Part 10

In pursuance of his cautious plan he neglected no essential fortress or city; he held the passages of important rivers by erecting bridge-heads or occupying towns; he kept upon his line of operations suitable detachments, or met descents upon it by a prompt movement towards the enemy. He so managed the division of his forces as not to endanger his strength nor to lose the ability to concentrate. He used his allies for the work they could best perform. He kept the main offensive in his own hands, generally so ordering that his lieutenants should act on the defensive, unless they outnumbered the enemy, and then made them push with vigor. He uniformly did the right thing at the right moment.

The secret of Gustavus’ success lay in his breadth of plan, in his constancy to the work cut out, and in his properly adapting boldness or caution to the existing circumstances. As with Alexander, Hannibal, and Cæsar, it was the man himself whose soul illumined his work; and this man had those transcendent qualities which produce incomparable results in war, whenever they coexist with great events. Equal as monarch and soldier, he united in his one person the art of both. His nation and army were devoted to him soul and body. His motives were the highest and purest which have ever inspired a great captain; his pursuit of them was steadfast and noble, open-handed and above-board, prudent and intrepid. In weighing his intelligence, sound judgment, strong will, elevated sentiment, energy and vigilance, he is properly put in the highest rank. But though his record cannot perhaps vie with the others in the brilliancy of his tactics, in the splendor of his victories, in extent of conquest, in immensity of ambition, in the surmounting of all but impossible natural or artificial barriers, in resisting overwhelming disaster with heroic constancy,--still, if we look at the man, upon the results of what he did, at the purposeless and barbarous nature of war as conducted up to his day; if we weigh the influence of his short campaigns upon all modern war, and consider how his nobility of character and his life-work has made toward civilization, we cannot rate Gustavus Adolphus too high. His pointing out the importance of key-points in holding a country; the value of feeding an army by careful accumulation of supplies, instead of by ravaging every territory it enters; the advantage of a carefully drawn plan extending over the entire theatre of operations; and the propriety of waging war in a more Christian and civilized spirit,--marks the first step towards the modern system. Gustavus Adolphus must be called the father of the modern art of war; and is acknowledged as the one of all others who re-created systematic, intellectual war, and stripped war of its worst horrors.

After his death, his lieutenants tried fruitlessly to carry on his methods. They retained a part of what he gave them; in many things they slid back into the old ruts; and war (except with masters like Turenne, Prince Eugene, and Marlborough) resumed its character of isolated raids, until Frederick once more elevated it and stamped upon it a permanence which it cannot now lose.

Among his enemies, during the remainder of the Thirty Years’ War there was nothing but the extremity of barbarous methods, over which it is well to draw a veil.

Gustavus Adolphus was tall, handsome, and strong. In his later years he grew so heavy that none but well-bred horses of great bone and endurance could carry him. But he rode fast and far. His bearing was noble, full of simple complaisance, and genuine. His quick mind robbed work of effort; his ideas were clear, and he expressed them crisply and in happy words; his voice was rich, his manner convincing. A remarkable memory served to retain the names and merits of his subordinate officers and numberless worthy men. He maintained stern discipline in a just and kindly spirit. His religious fervor was as honest as his courage was high-pitched. The Bible was his constant companion and guide. He began all his acts with unaffected prayer, and ended with thanksgiving. The Christian virtues never resided in a more princely soul. He was sober, of simple habit, and upright life. Towering over all around him in mind and heart, and inflexible withal, he was yet modest and ready to weigh the opinions of others. A tireless worker, he demanded equal exertion from his officials and aides. But in his intercourse with all men were kingly condescension and dignity joined. He was more than monarch,--he was a man.

What has Gustavus Adolphus done for the art of war? In a tactical sense, many things. Before him, not a few noted generals had introduced improvements naturally growing out of the introduction of gunpowder. Gustavus made various changes towards greater mobility. The cumbrous armies of the day were marshalled in battalia, which were huge, dense squares or phalanxes of deep files of musketeers and pikemen mixed, awkward and unwieldy. The recruiting of the day assembled many men of many minds, and the three arms worked at cross-purposes. Gustavus began by reducing the pikemen to one-third the entire infantry, and later (1631) formed whole regiments of musketeers alone. He lightened the musket, did away with the crutch-rest, till then used in firing, introduced wheel-locks, paper cartridges, and cartridge-boxes. He taught his men a much quicker manual of aims. The times and motions of loading and firing had been some one hundred and sixty; Gustavus reduced them to ninety-five, which sounds absurdly slow to us to-day. But his men none the less vastly exceeded the enemy in rapidity of fire. He lightened the guns of his artillery, and made the drill of other arms conform to its manœuvres, so that his whole army worked with one purpose. His batteries became active and efficient. In the Thirty Years’ War he generally had a preponderance of artillery over the Imperialists.

