 1814, between the battle of Brienne and that of Paris, and his operations previous to the Battle of Ligny in 1815, are all brilliant examples under this head.
To change the line of operations, in the middle of a campaign, and follow accidental lines, is always a delicate affair, and can only be resorted to by a general of great skill, and with disciplined troops. In such a case it may be attended with important results. It was one of Napoleon's maxims, that "a line of operations, when once chosen, should never be abandoned." This maxim, however, must sometimes be disregarded by an army of undisciplined troops, in order to avoid entire destruction; but the total abandonment of a line of operations is always attended with great loss, and should be regarded as a mere choice of evils. A regular army can always avoid this result, by changing the direction of its line; thus frequently gaining superior advantages in the new theatre of action. If the plan of this change be the result of a good coup d'oeil, and it be skilfully executed, the rear of the operating army will be secure from the enemy; and moreover, he will be left in doubt respecting its weak points. But such is the uncertainty of this manœuvre, that it is very rarely taken by the best troops, unless actually forced upon them. If the army be of incongruous materials, generally a change of direction will be less advantageous than to entirely abandon the line, and save as many as possible of the troops for some new plan of operations. (Maxim 20.) If, however, the undisciplined army be sustained by fortifications, it can take up the accidental line of operations in the same manner, and with the same probability of success, as is done by a regular force.
We have examples of accidental lines in the operations of the king of Prussia, after the battle of Hohenkirchen, and of Washington, in New-Jersey, after the action of Princeton. This is one of the finest in military history. Napoleon had projected a change in his line of operations, in case he lost the battle of Austerlitz; but victory rendered its execution unnecessary. Again in 1814 he had planned an entire change of operations; but the want of co-operation of the forces under Mortier and Marmont forced him to abandon a plan which, if properly executed, had probably defeated the allies. Jomini pronounced it one of the most brilliant of his military career.
Having explained the principal terms used in strategy, let us trace out the successive operations of war in their usual strategic relations.
We will suppose war to be declared, and the army to be just entering upon a campaign. The political and military authorities of the state determine upon the nature of the war, and select the theatre of its enterprises. The chief selects certain points, on or near the borders of the seat of war, where his troops are to be assembled, and his materiel collected. These points, together, form his base of operations. He now selects some point, within the theatre of the war, as the first object of his enterprises, and chooses the line of operations most advantageous for reaching this objective point. The temporary positions taken on this line become strategic positions, and the line in his rear, a line of defence. When he arrives in the vicinity of his first object, and the enemy begins to oppose his enterprises, he must force this enemy to retreat, either by an attack or by manœuvres. For this purpose he temporarily adopts certain lines of manœuvre, which may deviate from his general line of operations. The ulterior events of the campaign may possibly cause him to make these new, or accidental lines, his lines of operations. The approach of hostile forces may cause him to detach secondary corps on secondary lines; or to divide his army, and pursue double or multiple lines. The primitive object may also be relinquished, and new ones proposed, with new lines and new plans of operations. As he advances far from his primitive base, he forms new dépôts and lines of magazines. He may encounter natural and artificial obstacles. To cross large rivers in the face of an enemy is a hazardous operation; and he requires all the art of the engineer in constructing bridges, and securing a safe passage for his army. If a fortified place is to be taken, he will detach a siege corps, and either continue his march with the main army, or take a strategic position to cover this siege. Thus Napoleon, in 1796, with an army of only 50,000 combatants, could not venture to penetrate into Austria, with Mantua and its garrison of 25,000 men in his rear, and an Austrian force of 40,000 before him. But in 1806 the great superiority of his army enabled him to detach forces to besiege the principal fortresses of Silesia, and still to continue his operations with his principal forces. The chief of the army may meet the enemy under circumstances such as to induce or compel him to give battle. If he should be victorious, the enemy must be pursued and harassed to the uttermost. If he should be defeated, he must form the best plan, and provide the best means of retreat. If possible, he must take shelter in some line of fortifications, and prepare to resume the offensive. Lines of intrenchment and temporary works may sometimes serve him as a sufficient protection. Finally, when the unfavorable season compels him to suspend his operations, he will go into winter cantonments, and prepare for a new campaign.
