INTRODUCTION
The Germans interpret their new national
colours—black, red, and white—by the saying, “Durch Nacht und Blut zur licht.”
(“Through night and blood to light”), and no work yet written conveys to the
thinker a clearer conception of all that the red streak in their flag stands
for than this deep and philosophical analysis of “War” by Clausewitz.
It reveals “War,” stripped of all accessories, as
the exercise of force for the attainment of a political object, unrestrained by
any law save that of expediency, and thus gives the key to the interpretation
of German political aims, past, present, and future, which is unconditionally necessary
for every student of the modern conditions of Europe. Step by step, every event
since Waterloo follows with logical consistency from the teachings of Napoleon,
formulated for the first time, some twenty years afterwards, by this remarkable
thinker.
What Darwin accomplished for Biology generally
Clausewitz did for the Life-History of Nations nearly half a century before
him, for both have proved the existence of the same law in each case, viz.,
“The survival of the fittest”—the “fittest,” as Huxley long since pointed out,
not being necessarily synonymous with the ethically “best.” Neither of these
thinkers was concerned with the ethics of the struggle which each studied so
exhaustively, but to both men the phase or condition presented itself neither as
moral nor immoral, any more than are famine, disease, or other natural
phenomena, but as emanating from a force inherent in all living organisms which
can only be mastered by understanding its nature. It is in that spirit that,
one after the other, all the Nations of the Continent, taught by such drastic
lessons as Königgrätz and Sedan, have accepted the lesson, with the result that
to-day Europe is an armed camp, and peace is maintained by the equilibrium of
forces, and will continue just as long as this equilibrium exists, and no
longer.
Whether this state of equilibrium is in itself a
good or desirable thing may be open to argument. I have discussed it at length
in my “War and the World’s Life”; but I venture to suggest that to no one would
a renewal of the era of warfare be a change for the better, as far as existing
humanity is concerned. Meanwhile, however, with every year that elapses the
forces at present in equilibrium are changing in magnitude—the pressure of
populations which have to be fed is rising, and an explosion along the line of
least resistance is, sooner or later, inevitable.
As I read the teaching of the recent Hague
Conference, no responsible Government on the Continent is anxious to form in
themselves that line of least resistance; they know only too well what War
would mean; and we alone, absolutely unconscious of the trend of the dominant
thought of Europe, are pulling down the dam which may at any moment let in on
us the flood of invasion.
Now no responsible man in Europe, perhaps least of
all in Germany, thanks us for this voluntary destruction of our defences, for
all who are of any importance would very much rather end their days in peace
than incur the burden of responsibility which War would entail. But they
realise that the gradual dissemination of the principles taught by Clausewitz
has created a condition of molecular tension in the minds of the Nations they
govern analogous to the “critical temperature of water heated above boiling-point
under pressure,” which may at any moment bring about an explosion which they
will be powerless to control.
The case is identical with that of an ordinary
steam boiler, delivering so and so many pounds of steam to its engines as long
as the envelope can contain the pressure; but let a breach in its continuity
arise—relieving the boiling water of all restraint—and in a moment the whole
mass flashes into vapour, developing a power no work of man can oppose.
The ultimate consequences of defeat no man can
foretell. The only way to avert them is to ensure victory; and, again following
out the principles of Clausewitz, victory can only be ensured by the creation
in peace of an organisation which will bring every available man, horse, and
gun (or ship and gun, if the war be on the sea) in the shortest possible time,
and with the utmost possible momentum, upon the decisive field of action—which
in turn leads to the final doctrine formulated by Von der Goltz in excuse for
the action of the late President Kruger in 1899:
“The Statesman who, knowing his instrument to be
ready, and seeing War inevitable, hesitates to strike first is guilty of a
crime against his country.”
It is because this sequence of cause and effect is
absolutely unknown to our Members of Parliament, elected by popular
representation, that all our efforts to ensure a lasting peace by securing
efficiency with economy in our National Defences have been rendered nugatory.
This estimate of the influence of Clausewitz’s
sentiments on contemporary thought in Continental Europe may appear exaggerated
to those who have not familiarised themselves with M. Gustav de Bon’s
exposition of the laws governing the formation and conduct of crowds I do not
wish for one minute to be understood as asserting that Clausewitz has been
conscientiously studied and understood in any Army, not even in the Prussian,
but his work has been the ultimate foundation on which every drill regulation
in Europe, except our own, has been reared. It is this ceaseless repetition of
his fundamental ideas to which one-half of the male population of every
Continental Nation has been subjected for two to three years of their lives,
which has tuned their minds to vibrate in harmony with his precepts, and those
who know and appreciate this fact at its true value have only to strike the
necessary chords in order to evoke a response sufficient to overpower any other
ethical conception which those who have not organised their forces beforehand
can appeal to.
The recent set-back experienced by the Socialists
in Germany is an illustration of my position. The Socialist leaders of that
country are far behind the responsible Governors in their knowledge of the
management of crowds. The latter had long before (in 1893, in fact) made their
arrangements to prevent the spread of Socialistic propaganda beyond certain
useful limits. As long as the Socialists only threatened capital they were not
seriously interfered with, for the Government knew quite well that the
undisputed sway of the employer was not for the ultimate good of the State. The
standard of comfort must not be pitched too low if men are to be ready to die
for their country. But the moment the Socialists began to interfere seriously
with the discipline of the Army the word went round, and the Socialists lost
heavily at the polls.
If this power of predetermined reaction to
acquired ideas can be evoked successfully in a matter of internal interest
only, in which the “obvious interest” of the vast majority of the population is
so clearly on the side of the Socialist, it must be evident how enormously
greater it will prove when set in motion against an external enemy, where the
“obvious interest” of the people is, from the very nature of things, as
manifestly on the side of the Government; and the Statesman who failed to take
into account the force of the “resultant thought wave” of a crowd of some seven
million men, all trained to respond to their ruler’s call, would be guilty of
treachery as grave as one who failed to strike when he knew the Army to be
ready for immediate action.
As already pointed out, it is to the spread of
Clausewitz’s ideas that the present state of more or less immediate readiness
for war of all European Armies is due, and since the organisation of these
forces is uniform this “more or less” of readiness exists in precise proportion
to the sense of duty which animates the several Armies. Where the spirit of
duty and self-sacrifice is low the troops are unready and inefficient; where,
as in Prussia, these qualities, by the training of a whole century, have become
instinctive, troops really are ready to the last button, and might be poured
down upon any one of her neighbours with such rapidity that the very first
collision must suffice to ensure ultimate success—a success by no means certain
if the enemy, whoever he may be, is allowed breathing-time in which to set his
house in order.
An example will make this clearer. In 1887 Germany
was on the very verge of War with France and Russia. At that moment her
superior efficiency, the consequence of this inborn sense of duty—surely one of
the highest qualities of humanity—was so great that it is more than probable
that less than six weeks would have sufficed to bring the French to their
knees. Indeed, after the first fortnight it would have been possible to begin
transferring troops from the Rhine to the Niemen; and the same case may arise
again. But if France and Russia had been allowed even ten days’ warning the
German plan would have been completely defeated. France alone might then have
claimed all the efforts that Germany could have put forth to defeat her.
Yet there are politicians in England so grossly
ignorant of the German reading of the Napoleonic lessons that they expect that
Nation to sacrifice the enormous advantage they have prepared by a whole
century of self-sacrifice and practical patriotism by an appeal to a Court of
Arbitration, and the further delays which must arise by going through the
medieval formalities of recalling Ambassadors and exchanging ultimatums.
Most of our present-day politicians have made
their money in business—a “form of human competition greatly resembling War,”
to paraphrase Clausewitz. Did they, when in the throes of such competition,
send formal notice to their rivals of their plans to get the better of them in
commerce? Did Mr. Carnegie, the arch-priest of Peace at any price, when he
built up the Steel Trust, notify his competitors when and how he proposed to
strike the blows which successively made him master of millions? Surely the
Directors of a Great Nation may consider the interests of their
shareholders—i.e., the people they govern—as sufficiently serious not to be
endangered by the deliberate sacrifice of the preponderant position of
readiness which generations of self-devotion, patriotism and wise forethought
have won for them?
As regards the strictly military side of this
work, though the recent researches of the French General Staff into the records
and documents of the Napoleonic period have shown conclusively that Clausewitz
had never grasped the essential point of the Great Emperor’s strategic method,
yet it is admitted that he has completely fathomed the spirit which gave life
to the form; and notwithstanding the variations in application which have
resulted from the progress of invention in every field of national activity
(not in the technical improvements in armament alone), this spirit still
remains the essential factor in the whole matter. Indeed, if anything, modern
appliances have intensified its importance, for though, with equal armaments on
both sides, the form of battles must always remain the same, the facility and
certainty of combination which better methods of communicating orders and
intelligence have conferred upon the Commanders has rendered the control of
great masses immeasurably more certain than it was in the past.
Men kill each other at greater distances, it is
true—but killing is a constant factor in all battles. The difference between
“now and then” lies in this, that, thanks to the enormous increase in range
(the essential feature in modern armaments), it is possible to concentrate by
surprise, on any chosen spot, a man-killing power fully twentyfold greater than
was conceivable in the days of Waterloo; and whereas in Napoleon’s time this
concentration of man-killing power (which in his hands took the form of the
great case-shot attack) depended almost entirely on the shape and condition of
the ground, which might or might not be favourable, nowadays such concentration
of fire-power is almost independent of the country altogether.
Thus, at Waterloo, Napoleon was compelled to wait
till the ground became firm enough for his guns to gallop over; nowadays every
gun at his disposal, and five times that number had he possessed them, might
have opened on any point in the British position he had selected, as soon as it
became light enough to see.
Or, to take a more modern instance, viz., the
battle of St. Privat-Gravelotte, August 18, 1870, where the Germans were able
to concentrate on both wings batteries of two hundred guns and upwards, it
would have been practically impossible, owing to the section of the slopes of
the French position, to carry out the old-fashioned case-shot attack at all.
Nowadays there would be no difficulty in turning on the fire of two thousand
guns on any point of the position, and switching this fire up and down the line
like water from a fire-engine hose, if the occasion demanded such
concentration.
But these alterations in method make no difference
in the truth of the picture of War which Clausewitz presents, with which every
soldier, and above all every Leader, should be saturated.
Death, wounds, suffering, and privation remain the
same, whatever the weapons employed, and their reaction on the ultimate nature
of man is the same now as in the struggle a century ago. It is this reaction
that the Great Commander has to understand and prepare himself to control; and
the task becomes ever greater as, fortunately for humanity, the opportunities
for gathering experience become more rare.
In the end, and with every improvement in science,
the result depends more and more on the character of the Leader and his power
of resisting “the sensuous impressions of the battlefield.” Finally, for those
who would fit themselves in advance for such responsibility, I know of no more
inspiring advice than that given by Krishna to Arjuna ages ago, when the latter
trembled before the awful responsibility of launching his Army against the
hosts of the Pandav’s:
This Life within all living things, my Prince,
Hides beyond harm. Scorn thou to suffer, then,
For that which cannot suffer. Do thy part!
Be mindful of thy name, and tremble not.
Nought better can betide a martial soul
Than lawful war. Happy the warrior
To whom comes joy of battle....
. . . But if thou shunn'st
This honourable field—a Kshittriya—
If, knowing thy duty and thy task, thou bidd'st
Duty and task go by—that shall be sin!
And those to come shall speak thee infamy
From age to age. But infamy is worse
For men of noble blood to bear than death!
. . . . . .
Therefore arise, thou Son of Kunti! Brace
Thine arm for conflict; nerve thy heart to meet,
As things alike to thee, pleasure or pain,
Profit or ruin, victory or defeat.
So minded, gird thee to the fight, for so
Thou shalt not sin!
Col.
F. N. Maude, C.B., Late R.E.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
It will naturally excite surprise that a preface
by a female hand should accompany a work on such a subject as the present. For
my friends no explanation of the circumstance is required; but I hope by a
simple relation of the cause to clear myself of the appearance of presumption
in the eyes also of those to whom I am not known.
The work to which these lines serve as a preface
occupied almost entirely the last twelve years of the life of my inexpressibly
beloved husband, who has unfortunately been torn too soon from myself and his
country. To complete it was his most earnest desire; but it was not his
intention that it should be published during his life; and if I tried to
persuade him to alter that intention, he often answered, half in jest, but
also, perhaps, half in a foreboding of early death: “Thou shalt publish it.”
These words (which in those happy days often drew tears from me, little as I
was inclined to attach a serious meaning to them) make it now, in the opinion
of my friends, a duty incumbent on me to introduce the posthumous works of my
beloved husband, with a few prefatory lines from myself; and although here may
be a difference of opinion on this point, still I am sure there will be no
mistake as to the feeling which has prompted me to overcome the timidity which
makes any such appearance, even in a subordinate part, so difficult for a
woman.
It will be understood, as a matter of course, that
I cannot have the most remote intention of considering myself as the real
editress of a work which is far above the scope of my capacity: I only stand at
its side as an affectionate companion on its entrance into the world. This
position I may well claim, as a similar one was allowed me during its formation
and progress. Those who are acquainted with our happy married life, and know
how we shared everything with each other—not only joy and sorrow, but also
every occupation, every interest of daily life—will understand that my beloved
husband could not be occupied on a work of this kind without its being known to
me. Therefore, no one can like me bear testimony to the zeal, to the love with
which he laboured on it, to the hopes which he bound up with it, as well as the
manner and time of its elaboration. His richly gifted mind had from his early
youth longed for light and truth, and, varied as were his talents, still he had
chiefly directed his reflections to the science of war, to which the duties of
his profession called him, and which are of such importance for the benefit of
States. Scharnhorst was the first to lead him into the right road, and his
subsequent appointment in 1810 as Instructor at the General War School, as well
as the honour conferred on him at the same time of giving military instruction
to H.R.H. the Crown Prince, tended further to give his investigations and
studies that direction, and to lead him to put down in writing whatever
conclusions he arrived at. A paper with which he finished the instruction of
H.R.H. the Crown Prince contains the germ of his subsequent works. But it was
in the year 1816, at Coblentz, that he first devoted himself again to
scientific labours, and to collecting the fruits which his rich experience in
those four eventful years had brought to maturity. He wrote down his views, in
the first place, in short essays, only loosely connected with each other. The
following, without date, which has been found amongst his papers, seems to
belong to those early days.
“In the principles here committed to paper, in my
opinion, the chief things which compose Strategy, as it is called, are touched
upon. I looked upon them only as materials, and had just got to such a length
towards the moulding them into a whole.
“These materials have been amassed without any
regularly preconceived plan. My view was at first, without regard to system and
strict connection, to put down the results of my reflections upon the most
important points in quite brief, precise, compact propositions. The manner in
which Montesquieu has treated his subject floated before me in idea. I thought
that concise, sententious chapters, which I proposed at first to call grains,
would attract the attention of the intelligent just as much by that which was
to be developed from them, as by that which they contained in themselves. I
had, therefore, before me in idea, intelligent readers already acquainted with
the subject. But my nature, which always impels me to development and
systematising, at last worked its way out also in this instance. For some time
I was able to confine myself to extracting only the most important results from
the essays, which, to attain clearness and conviction in my own mind, I wrote
upon different subjects, to concentrating in that manner their spirit in a
small compass; but afterwards my peculiarity gained ascendency completely—I
have developed what I could, and thus naturally have supposed a reader not yet
acquainted with the subject.
“The more I advanced with the work, and the more I
yielded to the spirit of investigation, so much the more I was also led to
system; and thus, then, chapter after chapter has been inserted.
“My ultimate view has now been to go through the
whole once more, to establish by further explanation much of the earlier
treatises, and perhaps to condense into results many analyses on the later
ones, and thus to make a moderate whole out of it, forming a small octavo
volume. But it was my wish also in this to avoid everything common, everything
that is plain of itself, that has been said a hundred times, and is generally
accepted; for my ambition was to write a book that would not be forgotten in
two or three years, and which any one interested in the subject would at all
events take up more than once.”
In Coblentz, where he was much occupied with duty,
he could only give occasional hours to his private studies. It was not until
1818, after his appointment as Director of the General Academy of War at
Berlin, that he had the leisure to expand his work, and enrich it from the
history of modern wars. This leisure also reconciled him to his new avocation,
which, in other respects, was not satisfactory to him, as, according to the
existing organisation of the Academy, the scientific part of the course is not
under the Director, but conducted by a Board of Studies. Free as he was from
all petty vanity, from every feeling of restless, egotistical ambition, still
he felt a desire to be really useful, and not to leave inactive the abilities
with which God had endowed him. In active life he was not in a position in
which this longing could be satisfied, and he had little hope of attaining to
any such position: his whole energies were therefore directed upon the domain
of science, and the benefit which he hoped to lay the foundation of by his work
was the object of his life. That, notwithstanding this, the resolution not to
let the work appear until after his death became more confirmed is the best
proof that no vain, paltry longing for praise and distinction, no particle of
egotistical views, was mixed up with this noble aspiration for great and
lasting usefulness.
Thus he worked diligently on, until, in the spring
of 1830, he was appointed to the artillery, and his energies were called into
activity in such a different sphere, and to such a high degree, that he was
obliged, for the moment at least, to give up all literary work. He then put his
papers in order, sealed up the separate packets, labelled them, and took
sorrowful leave of this employment which he loved so much. He was sent to
Breslau in August of the same year, as Chief of the Second Artillery District,
but in December recalled to Berlin, and appointed Chief of the Staff to
Field-Marshal Count Gneisenau (for the term of his command). In March 1831, he
accompanied his revered Commander to Posen. When he returned from there to
Breslau in November after the melancholy event which had taken place, he hoped
to resume his work and perhaps complete it in the course of the winter. The
Almighty has willed it should be otherwise. On the 7th November he returned to
Breslau; on the 16th he was no more; and the packets sealed by himself were not
opened until after his death.
The papers thus left are those now made public in
the following volumes, exactly in the condition in which they were found,
without a word being added or erased. Still, however, there was much to do
before publication, in the way of putting them in order and consulting about
them; and I am deeply indebted to several sincere friends for the assistance
they have afforded me, particularly Major O’Etzel, who kindly undertook the
correction of the Press, as well as the preparation of the maps to accompany
the historical parts of the work. I must also mention my much-loved brother,
who was my support in the hour of my misfortune, and who has also done much for
me in respect of these papers; amongst other things, by carefully examining and
putting them in order, he found the commencement of the revision which my dear
husband wrote in the year 1827, and mentions in the Notice hereafter annexed as
a work he had in view. This revision has been inserted in the place intended
for it in the first book (for it does not go any further).
There are still many other friends to whom I might
offer my thanks for their advice, for the sympathy and friendship which they
have shown me; but if I do not name them all, they will, I am sure, not have any
doubts of my sincere gratitude. It is all the greater, from my firm conviction
that all they have done was not only on my own account, but for the friend whom
God has thus called away from them so soon.
If I have been highly blessed as the wife of such
a man during one and twenty years, so am I still, notwithstanding my
irreparable loss, by the treasure of my recollections and of my hopes, by the
rich legacy of sympathy and friendship which I owe the beloved departed, by the
elevating feeling which I experience at seeing his rare worth so generally and
honourably acknowledged.
The trust confided to me by a Royal Couple is a
fresh benefit for which I have to thank the Almighty, as it opens to me an
honourable occupation, to which I devote myself. May this occupation be
blessed, and may the dear little Prince who is now entrusted to my care, some
day read this book, and be animated by it to deeds like those of his glorious
ancestors.
Written
at the Marble Palace, Potsdam, 30th June, 1832.
MARIE VON CLAUSEWITZ,
Born Countess Brühl,
Oberhofmeisterinn to H.R.H. the Princess
William.
NOTICE
I look upon the first six books, of which a fair
copy has now been made, as only a mass which is still in a manner without form,
and which has yet to be again revised. In this revision the two kinds of War
will be everywhere kept more distinctly in view, by which all ideas will
acquire a clearer meaning, a more precise direction, and a closer application.
The two kinds of War are, first, those in which the object is the overthrow of
the enemy, whether it be that we aim at his destruction, politically, or merely
at disarming him and forcing him to conclude peace on our terms; and next,
those in which our object is merely to make some conquests on the frontiers of
his country, either for the purpose of retaining them permanently, or of
turning them to account as matter of exchange in the settlement of a peace.
Transition from one kind to the other must certainly continue to exist, but the
completely different nature of the tendencies of the two must everywhere
appear, and must separate from each other things which are incompatible.
Besides establishing this real difference in Wars,
another practically necessary point of view must at the same time be
established, which is, that War is only a continuation of State policy by other
means. This point of view being adhered to everywhere, will introduce much more
unity into the consideration of the subject, and things will be more easily
disentangled from each other. Although the chief application of this point of
view does not commence until we get to the eighth book, still it must be
completely developed in the first book, and also lend assistance throughout the
revision of the first six books. Through such a revision the first six books
will get rid of a good deal of dross, many rents and chasms will be closed up,
and much that is of a general nature will be transformed into distinct
conceptions and forms.
The seventh book—on attack—for the different
chapters of which sketches are already made, is to be considered as a
reflection of the sixth, and must be completed at once, according to the
above-mentioned more distinct points of view, so that it will require no fresh
revision, but rather may serve as a model in the revision of the first six
books.
For the eighth book—on the Plan of a War, that is,
of the organisation of a whole War in general—several chapters are designed,
but they are not at all to be regarded as real materials, they are merely a
track, roughly cleared, as it were, through the mass, in order by that means to
ascertain the points of most importance. They have answered this object, and I
propose, on finishing the seventh book, to proceed at once to the working out
of the eighth, where the two points of view above mentioned will be chiefly
affirmed, by which everything will be simplified, and at the same time have a
spirit breathed into it. I hope in this book to iron out many creases in the
heads of strategists and statesmen, and at least to show the object of action,
and the real point to be considered in War.
Now, when I have brought my ideas clearly out by
finishing this eighth book, and have properly established the leading features
of War, it will be easier for me to carry the spirit of these ideas in to the
first six books, and to make these same features show themselves everywhere.
Therefore I shall defer till then the revision of the first six books.
Should the work be interrupted by my death, then
what is found can only be called a mass of conceptions not brought into form;
but as these are open to endless misconceptions, they will doubtless give rise
to a number of crude criticisms: for in these things, every one thinks, when he
takes up his pen, that whatever comes into his head is worth saying and
printing, and quite as incontrovertible as that twice two make four. If such a
one would take the pains, as I have done, to think over the subject, for years,
and to compare his ideas with military history, he would certainly be a little
more guarded in his criticism.
Still, notwithstanding this imperfect form, I
believe that an impartial reader thirsting for truth and conviction will
rightly appreciate in the first six books the fruits of several years’
reflection and a diligent study of War, and that, perhaps, he will find in them
some leading ideas which may bring about a revolution in the theory of War.
Berlin,
10th July, 1827.
Besides this notice, amongst the papers left the
following unfinished memorandum was found, which appears of very recent date:
The manuscript on the conduct of the Grande
Guerre, which will be found after my death, in its present state can only be
regarded as a collection of materials from which it is intended to construct a
theory of War. With the greater part I am not yet satisfied; and the sixth book
is to be looked at as a mere essay: I should have completely remodelled it, and
have tried a different line.
But the ruling principles which pervade these
materials I hold to be the right ones: they are the result of a very varied
reflection, keeping always in view the reality, and always bearing in mind what
I have learnt by experience and by my intercourse with distinguished soldiers.
The seventh book is to contain the attack, the
subjects of which are thrown together in a hasty manner: the eighth, the plan
for a War, in which I would have examined War more especially in its political
and human aspects.
The first chapter of the first book is the only
one which I consider as completed; it will at least serve to show the manner in
which I proposed to treat the subject throughout.
The theory of the Grande Guerre, or Strategy, as
it is called, is beset with extraordinary difficulties, and we may affirm that
very few men have clear conceptions of the separate subjects, that is,
conceptions carried up to their full logical conclusions. In real action most
men are guided merely by the tact of judgment which hits the object more or
less accurately, according as they possess more or less genius.
This is the way in which all great Generals have
acted, and therein partly lay their greatness and their genius, that they
always hit upon what was right by this tact. Thus also it will always be in
action, and so far this tact is amply sufficient. But when it is a question,
not of acting oneself, but of convincing others in a consultation, then all
depends on clear conceptions and demonstration of the inherent relations, and so
little progress has been made in this respect that most deliberations are
merely a contention of words, resting on no firm basis, and ending either in
every one retaining his own opinion, or in a compromise from mutual
considerations of respect, a middle course really without any value.(*)
Clear ideas on these matters are therefore not
wholly useless; besides, the human mind has a general tendency to clearness,
and always wants to be consistent with the necessary order of things.
Owing to the great difficulties attending a
philosophical construction of the Art of War, and the many attempts at it that
have failed, most people have come to the conclusion that such a theory is
impossible, because it concerns things which no standing law can embrace. We
should also join in this opinion and give up any attempt at a theory, were it
not that a great number of propositions make themselves evident without any
difficulty, as, for instance, that the defensive form, with a negative object,
is the stronger form, the attack, with the positive object, the weaker—that
great results carry the little ones with them—that, therefore, strategic
effects may be referred to certain centres of gravity—that a demonstration is a
weaker application of force than a real attack, that, therefore, there must be
some special reason for resorting to the former—that victory consists not
merely in the conquest on the field of battle, but in the destruction of armed
forces, physically and morally, which can in general only be effected by a
pursuit after the battle is gained—that successes are always greatest at the
point where the victory has been gained, that, therefore, the change from one
line and object to another can only be regarded as a necessary evil—that a
turning movement is only justified by a superiority of numbers generally or by
the advantage of our lines of communication and retreat over those of the
enemy—that flank positions are only justifiable on similar grounds—that every
attack becomes weaker as it progresses.
(*) Herr Clausewitz evidently
had before his mind the endless consultations at the Headquarters of the
Bohemian Army in the Leipsic Campaign 1813.
THE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR
That the conception of the scientific does not
consist alone, or chiefly, in system, and its finished theoretical
constructions, requires nowadays no exposition. System in this treatise is not
to be found on the surface, and instead of a finished building of theory, there
are only materials.
The scientific form lies here in the endeavour to
explore the nature of military phenomena to show their affinity with the nature
of the things of which they are composed. Nowhere has the philosophical
argument been evaded, but where it runs out into too thin a thread the Author
has preferred to cut it short, and fall back upon the corresponding results of
experience; for in the same way as many plants only bear fruit when they do not
shoot too high, so in the practical arts the theoretical leaves and flowers
must not be made to sprout too far, but kept near to experience, which is their
proper soil.
Unquestionably it would be a mistake to try to
discover from the chemical ingredients of a grain of corn the form of the ear
of corn which it bears, as we have only to go to the field to see the ears
ripe. Investigation and observation, philosophy and experience, must neither
despise nor exclude one another; they mutually afford each other the rights of
citizenship. Consequently, the propositions of this book, with their arch of
inherent necessity, are supported either by experience or by the conception of
War itself as external points, so that they are not without abutments.(*)
It is, perhaps, not impossible to write a
systematic theory of War full of spirit and substance, but ours hitherto, have
been very much the reverse. To say nothing of their unscientific spirit, in
their striving after coherence and completeness of system, they overflow with
commonplaces, truisms, and twaddle of every kind. If we want a striking picture
of them we have only to read Lichtenberg’s extract from a code of regulations
in case of fire.
If a house takes fire, we must seek, above all
things, to protect the right side of the house standing on the left, and, on
the other hand, the left side of the house on the right; for if we, for
example, should protect the left side of the house on the left, then the right
side of the house lies to the right of the left, and consequently as the fire lies
to the right of this side, and of the right side (for we have assumed that the
house is situated to the left of the fire), therefore the right side is
situated nearer to the fire than the left, and the right side of the house
might catch fire if it was not protected before it came to the left, which is
protected. Consequently, something might be burnt that is not protected, and
that sooner than something else would be burnt, even if it was not protected;
consequently we must let alone the latter and protect the former. In order to
impress the thing on one’s mind, we have only to note if the house is situated
to the right of the fire, then it is the left side, and if the house is to the
left it is the right side.
In order not to frighten the intelligent reader by
such commonplaces, and to make the little good that there is distasteful by
pouring water upon it, the Author has preferred to give in small ingots of fine
metal his impressions and convictions, the result of many years’ reflection on
War, of his intercourse with men of ability, and of much personal experience.
Thus the seemingly weakly bound-together chapters of this book have arisen, but
it is hoped they will not be found wanting in logical connection. Perhaps soon
a greater head may appear, and instead of these single grains, give the whole
in a casting of pure metal without dross.
(*) That this is not the case in
the works of many military writers especially of those who have aimed at
treating of War itself in a scientific manner, is shown in many instances, in
which by their reasoning, the pro and contra swallow each other up so
effectually that there is no vestige of the tails even which were left in the
case of the two lions.
BRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL
CLAUSEWITZ
The Author of the work here translated, General
Carl Von Clausewitz, was born at Burg, near Magdeburg, in 1780, and entered the
Prussian Army as Fahnenjunker (i.e., ensign) in 1792. He served in the
campaigns of 1793-94 on the Rhine, after which he seems to have devoted some
time to the study of the scientific branches of his profession. In 1801 he
entered the Military School at Berlin, and remained there till 1803. During his
residence there he attracted the notice of General Scharnhorst, then at the
head of the establishment; and the patronage of this distinguished officer had
immense influence on his future career, and we may gather from his writings
that he ever afterwards continued to entertain a high esteem for Scharnhorst.
In the campaign of 1806 he served as Aide-de-camp to Prince Augustus of
Prussia; and being wounded and taken prisoner, he was sent into France until
the close of that war. On his return, he was placed on General Scharnhorst’s
Staff, and employed in the work then going on for the reorganisation of the
Army. He was also at this time selected as military instructor to the late King
of Prussia, then Crown Prince. In 1812 Clausewitz, with several other Prussian
officers, having entered the Russian service, his first appointment was as
Aide-de-camp to General Phul. Afterwards, while serving with Wittgenstein’s army,
he assisted in negotiating the famous convention of Tauroggen with York. Of the
part he took in that affair he has left an interesting account in his work on
the “Russian Campaign.” It is there stated that, in order to bring the
correspondence which had been carried on with York to a termination in one way
or another, the Author was despatched to York’s headquarters with two letters,
one was from General d’Auvray, the Chief of the Staff of Wittgenstein’s army,
to General Diebitsch, showing the arrangements made to cut off York’s corps
from Macdonald (this was necessary in order to give York a plausible excuse for
seceding from the French); the other was an intercepted letter from Macdonald
to the Duke of Bassano. With regard to the former of these, the Author says,
“it would not have had weight with a man like York, but for a military
justification, if the Prussian Court should require one as against the French,
it was important.”
The second letter was calculated at the least to
call up in General York’s mind all the feelings of bitterness which perhaps for
some days past had been diminished by the consciousness of his own behaviour
towards the writer.
As the Author entered General York’s chamber, the
latter called out to him, “Keep off from me; I will have nothing more to do
with you; your d——d Cossacks have let a letter of Macdonald’s pass through
them, which brings me an order to march on Piktrepohnen, in order there to
effect our junction. All doubt is now at an end; your troops do not come up;
you are too weak; march I must, and I must excuse myself from further
negotiation, which may cost me my head.” The Author said that he would make no
opposition to all this, but begged for a candle, as he had letters to show the
General, and, as the latter seemed still to hesitate, the Author added, “Your
Excellency will not surely place me in the embarrassment of departing without
having executed my commission.” The General ordered candles, and called in
Colonel von Roeder, the chief of his staff, from the ante-chamber. The letters
were read. After a pause of an instant, the General said, “Clausewitz, you are
a Prussian, do you believe that the letter of General d’Auvray is sincere, and
that Wittgenstein’s troops will really be at the points he mentioned on the 31st?”
The Author replied, “I pledge myself for the sincerity of this letter upon the
knowledge I have of General d’Auvray and the other men of Wittgenstein’s
headquarters; whether the dispositions he announces can be accomplished as he
lays down I certainly cannot pledge myself; for your Excellency knows that in
war we must often fall short of the line we have drawn for ourselves.” The
General was silent for a few minutes of earnest reflection; then he held out
his hand to the Author, and said, “You have me. Tell General Diebitsch that we
must confer early to-morrow at the mill of Poschenen, and that I am now firmly
determined to separate myself from the French and their cause.” The hour was
fixed for 8 A.M. After this was settled, the General added, “But I will not do
the thing by halves, I will get you Massenbach also.” He called in an officer
who was of Massenbach’s cavalry, and who had just left them. Much like
Schiller’s Wallenstein, he asked, walking up and down the room the while, “What
say your regiments?” The officer broke out with enthusiasm at the idea of a
riddance from the French alliance, and said that every man of the troops in
question felt the same.
“You young ones may talk; but my older head is
shaking on my shoulders,” replied the General.(*)
After the close of the Russian campaign Clausewitz
remained in the service of that country, but was attached as a Russian staff
officer to Blücher’s headquarters till the Armistice in 1813.
In 1814, he became Chief of the Staff of General
Walmoden’s Russo-German Corps, which formed part of the Army of the North under
Bernadotte. His name is frequently mentioned with distinction in that campaign,
particularly in connection with the affair of Goehrde.
Clausewitz re-entered the Prussian service in
1815, and served as Chief of the Staff to Thielman’s corps, which was engaged
with Grouchy at Wavre, on the 18th of June.
After the Peace, he was employed in a command on
the Rhine. In 1818, he became Major-General, and Director of the Military
School at which he had been previously educated.
In 1830, he was appointed Inspector of Artillery
at Breslau, but soon after nominated Chief of the Staff to the Army of
Observation, under Marshal Gneisenau on the Polish frontier.
The latest notices of his life and services are
probably to be found in the memoirs of General Brandt, who, from being on the
staff of Gneisenau’s army, was brought into daily intercourse with Clausewitz
in matters of duty, and also frequently met him at the table of Marshal
Gneisenau, at Posen.
Amongst other anecdotes, General Brandt relates
that, upon one occasion, the conversation at the Marshal’s table turned upon a
sermon preached by a priest, in which some great absurdities were introduced,
and a discussion arose as to whether the Bishop should not be made responsible
for what the priest had said. This led to the topic of theology in general,
when General Brandt, speaking of himself, says, “I expressed an opinion that
theology is only to be regarded as an historical process, as a moment in the
gradual development of the human race. This brought upon me an attack from all
quarters, but more especially from Clausewitz, who ought to have been on my
side, he having been an adherent and pupil of Kiesewetter’s, who had
indoctrinated him in the philosophy of Kant, certainly diluted—I might even say
in homœopathic doses.” This anecdote is only interesting as the mention of
Kiesewetter points to a circumstance in the life of Clausewitz that may have
had an influence in forming those habits of thought which distinguish his
writings.
“The way,” says General Brandt, “in which General
Clausewitz judged of things, drew conclusions from movements and marches,
calculated the times of the marches, and the points where decisions would take
place, was extremely interesting. Fate has unfortunately denied him an
opportunity of showing his talents in high command, but I have a firm
persuasion that as a strategist he would have greatly distinguished himself. As
a leader on the field of battle, on the other hand, he would not have been so
much in his right place, from a manque d’habitude du commandement, he wanted
the art d’enlever les troupes.”
After the Prussian Army of Observation was
dissolved, Clausewitz returned to Breslau, and a few days after his arrival was
seized with cholera, the seeds of which he must have brought with him from the
army on the Polish frontier. His death took place in November 1831.
His writings are contained in nine volumes,
published after his death, but his fame rests most upon the three volumes
forming his treatise on “War.” In the present attempt to render into English
this portion of the works of Clausewitz, the translator is sensible of many
deficiencies, but he hopes at all events to succeed in making this celebrated
treatise better known in England, believing, as he does, that so far as the
work concerns the interests of this country, it has lost none of the importance
it possessed at the time of its first publication.
(*) “Campaign in Russia in
1812”; translated from the German of General Von Clausewitz (by Lord
Ellesmere).
J.
J. Graham (Col.)