To secure better fire, Gustavus reduced his musketeers to six ranks, which to fire closed into three. This it was which principally gave it so much greater nimbleness of foot. The troops were well armed and equipped, and uniformed for the first time. Few wagons were allowed per regiment, and effectual discipline prevailed. Severe regulations were enforced. The behavior of the Swedish troops was the marked reverse of that of Wallenstein’s and Tilly’s forces. Service and seniority alone secured promotion; nepotism was unknown. The force Gustavus created was the first truly national regular army.

So much for discipline and tactics, which, in themselves, are of minor value. But what has given Gustavus Adolphus unfading reputation as a captain is the conduct, for the first time in the Christian era, of a campaign in which the intellectual conception overrides the able, consistent, and at times brilliant execution. From a mere contest of animal courage he had raised war at one step to what it really should be, a contest in which mind and character win, and not brute force. Little wonder that Gustavus, landing at Rügen to attack the colossal power of the German Empire with his 15,000 men, should have excited the laughter of his enemies, and have provoked Wallenstein to exclaim that he would drive him back to his snow-clad kingdom with switches. It appeared like Don Quixote riding at the windmills. But his action was in truth founded on as substantial a calculation as Hannibal’s march into Italy, and was crowned with abundant results. The method of his work could not but win. And Gustavus did one thing more. He showed the world that war could be conducted within the bounds of Christian teachings; that arson, murder, rapine, were not necessary concomitants of able or successful war; that there was no call to add to the unavoidable suffering engendered of any armed strife, by inflicting upon innocent populations that which should be borne by the armies alone. In both these things he was first and preëminent, and to him belongs unqualifiedly the credit of proving to the modern world that war is an intellectual art; and the still greater credit of humanizing its conduct.

LECTURE V.

FREDERICK.

While Frederick II., or as Prussians love to call him “Friedrich der Einzige,” had been brought up by a military martinet, and had gone through every step by which a Hohenzollern must climb the ladder of army rank, he had, in youth, exhibited so little aptitude for the pipe-clay of war, that few suspected how great his military achievements were to be. But Prince Eugene, then the greatest living soldier, whom young Frederick joined with the Prussian contingent in 1733, is said to have discovered in him that which he pronounced would make him a great general. Frederick had been a keen student of history, and there is nothing which trains the high grade of intellect and the sturdy character which a good leader must possess as birthright, as does the study of the deeds of the great captains, for out of these alone can that knowledge be gleaned, or that inspiration be caught, which constitutes the value of the art. The camp and drill-ground, however essential, teach but the handicraft, not the art, of war.

We all know how Frederick’s youth was passed: how his father sought to mould him into the ramrod pattern of a grenadier, and how he avoided the system by constant subterfuge. He was an intelligent, attractive lad, witty and imaginative, and possessed a reserve of character which grew abreast with his father’s harshness. As we know, Frederick William’s brutality finally culminated in an attempt to punish by death the so-called desertion of his son, to which his own cruelty and insults had impelled him. The succeeding years of retirement were full of active work, and no doubt gave Frederick the business training which in after life made him so wonderful a financier, as well as the opportunity for study; and perhaps the tyranny of his father added to his constancy and self-reliance as well as to his obstinacy, than which no character in history ever exhibited greater. Frederick William, before his death, understood his son’s make-up. Frederick ascended the throne in 1740, and from that day on he was every inch a king.

Frederick had certain hereditary claims to Silesia, in the validity of which he placed entire confidence, though no doubt his belief was colored by the desirability of this province as an appanage of the Prussian crown. Maria Theresa was in the meshes of the Pragmatic Sanction imbroglio. Frederick determined to assert his claims. He was, thanks to his father, equipped with an army drilled, disciplined, and supplied as none since Cæsar’s day had been, unconquerable if only the divine breath were breathed into it, and a well-lined military chest. Giving Austria short shrift, he marched across the border and in a few weeks inundated Silesia with his troops. From this day until 1763, when it was definitely ceded to him, Frederick’s every thought was devoted to holding this province. Nothing could wrest it from his grasp.

His first campaign, however, brought him near discomfiture. Field-Marshal Neipperg quite out-manœuvred Frederick, who, under the tutelage of old Field-Marshal Schwerin, had failed to carry out his own ideas, and cut him off from his supply-camp at Ohlau. Seeking to regain it, the Prussian army ran across the Austrians at Mollwitz (April 10, 1741). Here, but for the discipline of the Prussian infantry, the battle would have been lost, for the Prussians were tactically defeated. But these wonderful troops, drilled to the highest grade of steadiness, had no idea of being beaten. To them rout and disaster on all sides were as nothing. They stood their ground like a stone wall, and their five shots to two of the enemy’s finally decided the day. The young king had been hurried off the field by Schwerin when defeat was imminent.

