some of his entrenching in Africa is hard to comprehend. Cæsar was a
fighter in his way, but he often appeared disinclined to fight, even
when his men were in the very mood to command success. He was so clever
at manœuvring that he seemed to desire, for the mere art of the thing,
to manœuvre his enemy into a corner before attack. His pausing at the
opening of the battle of Thapsus has led to the remark, that while he
prepared for the battle, it was his men who won it.
We cannot follow the Spanish campaign, which ended Cæsar’s military
exploits, and which came to an end in the remarkable battle of Munda
(March, 45), of which Cæsar remarked that he had often fought for
victory, but here fought for life. We must treat of the man rather than
events.
Cæsar had the inborn growth of the great captain. In the Civil War
he made fewer errors than in the Gallic. His operations, all things
considered, were well-nigh faultless. He first chose Rome, the most
important thing, as his objective; and in sixty days, by mere moral
ascendant, had got possession of the city. The enemy was on three sides
of him, Spain, Africa, Greece,--he occupying the central position, and
this he was very quick to see. He turned first on Spain, meanwhile
holding Italy against Pompey by a curtain of troops. Spain settled,
he moved over to Epirus with a temerity from which arch luck alone
could save him, and, victorious here, he turned on Africa. There is
no better example in history of the proper use of central lines on
a gigantic scale, though the first recognition of these is often
ascribed to Napoleon. In these splendid operations Cæsar made repeated
errors of precipitancy,--at Dyrrachium, at Alexandria, in Pontus, in
Africa. That, despite these errors, he was still victorious in so
comparatively short a time he owes to his extraordinary ability, his
simply stupendous good fortune, and the weakness of his opponents. In
success he was brilliant, in disaster strong and elastic, and he never
weakened in _morale_. It is adversity which proves the man.
Cæsar’s strategy was broad and far-seeing. His tactics were simple.
There are no striking examples in his battles of tactical formations
like Epaminondas’ oblique order at Leuctra, Alexander’s wedge at
Arbela, Hannibal’s withdrawing salient at Cannæ. Though the military
writers of this age exhibit great technical familiarity with tactical
formations, Cæsar was uniformly simple in his.
From the beginning Cæsar grew in every department of the art of war.
In strategy, tactics, fortification, sieges, logistics, he showed
larger ability at the end of his career than at any previous time. To
his personality his soldiers owed all they knew and all they were.
Remarkable for discipline, _esprit de corps_, adaptiveness, toughness,
patience in difficulty, self-denial, endurance and boldness in battle,
attachment to and confidence in their general, his legionaries were an
equal honor to Cæsar and to Rome, as they were a standing reproach to
Roman rottenness in their splendid soldierly qualities. Pompey’s men
could not compare with them in any sense, and this was because Pompey
had made his soldiers and Cæsar had made his.
It is difficult to compare Cæsar with Alexander or Hannibal. To make
such comparison leads towards the trivial. A few of their marked
resemblances or differences can alone be pointed out and their
elemental causes suggested; every one must draw his own conclusions;
and the fact that the equipment of all great captains is the same will
excuse apparent iteration of military virtues.
In Cæsar we can hardly divorce the ambitious statesman from the
soldier. We are apt to lose sight of the soldier proper. The two
characters are closely interwoven. In the motive of his labors Cæsar is
unlike Alexander or Hannibal. He strove, in Gaul, solely for military
power; after Pharsalus he worked with the ample power so gained.
Hannibal was never anything but a subordinate of the Carthaginian
Senate. He had no political ambition whatever; military success was
his sole aim,--and this on patriotic grounds. Alexander was a monarch
_ab initio_. His inspiration was the love of conquest,--the greed of
territory, if you like,--but as a king.
As a soldier, pure and simple, however, Cæsar is on an equal
level, though his campaigns were markedly colored by his political
aspirations. Hannibal employed state-craft to further his warlike
aims; Cæsar waged war to further his political aims. Alexander had
no political aims. His ambition was to conquer; to make Macedon the
mistress of the world, as he was master of Macedon, and then to weld
his dominions into one body. Rome was already mistress of the world,
and Cæsar aimed to make himself master of Rome. Each had his own motive
as a keynote.
In personal character, Hannibal stands higher than either. His
ambition was purely for Carthage. The man was always merged in the
patriot. He himself could acquire no greatness, rank, or power. His
service of his country after Zama abundantly demonstrates Hannibal’s
lofty, self-abnegating public spirit. What we know of Hannibal is
derived, mostly, from Roman writers, and these are, of necessity,
prejudiced. How could they be otherwise towards a man who for more
than half a generation had humiliated their country as she had never
been humiliated before? But in reading between the lines you readily
discover what manner of soldier and man Hannibal truly was.
In personal attributes there is a divinity which hedges Alexander
beyond all others. Despite his passionate outbursts and their often
lamentable consequences, a glamour surrounds him unlike any hero of
antiquity. But in mind and will, in true martial bearing, all are
alike. The conduct of each is equally a pattern to every soldier.
Alexander and Hannibal, from youth up, led a life of simplicity and
exercise, and their physique, naturally good, became adapted to their
soldier’s work. Cæsar led the youth of a man of the world, and was
far from strong at birth. He did, however, curb his pleasure to his
ambition until he grew easily to bear the fatigue incident to the
command of armies. Throughout life he accomplished a fabulous amount of
work, mental and physical. His nervous force was unparalleled.
Intelligence and character were alike pronounced in all. But Alexander,
perhaps because young, exceeded Cæsar and Hannibal in fire and in
unreasoning enthusiasm. Hannibal possessed far more quiet wisdom, power
of weighing facts, and valor tempered with discretion. In Cæsar we
find an unimpassioned pursuit of his one object with cold, calculating
brain-tissue, and all the vigor of body and soul put at the service of
his purpose to control the power of the Roman State.
In each, the will and intellect were balanced, as they must be
in a great captain. But in Alexander, the will often outran the
intelligence; in Hannibal the intelligence occasionally overruled the
ambition to act; in Cæsar it was now one, now the other bias which
took the upper hand. Alexander was always daring, never cautious.
Hannibal was always cautious, often daring. Cæsar was over-daring and
over-cautious by turns. This is perhaps to an extent due to the ages of
each, already given,--twenty-five, thirty-four, fifty-two.
Each possessed breadth, depth, strength, energy, persistent activity
throughout his entire career, a conception covering all fields, a brain
able to cope with any problem. But in Alexander we find these qualities
coupled with the effervescence of imaginative youth; in Hannibal, with
singular sharpness and the judgment of maturity; in Cæsar, with the
cool circumspection of years, not unmixed with a buoyant contempt of
difficulty. The parts of each were equally developed by education. By
contact with the world, perhaps most in Cæsar, least in Hannibal.
The high intellectuality of each is shown in the art of their plans,
in their ability to cope with difficult problems in the cabinet, and
work them out in the field; and with this went daring, caution, zeal,
patience, nervous equipoise which never knew demoralization. With
each, intelligence and decision grew with the demand. They were never
overtaxed. Strain made them the more elastic. Danger lent them the
greater valor. With each the brain worked faster and more precisely
the graver the test. As good judgment became more essential, the power
rightly to judge increased.
All were equally alert, untiring, vigilant, indomitable. But Alexander
was sometimes carried beyond the bounds of reason by his defiance of
danger. Cæsar’s intellectual powers were more pronounced in action
than his physical. Hannibal was always, in brain and heart, the true
captain; remembering his own necessity to his cause, but remembering
also the necessity to his cause of victory.
All maintained discipline at an equal standard. All fired their
soldiers to the utmost pitch in battle, all encouraged them to bear
privation in the field, and bore it with them. All equally won their
soldiers’ hearts. All obtained this control over men by scrupulous
care of their army’s welfare, courage equal to any test, readiness
to participate in the heat and labor of the day, personal magnetism,
justice in rewards and punishments, friendliness in personal
intercourse, and power of convincing men. In what they said, Alexander
and Hannibal spoke plain truths plainly. Cæsar was a finished orator.
But Cæsar and Alexander were so placed as readily to win the hearts of
their soldiers. That Hannibal did so, and kept the fealty of his motley
crowd of many nationalities throughout thirteen long years of disaster,
is one of the phenomenal facts of history.
Personal indifference or cruelty can not be charged to the score of
any one of them. Each gave frequent proof that he possessed abundant
human kindness. But Alexander was at times guilty of acts of brutality
and injustice. To Hannibal’s score can be put nothing of the kind.
Cæsar by no means lacked the gentler virtues. Some claim for him
sweetness equal to his genius. But he exhibited in the Gallic War a
singularly blunted conscience. Peoples were mere stepping-stones to his
progress. Judging Cæsar solely by his Commentaries, there goes hand in
hand with a chivalrous sense a callousness which is unapproached. He
could be liberal in his personal dealings, and unfeeling in his public
acts; magnanimous and ruthless.
Alexander and Hannibal were ambitious, but nobly so, and generous
withal. Cæsar’s ambition more nearly approached egotism. It was not
honor, but power, he sought. Not that he loved Rome less, but Cæsar
more. He was satisfied with nothing falling short of absolute control.
But Cæsar was not miserly. Gold was only counted as it could contribute
to his success. He was as lavish in the use of money as he was
careless of his methods of getting it. So far as native generosity was
concerned, Cæsar had, perhaps, as much as either of the others.
All three were keen in state-craft. But Alexander was frankly
above-board in his dealings. Hannibal kept his own counsel, making
no promises, nor giving his confidence to any. Cæsar was able, but
underhanded whenever it suited his purpose. He could be more cunning
in negotiation than even Hannibal, because less scrupulous. He could
exert his powers to bring the wavering or inimical to his side in a
most faultless manner.
In accomplishing vast results with meagre means, Alexander apparently
did more than either Hannibal or Cæsar in contending with savage or
semi-civilized tribes. The difference in numbers between Alexander and
the Oriental armies he met was greater, as a rule, than anything Cæsar
had to encounter. Yet on one or two occasions, as at the River Axona
and at Alesia, Cæsar was faced by overwhelming odds. Hannibal was the
only one of the three who contended against forces better armed, better
equipped, more intelligent, and ably led. There is no denying him the
palm in this. