WAR

WAR is a great evil; but it is inevitable, and often-times necessary. If he who first reduced to rules the art of destroying his fellow-creatures, had no end in view but to gratify the passions of princes, he was a monster, whom it would have been a duty to smother at his birth: but if his intention was the defence of persecuted virtue, or the punishment of successful wickedness, to curb ambition, or to oppose the unjust claims of superior power, mankind ought to erect altars to his memory. War, in the last case, is the most necessary and useful of all the sciences: the various kinds of knowledge which ought to furnish the mind of a soldier are not without great difficulty to be attained. Of most other sciences the principles are fixed, or at least they may be ascertained by the assistance of experience; there needs nothing but diligence to learn them, or a particular turn of mind to practise them. Philosophy, mathematics, architecture, and many others, are all founded upon invariable combinations. Every man, even of a narrow understanding, may remember rules, apply them properly, and sometimes draw just consequences from them: but the science of war branches out into so many particulars; it takes in so many different parts; there are so many reflections necessary to be made, so many circumstances and cases to be brought together; that it is only by a continual application, grounded upon the love of his duty, and an inclination to his profession, that any man can attain it. To march an army in every sort of country, whether open, woody, or mountainous; to know how to form a camp in all those countries, with which the general must be thoroughly acquainted in order to do it with security; to make a proper disposition for a battle, whether with a view to the posture of the enemy, or to the situation of the country; to foresee events which depend in a manner upon chance; to be capable of making a good retreat on proper occasions; to direct the forages without fatiguing or exposing the troops; to send out detachments with precaution; to conduct the convoys in safety; to know how to canton an army; to establish magazines in places, both safe and within reach of the army, so that it shall never be in want of subsistence—these are the great ends of the military science. It is commonly thought sufficient for a military man to know how to obey; and it is also supposed that the success of a day cannot be dubious, if a general joins the confidence of the soldiers to personal courage, a cool head, and a knowledge of the country. It is true that, in cases of perplexity, many generals have in a great measure owed to their own capacity, and the confidence their soldiers have reposed in them, the advantages they have gained over the enemy; and confidence will always be reposed by the soldiers in that general in whom they perceive coolness united with courage. At the battle of Cannæ, when Gisco seemed to be much astonished at the superiority of the enemy's number, Hannibal answered him coolly, "There is, Gisco, a thing still more surprising, of which you take no notice. Gisco asking him what it was, "It is (replied Hannibal) that in all that great crowd there is not one man whose name is Gisco." Plutarch observes, that this coolness of Hannibal greatly animated the Carthaginians, who could not imagine that their general would joke at so important a time, without being certain of overcoming his enemies. Although bravery and courage are the most essential qualifications of a subordinate officer, yet he should not be deficient in those which are required in a general, and which have been already mentioned; obedience to the orders delivered to him is no longer a virtue than whilst he comprehends and knows the intention of them. War, says a celebrated author, is a business which, like all others, must be learned; it supposes some qualities to be born with us, and demands others which are to be acquired: but since all these qualities must have the original source in genius, a man who proposes war for his profession, should never engage in it without having consulted his natural bent, or without knowing the particular turn and power of his mind. Ability, whether in a general or an officer, is the effect of his genius, quickened by a natural liking to his business. A quick eye, which is of great importance to a soldier, is natural to some, and in them it is the effect of genius; others acquire it by study or experience; he who knows how to command himself, and has courage enough to keep himself cool on the most urgent occasions, has the readiest and quickest eye. A quick, hot-headed man, however brave, sees nothing; or if he does, it is confusedly, and generally too late. It is this quick eye which enables a general to judge of an advantageous post, of a manoeuvre to be made, and of a good disposition for the troops, whether with respect to that of the enemy, or to the situation and nature of the country. The quick eye is no other than that penetrating genius which lets nothing escape it. A general who knows how to unite this quality with perpetual coolness, never is in want of expedients; he will see how those events, which to any other would be the preface of his own defeat, may end in the overthrow of his enemies. The choice of the general officers depends upon this genius, which discovers every thing; they ought to be the right-hand of the general, and as capable of commanding the army as himself. Whatever good dispositions a general may make, they must prove ineffectual if not seconded by the general officers under his command; he cannot be everywhere, neither can he foresee all exigencies that may arise. He is obliged to give only general orders; it is therefore the business of those who command under him to know how to take the advantage of a wrong movement of the enemy; to take upon them to attack, or sustain the troops which are engaged; and, as circumstances vary, to make them advance towards the enemy, either to keep him back or to attack him. But the qualities already mentioned would be useless, if order and discipline were not severely observed: the most numerous and best composed army would soon become little else than a body of rangers, who being only united by the hope of booty, would separate as soon as that motive ceased; and trusting each to his own head, or indulging his own humour, would be cut in pieces party by party: so that if the general does not keep up subordination (the soul and strength of discipline), his army will be nothing more than a troop of Tartars acting more from the hope of plunder than the desire of glory. What art and what genius is there not requisite to maintain this subordination? Too much severity disgusts the soldier, and renders him mutinous; too much indulgence sinks him into indolence, and makes him neglect his duty; licentiousness causes that subordination to seem burdensome, which should never in any degree be given up: he loses that respect, and often that confidence, which he should have with regard to his officer; and indulgence often makes a well-disciplined body become a set of sluggards, who march against their will, and who, on the most pressing emergencies, think only on their own safety. Besides these qualities, which are essential to a general, and which he who would attain that rank ought of course to have, there are still many others necessary to make a great man. A general who would merit the title of a hero, ought to unite in himself all civil, military, and political excellence. It is by this that he will easily attain to make war with success: nothing will escape him; he will know without difficulty the genius of every country, and of the nations which compose the enemy's army, the abilities of the generals who command, and the nature of the troops under them; he knows that he may venture a motion with some troops that he would not dare to attempt with others that are equally brave. One nation is vehement, fiery, and formidable in the first onset; another is not so hasty, but of more perseverance: with the former, a single instant determines success; with the latter, the action is not so rapid, but the event is less doubtful. No man is born a general, although he brings into the world with him the seeds of those virtues which makes a great man: Cæsar, Spinola, Turenne, the great Conde, and some others, showed, even in their earliest years, such qualities as ranked them above other men; they carried within them the principles of those great virtues which they drew forth to action by profound study, and which they brought to perfection by the help of practice: those who came after them, with perhaps fewer natural talents, have by study rendered themselves worthy of being compared to them. Cæsar and all conquerors had this advantage, that they were able to make their own opportunities, and always acted by their own choice. A man may be a good general without being a Marlborough or a Turenne: such geniuses are scarcely seen once in an age; but the more they are raised above the rest of mankind, the more they ought to excite emulation. It is by endeavouring to surpass the intellects of the second rate; it is by striving to equal the most sublime, that the imitation of them is to be attained. This passion in a soldier is neither pride nor presumption; it is virtue: and it is by this only that he can hope to be serviceable to the state, and add to the glory of his king and country. How much soever the honour of commanding armies may be sought after, it degrades him who is not worthy of it; this rank, so much desired, borders on the two extremes of glory and ignominy. A military man who labours to make himself capable of commanding, is not to be blamed; his ambition is noble: by studying the art of commanding, he learns that of obeying and of executing. But it is astonishing in the highest degree to see soldiers thinking only on preferment, and neglecting the study of their business. It is perhaps less surprising if we see others, without having been tried, proposing to themselves to command in chief; because such attempts suppose in the projector, an absurd temerity, founded on a profound ignorance of the talents he ought to have, and the virtues which he has not. Such boldness is the character of a man whose mind is too narrow to perceive his danger: We should rather approve the timidity that suffers itself to be dejected by terror, since it shows at least that he knows to what hazards he is exposed; both one and the other are blamable: modesty is the only proper quality of a soldier; it gives splendour to virtue, it argues diffidence of himself, and desire of arriving at perfection. The title of general would be less tempting, if proper attention was paid to the qualities it requires, and the duties it imposes; it would then appear a very honourable, but painful burden. The most firm and intrepid genius might be discouraged, merely by thinking that on the conduct of a general depends the fate of the state, the glory of his prince's arms, and his own reputation.