Such are the ordinary operations of war: its relations to strategy must be evident, even to the most superficial reader.
Not unfrequently the results of a campaign depend more upon the strategic operations of an army, than upon its victories gained in actual combat. Tactics, or movements within the range of the enemy's cannon, is therefore subordinate to the choice of positions: if the field of battle be properly chosen, success will be decisive, and the loss of the battle not disastrous; whereas, if selected without reference to the principles of the science, the victory, if gained, might be barren, and defeat, if suffered, totally fatal: thus demonstrating the truth of Napoleon's maxim, that success is oftener due to the genius of the general, and to the nature of the theatre of war, than to the number and bravery of the soldiers. (Maxim 17, 18.)
We have a striking illustration of this in the French army of the Danube, which, from the left wing of General Kray, marched rapidly through Switzerland to the right extremity of the Austrian line, "and by this movement alone conquered all the country between the Rhine and Danube without pulling a trigger."
Again, in 1805, the army of Mack was completely paralyzed, and the main body forced to surrender, at Ulm, without a single important battle. In 1806, the Prussians were essentially defeated even before the battle of Jena. The operations about Heilesberg, in 1807, the advance upon Madrid, in 1808, the manœuvres about Ratisbon, in 1809, the operations of the French in 1814, and the first part of the campaign of 1815, against vastly superior numbers, are all familiar proofs of the truth of the maxim.
Strategy may therefore be regarded as the most important, though least understood, of all the branches of the military art.[[4]]
Strategy may be learned from didactic works or from general military histories. There are very few good elementary works on this branch of the military art. The general treatises of the Archduke Charles, and of General Wagner, in German, (the former has been translated into French,) are considered as the best. The discussions of Jomini on this subject in his great work on the military art, are exceedingly valuable; also the writings of Rocquancourt, Jacquinot de Presle, and Gay de Vernon. The last of these has been translated into English, but the translation is exceedingly inaccurate. The military histories of Lloyd, Templehoff, Jomini, the Archduke Charles, Grimoard, Gravert, Souchet, St. Cyr, Beauvais, Laverne, Stutterheim, Wagner, Kausler, Gourgaud and Montholon, Foy, Mathieu Dumas, Ségur, Pelet, Koch, Clausewitz, and Thiers, may be read with great advantage. Napier's History of the Peninsular War is the only English History that is of any value as a military work: it is a most excellent book. Alison's great History of Europe is utterly worthless to the military man; the author is ignorant of the first principles of the military art, and nearly every page is filled with the grossest blunders.
We subjoin the titles of a few of the best works that treat of strategy, either directly or in connection with military history.
Principes de la Stratégie, &c., par le Prince Charles, traduit de l'Allemand, 3 vols. in 8vo. This is a work of great merit. The technical terms, however, are very loosely employed.
Précis de l'Art de la Guerre, par le Baron Jomini. His chapter on strategy embodies the principles of this branch of the art.
Grundsätze der Strategic, Von Wagner.
Cours Elémentaire d'Art et d'Histoire Militaire, par Rocquancourt. This work contains much valuable information connected with the history of the art of war; but it is far too diffuse and ill-arranged for an elementary book.
Cours d'Art et d'Histoire Militaire, par Jacquinot de Presle. This work is especially designed for cavalry officers, and the other branches of military service are but very briefly discussed.
De Vernon's Treatise on the Science of War and Fortification contains much valuable information; but, as an elementary book, it has the same objections as that of Rocquancourt.
History of the Seven Years' War, by Lloyd and Templehoff. The military writings of Lloyd and Templehoff are valuable as connected with the history of strategy; but many of the principles laid down by these writers are now regarded as erroneous.
Mémoires de Napoléon. The Memoirs of Napoleon, as dictated by himself to Gourgaud and Montholon, have been translated into English. It is hardly necessary to remark that they contain all the general principles of military art and science. No military man should fail to study them thoroughly. The matter is so condensed, and important principles are embodied in so few words, that they are not easily understood by the ordinary reader, and probably will never be popular with the multitude.
Essai général de Tactique, par Guibert. A work very popular in its day, but now far less valuable than the writings already mentioned.
Ausführliche Beschreibung der Schlacht des Pirmasens, von Gravert. Regarded by military men as a valuable historical fragment.
Mémoires sur les Campagnes en Espagne. Souchet.
Mémoires de Gouvion St. Cyr.
Statistique de la Guerre, par Reveroni St. Cyr.
Première Campagnes de la Revolution, par Grimoard.
Victoires et Conquêtes. Beauvais.
Campagnes de Suwarrow. Laverne.
Histoire de la Guerre de la Péninsule. Foy.
Précis des Evénements Militaires. Mathieu Dumas.
Histoire de Napoléon et de la Grande Armée en 1812. Ségur
Mémoires sur la Guerre de 1809. Pelet.
La Campagne de 1814. Koch.
Vom Kriege—Die Feldzügge, &c. Clausewitz.
La Révolution, le Consulat et l'Empire. Thiers.
Mémoires sur la Guerre de 1812—sur la Campagne du Vice roi en Italie, en 1813 et 1814; Histoire de la Guerre en Allemagne en 1814; Histoire des Campagnes de 1814 et 1815, en France. Vaudoncourt.
Essai sur l'Art Militaire, &c. Carion-Nisas.
Histoire de l'Expédition en Russie en 1812. Chambray.
War in Spain, Portugal, and the South of France. John Jones.
Peninsular War. Napier.
Notices of the War of 1812. Armstrong
All the above are works of merit; but none are more valuable to the military man than the military histories of Jomini and Kausler, with their splendid diagrams and maps.
CHAPTER III.
FORTIFICATIONS.
Fortifications, or engineering, may be considered with reference to the defence of states and the grand operation of armies; or with reference to the details of the construction, and attack, and defence of forts, and the influence of field-works on the tactical manœuvres of armies. It is proposed to speak here only of its general character, as a branch of the military art, without entering into any professional discussion of details.
The connection of fortification and strategy may be considered under two distinct heads: 1st, the choice of sites for constructing fortresses for defence; 2d, their influence in offensive operations, and the determination of the question whether they can be passed with safety, or whether the attacking force will be under the necessity of besieging them.
The centre and extremities of a base of operations should always be secured either by natural or artificial obstacles. This base is generally chosen so that fortifications will be necessary for strengthening only a part of the line. But if a frontier, like the side of France towards Belgium, be destitute of natural obstacles, the artificial means of defence must be proportionally increased. Great care should be taken that permanent fortifications be made only on such places as may favor military operations. If otherwise, the troops detached from the active army for garrisoning them, will only tend to weaken this force without any corresponding advantages. In this way, fortifications may become actually injurious to defence. A number of the European fortresses which were built before the subject of strategy was properly understood, are now regarded as utterly useless, from their ill-advised positions.
Whether a fortress may be safely passed with merely blockading or observing it, depends very much upon the nature of the war, and the numbers and position of the defensive army. The allies, in 1814, invading France with a million of soldiers, assisted by the political diversion of factions and Bourbonists within the kingdom, and treason in the frontier fortresses, and even in the ranks of Napoleon's army, could conduct their military operations on a very different plan from that which would be adopted by either Austria, Prussia, Russia, England, Spain, Portugal, Holland, Italy, and the German powers, if singly waging war with the French. Napoleon sometimes detached a corps to observe a fortress which threatened his line of operations or of manœuvre; at others, he delayed his advance till the place could be reduced.
"An army," says Jomini, "may sometimes penetrate between places on an open frontier, to attack the enemy's forces in the field, taking care at the same time to observe these places; but no invading army can cross a great river, like the Danube, the Rhine, or the Elbe, without reducing at least one of the fortresses on that river, so as to secure a line of retreat; but being in possession of such a place, it can continue the offensive, while its matériel de siège successively reduces the other places."
In case the main army is obliged to remain and cover the besieging corps, it should take some central position, where it can command all the avenues of approach, and fall with vigor on the enemy, should he attempt to raise the siege. Napoleon's operations before Mantua, in 1796, offer the finest model for imitation.
The old system of intrenched camps and lines of contravallation is unsuited to the spirit of modern warfare. In ancient times, and more particularly in the middle ages, too much importance was attached to tactical positions, and not enough to strategic points and lines. This gave to fortifications a character that never properly belonged to them. From the middle ages down to the period of the French Revolution, wars were carried on mainly by the system of positions—one party confining their operations to the security of certain important places, while the other directed their whole attention to the siege and capture of these places. But Carnot and Napoleon changed this system, at the same time with the system of tactics, or rather, returned from it to the old and true system of strategic operations. Some men, looking merely at the fact that a change was made, but without examining the character of that change, have rushed headlong to the conclusion that fortified places are now utterly useless in war, military success depending entirely upon a good system of marches.
On this subject, General Jomini, the great military historian of the wars of the French Revolution, remarks that "we should depend entirely upon neither organized masses, nor upon material obstacles, whether natural or artificial. To follow exclusively either of these systems would be equally absurd. The true science of war consists in choosing a just medium between the two extremes. The wars of Napoleon demonstrated the great truth, that distance can protect no country from invasion, but that a state, to be secure, must have a good system of fortresses, and a good system of military reserves and military institutions."
In all military operations time is of vast importance. If a single division of an army can be retarded for a few hours only, it not unfrequently decides the fate of the campaign. Had the approach of Blucher been delayed for a few hours, Napoleon must have been victorious at the battle of Waterloo. An equilibrium can seldom be sustained for more than six or seven hours between forces on the field of battle; but in this instance, the state of the ground rendered the movements so slow as to prolong the battle for about twelve hours; thus enabling the allies to effect a concentration in time to save Wellington.
Many of Napoleon's brilliant victories resulted from merely bringing troops to bear suddenly upon some decisive point. Rivoli in 1796-7, Marengo in 1800, Ulm in 1805, Jena in 1806, Ratisbon in 1809, Brienne in 1814, and Ligny in 1815, are familiar examples. But this concentration of forces, even with a regular army, cannot be calculated on by the general with any degree of certainty, unless his communications are perfectly secure. And this difficulty is very much increased where the troops are new and undisciplined. When a country like ours is invaded, large numbers of such troops must suddenly be called into the field. Not knowing the designs of the invaders, much time will be lost in marches and countermarches; and if there be no safe places of resort the operations must be indecisive and insecure.
To a defensive army fortifications are valuable as points of repose, upon which the troops, if beaten, may fall back, and shelter their sick and wounded, collect their scattered forces, repair their materials, and draw together a new supply of stores and provisions; and as rallying points, where new troops may be assembled with safety, and the army, in a few days, be prepared to again meet the enemy in the open field. Without these defences, undisciplined and inexperienced armies, when once routed, can seldom be rallied again, except with great losses. But when supported by forts, they can select their opportunity for fighting, and offer or refuse battle according to the probability of success; and, having a safe place of retreat, they are far less influenced by fear in the actual conflict.
The enemy, on the other hand, being compelled either to besiege or observe these works, his army will be separated from its magazines, its strength and efficiency diminished by detachments, and his whole force exposed to the horrors of partisan warfare. It has therefore been estimated by the best military writers, that an army supported by a judicious system of fortifications, can repel a land force six times as large as itself.
Every government should prepare, in time of peace, its most prominent and durable means of defence. By securing in a permanent manner its important points, it will enable a small force to retain possession of these places against a greatly superior army, for a considerable length of time. This serves the same purpose as a battle gained; for, in the beginning of a war of invasion, the economy of time is of the utmost importance to the defensive party, enabling it to organize and prepare the great military resources of the state.
In all mountainous frontiers, or sides of states bordering on large rivers, or chains of lakes, there will necessarily be but few points by which an invader can penetrate into the interior of the country. Let us suppose that, for a frontier of moderate extent, there are five passes, or avenues through which the enemy may approach the interior. To effectually defend these approaches against the invading army will require, for each, an army of ten thousand men. Not being able to decide positively on the plans of the enemy, all these communications must be defended at the same time. This requires a defending army of fifty thousand men. Let us now suppose each of these passes to be fortified in such a way, that one thousand men will be able to hold the enemy in check, and force him to resort to the operations of a siege; or, at least, to retard his advance till an active army can be organized in the interior, and prepared to meet him in the field. We here see that five thousand men, by means of fortifications, can accomplish the same defensive object as fifty thousand men without these artificial means of security.
But let us enter a little more into the details of frontier defences, and examine the character of the several systems which have been successively proposed or adopted. Frontiers are divided into four distinct classes, according as the state may be open on one or more sides, or bounded by mountains, large rivers and lakes, or by the sea.
An open frontier is the most difficult of defence; and while there exists a perfect uniformity among military men upon the vast importance of fortifying such a frontier, there is an equal diversity of opinion respecting the best manner of arranging these works. We shall here mention three general systems of arranging forts for the defence of an open country, each of which has been advocated at different times, and afterwards received various modifications and additions. These three systems comprise the main features of all others worthy of much consideration. They are:—
1st. The system of continuous lines, proposed by Montalembert.
2d. A system of three lines of detached works, strongly recommended by D'Arçon and others.
3d. A system proposed by Vauban, and advocated by Rogniat, consisting of lines of very strong works, placed at considerable distances from each other and covering large intrenched camps.
The first of these systems was proposed in 1790, and for a time attracted considerable notice in France, but has long since been discarded, as being utterly incompatible with the principles of the military art. A writer, however, of some pretensions in this country, recommends its adoption for the defence of Baltimore and the shores of the Chesapeake. The same author would dispense entirely with our present system of fortifications on the sea-coast, and substitute in their place wooden Martello towers! This would be very much like building 120 gun ships at Pittsburg and Memphis, for the defence of the Ohio and the Mississippi rivers, and sending out duck-boats to meet the enemy on the Atlantic!
In the second system, the works on the extreme frontier are to be placed about thirty or forty miles apart, and those of the second and third lines respectively thirty or forty miles in rear of the first and second lines, and opposite the intervals.
In the third system, first recommended by Vauban and more recently by Rogniat, the works are to be arranged in the same manner as in that of D'Arçon, but the distance between them is to be from seventy to one hundred miles, and each fort arranged for covering a large intrenched camp.
Either of these last two systems is well suited to the defence of an open frontier. The former is applied to the side of France towards Belgium, and the latter, with certain modifications, to the defence of Western Germany. The first line of fortifications on the northern frontier of France consists of Dunkirk, Lille, Valenciennes, Condé, Quesnoy, Rocroi, Charlemont, Mézières, and Sedan; the second line, of Calais, Andres, St. Omer, Béthune, Arras, Douai, Chambrai, Landrecies, and Avesnes; the third line, of Boulogne, Montreuil, Hesdin, Abbeville, Amiens, Bapaume, Peronne, Ham, and Laon.
For mountainous frontiers it is deemed necessary to secure all the important passes with small redoubts or military works, and to defend with strong forts the grand interior strategic points on which these communications are directed. For a frontier of moderate extent there may be some six or eight gorges in the mountains by which an army might penetrate; but it will always be found that these roads concentrate on two or three points in the great valleys below. Take, for example, the frontier of France towards Switzerland and Italy. The passes of the mountains are secured by the little works of Fort L'Ecluse, Fort Pierre-châtel, Fort Barraux, Briançon, Mont Dauphin, Colmars, Entrevaux, and Antibes; while Besançon, Grenoble, and Toulon, form a second line; and Lyons a grand central dépôt.
Where a great river or chain of lakes forms the boundary of a state, the system of defence will be much the same as that of an open land frontier, the works of the first line being made to secure the great bridges or ferries by which the enemy might effect a passage; those of the second line, to cover the passes of the highlands that generally approach more or less near the great watercourse; and those of the third line, far enough in rear to protect the great internal communications of the country. Let us take, for example, the side of France bordering on the Rhine. Wissembourg and Lauterbourg, Fort Louis, Haguenau, Strasbourg, Schelstadt, Neuf-Brisach, and Huneguen, cover the several passages of the river; while Bitche, Phalsbourg, and Béfort form a second line; Thionville, Metz, and Toul, a third line; and Verdun a grand central dépôt.
The following are the principal objects proposed to be accomplished by fortifications on a sea-coast.
1st. To close all important harbors to an enemy, and secure them to the navy of the country.
2d. To prevent the enemy from forming an establishment on our shores, from which, by his naval superiority, he might destroy our commerce and keep the whole frontier in continual alarm.
3d. To cover our great cities against a maritime attack and bombardment.
4th. To cover our ship-yards and great naval dépôts.
5th. To prevent, as much as possible, the great avenues of interior navigation from being blockaded by naval means at their entrance into the ocean.
6th. To give to our navy facilities for protecting our coast trade from the enemy's ships of war, and our internal communications, which lie near the coast, from maritime descents.
Let us notice how France has attempted to accomplish this object. The Mediterranean frontier has Fort Quarré, Fort St. Marguérite, St. Tropez, Brigançon, the forts of Point Man, of l'Ertissac, and of Langoustier, Toulon, St. Nicholas, Castle of If, Marseilles, Tour de Boue, Aigues-Montes, Fort St. Louis, Fort Brescou, Narbonne, Château de Salces, Perpignan, Collioure, Fort St. Elme, and Port Vendre. Toulon is the great naval dépôt for this frontier, and Marseilles the great commercial port. Both are well secured by strong fortifications. The Atlantic frontier has Bayonne; the forts of Royan, Grave, Medoc, Paté, &c., on the Gironde; Rochefort, with the forts of Chapus, Lapin, Aix, Oleron, &c., to cover the roadstead; La Rochelle, with the forts of the Isle of Ré; Sables, with the forts of St. Nicholas, and Des Moulines, Isle Dieu, Belle Isle, Fort du Pilier, Mindin, Ville Martin; Quiberon, with Fort Penthièvre; L'Orient, with its harbor defences; Fort Cigogne; Brest, with its harbor defences; St. Malo, with Forts Cézembre, La Canchée, L'Anse du Verger, and Des Rimains; Cherbourg, with its defensive forts and batteries; Havre, Dieppe, Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk. Cherbourg, Brest, and Rochefort, are great naval dépôts; and Havre, Nantes, and Bordeaux, the principal commercial ports. Many of the works above enumerated are small in extent and antiquated in their construction, and some of them quite old and dilapidated nevertheless, they have heretofore been found sufficient for the defence of the naval dépôts and commercial seaports of France against the superior naval forces of her neighbor.
Omitting for the present all discussion of sea-coast defences, let us examine more particularly the character and influence of fortifications on land frontiers.
All military writers agree that fortifications have heretofore exerted a great, and frequently a decisive, influence on the operations of a war. Those of France are frequently referred to as proofs of this influence. But, while all are disposed to allow that these works contributed much in former times to the defence of states, yet some have said that modern improvements in the mode of attack have rendered forts far less valuable than formerly.
Such, however, is not the case. Improvements in the mode of attack have not kept pace with the facilities of locomotion; and, although fortifications do not now usually sustain a siege of as many days as in former times, still, as compared with the relative lengths of campaigns in ancient and modern wars, the proportional length of sieges is now even greater than formerly. When the same is accomplished in a campaign of seven weeks as was formerly done in a war of seven years, it is not necessary that fortified places should hold out a very long time. A place that can sustain a siege of a month is now deemed sufficiently strong for ordinary campaigns; for by the end of that time the defensive army will either be destroyed, or be able to come to its succor. In either case a longer defence would not be required.
A reference to the most important sieges of the last century or two will show that forts are, on an average, capable of sustaining a siege for more than that length of time. Lille, in 1708, held the allies in check for a whole year; and again, in 1792, compelled the Austrians to raise the siege after an unsuccessful attack of fifteen days.
Antwerp, in 1585, sustained a siege of fourteen months against greatly superior forces; in 1814 Carnot defended the citadel of this place for four months, and until an armistice had been concluded between the contending parties; in 1832, it sustained, with a garrison of only 4,500 men and 145 pieces of ordnance, a siege of twenty-five days, against a force of 55,000 men and 223 cannon.