This campaign taught Frederick that in war he must rely only on himself. He never after allowed one of his generals to hamper his movements. Counsel was neither asked nor volunteered. Frederick was distinct head of the Army and State.

In the second campaign the king advanced, with the French and Saxons, in the direction of Vienna. But these allies proved weak, and Frederick was fain to abandon his project. Prince Charles made his way around the king’s right flank and threatened his supplies. But Frederick took prompt advantage of this manœuvre, and at the battle of Chotusitz (May 17, 1742) inflicted a stinging defeat on the Austrians. This ended the First Silesian War. Silesia became a Prussian province.

Frederick had learned good lessons. He had gained self-poise, and a knowledge of the hardships of war, the meannesses of courts, and the fact that he could trust no one but himself and his devoted legions. He was disenchanted. War was no longer a glory, but a stern, cold, fact. He had, however, won his point, and he proposed to maintain it, though he must give up the delights of his attractive French Court for the labors of his thoroughly German camp. He had found that his own conceptions of war ranged beyond the stereotyped routine of the Prussian army, though this indeed was not to be underrated. Silesia became valuable to Prussia beyond the wildest dreams of its worth by Austria, and, being allied by religion with North Germany, had every reason to remain satisfied and faithful.

It is generally assumed that great captains are fond of war for war’s sake, or for the lust of conquest. While often true, it was not so with Frederick. To none of the great captains was war so heartily distasteful. Not one was so fond of the pursuits of peace. The king had as marked a liking for the pleasures of literature, music, art, the companionship of clever men, and intellectual friction of all kinds, as any monarch who ever reigned. He cordially hated the hardships and mental strain of war. But Frederick would listen to no peace which should not leave him in possession of Silesia. His naturally inflexible nature could entertain no other idea. And for this he would fight if he must.

During the two years’ peace which ensued, Frederick prepared for the war which he knew must occur whenever Maria Theresa felt strong enough to attempt to reconquer her lost province. He was abundantly ready for it when it came in 1744. Austria had as allies England, Saxony, Sardinia, and some of the lesser German States. Frederick had France, the Emperor, the Elector Palatine, and Hesse Cassel. As usual, Frederick opened with a sharp offensive. Prague was taken, and from here, the French agreeing to neutralize Prince Charles, who was in the Rhine country, the king undertook a second operation toward Vienna (Sept., 1744). But this was equally unlucky. The French were shiftless. Field-Marshal Traun was joined by Prince Charles, and the two drove Frederick from his purpose. Traun would not come to battle, but worried the king by restless manœuvring. The Prussians were fortunate to reach Silesia without a serious disaster. Frederick had this time learned that confederates were like broken reeds, and that he himself was his own best ally. With the wonderful frankness which characterized him, the king acknowledged the ability of Traun, and the good lessons he had learned from this opponent.

Elate Prince Charles, early next year (1745), invaded Silesia with seventy-five thousand men and descended upon its fertile plains with flying colors, intending to march on Breslau. The king made no attempt to stop his crossing the mountains. “If you want to catch a mouse, leave the trap open,” quoth he, and lay in wait for him, with an equal force, behind Striegau Water. This time he was managing his own affairs. Prince Charles camped near Hohenfriedberg, unsuspicious of his vicinity (June 4). Silently, all night long, and with such precautions that he was not discovered, Frederick marched his men across the stream. His plan was perfectly worked out. Every man and officer had his orders by heart. Daylight had no sooner dawned than, with a tactical beauty of precision which reads like the meter of a martial poem, Frederick struck the Saxon left. Blow succeeded blow; battalion after battalion was hurled upon the enemy with a rapidity and certainty and momentum which the world had never yet seen. By eight o’clock--barely breakfast-time--the Saxons and Austrians were utterly overthrown. They had lost nine thousand killed and wounded, seven thousand prisoners, seventy-six standards, and sixty-six guns. Frederick’s whole performance--his first--had bordered on the marvellous.

The king followed the Austrians across the mountains. By careless detachments and small-war his forces fell to eighteen thousand men. Prince Charles had nearly forty thousand. Frederick was about to retire to Silesia, when Prince Charles surprised him, and appearing in rear of his right flank at Sohr, actually cut him off from his line of retreat. The prince had bagged his game. But not so thought Frederick, though his army stood with its back to the enemy. “They are two to one of us, but we will beat them yet, meine Kinder! You shall see!” exclaimed the king, and ordered a change of front of the army by a right wheel of over one-half circle, under a fire of artillery enfilading the whole line. Fancy an army doing such a thing to-day! The manœuvre was completed in perfect order. Not a man left the ranks unless shot down. The line came into oblique order opposite the Austrian left. And no sooner in place than the king flung his squadrons and regiments up the heights against the Austrians, who stood curiously watching the strange evolution. So audacious and skilful was the whole affair, and so brilliant the Prussian fighting, that the king inflicted another telling defeat, with loss of eight thousand men, twenty-two guns, and twelve flags, on the Austrian army (Sept. 30). After some manœuvring, during the winter peace was made, and Frederick kept Silesia. This was the Second Silesian War.

Such was Frederick’s apprenticeship. He emerged from it the best tactician the world has ever seen. As a strategist he had yet made no great mark.

The First and Second Silesian wars were succeeded by a ten years’ peace, which Frederick used to the best advantage in military preparations. His army became the one perfect machine of Europe.

In 1756 came the Seven Years’ War. Maria Theresa had resolved to regain Silesia at any cost. We can barely glance at the leading events of each year. In 1756 Frederick had Field-Marshal Brown opposed to him. He took Dresden, and defeating Brown at Lobositz, he captured the Saxon army at Pirna (October). The year’s end saw Saxony under Frederick’s control. The campaign was in every sense deserving its success.

In 1757, France, Russia, and Sweden made common cause with Austria. England was Frederick’s one reliance, and aided him with money and an observation-army in Hanover. No less than one hundred millions of population were arrayed against his scant five millions, including Silesia. The allies put four hundred and thirty thousand men on foot, Frederick one hundred and fifty thousand. Always first in the field and retaining the offensive, Frederick advanced on Prague in three large concentric columns, setting the sixth of May for meeting there and beating the Austrians. So accurate were his calculations and their execution by his lieutenants, that in the bloody battle of Prague, on the very day set, he drove Prince Charles and Field-Marshal Brown into the city and sat down before it.

But Field-Marshal Daun was not far off with an army of relief of sixty thousand men. To meet this serious threat, Frederick, from his lines at Prague, could barely detach thirty-four thousand, and in the battle of Kolin (June 18), by a series of _contretemps_, in part due to the king’s hasty temper,--though he had attacked and handled Daun so roughly that the latter actually gave the order of retreat,--he was finally beaten and obliged to raise the siege. But Frederick shone in reverse far higher than in success. From not only the field of battle but from the siege-lines of Prague he retired deliberately, without a symptom of flurry, and unopposed.

He was none the less in a desperate strait. He had but seventy thousand men available. In his front were the victorious Austrians, one hundred and ten thousand strong, elate and confident. On his left were approaching one hundred thousand Russians, and these not only threatened Berlin, but an Austrian raiding party actually took the suburbs. On his right, a French and Imperial army of sixty thousand threatened Dresden. The king’s case was forlorn. But he utilized to the full his central position. Turning on the French, and marching one hundred and seventy miles in twelve days,--a remarkable performance at that date,--he reached their vicinity at Rossbach, beyond the Saale. Soubise outnumbered Frederick nearly three to one. But in a simply exquisite manœuvre the king took advantage of the enemy’s error in trying to cut him off by a wide flank march, fell upon their head of column, and in a bare half-hour disgracefully routed them, with loss of eight thousand men, five generals, and four hundred officers, seventy guns, and numberless flags (Nov. 5). Having performed which feat, he at once turned his face toward Silesia, whence came alarming rumors.

During his absence disaster had piled on disaster. The Duke of Bevern, left in command, had been driven back to Silesia, and the Austrians had captured Breslau and Schweidnitz, and proclaimed Silesia again part of Her Imperial Majesty’s dominions. There is something so heroic, so king-like, about Frederick’s conduct in the ensuing campaign, which culminated in the battle of Leuthen, that I cannot refrain from enlarging upon it, as typical of the man.

As the king proceeded on his way, the news of what had happened gradually reached his ears. There had been, God wot, enough already to tax Frederick’s manliness, and such great misfortunes were fit to overwhelm him. But the king’s mettle was indomitable. There was not an instant of pause or hesitation. The greater the pressure, the more elastic his mood and his method. And he had the rare power of making his lieutenants partake of his buoyant courage. Nothing was ever lost to Frederick till he had played his final card. He would rather die with his last grenadier at the foot of the Austrian lines than yield one inch of Silesia. His men marched in light order, leaving the heavy trains behind, and making no stops to bake the usual bread. The king rationed his army on the country. This was not the first instance, but it had been rare, and but partially done, and was a novelty in war. It is curious that so clear-sighted a man as Frederick did not expand the method, so important a factor in speed. But at that day, to sustain an army by foraging in an enemy’s country would have been considered an infraction of the laws of nations. The distance from Leipsic, nearly one hundred and eighty miles, was covered in fifteen days. At Parchwitz he met the troops brought from Breslau by Ziethen, some eighteen thousand men. This increased Frederick’s force to thirty-two thousand under the colors.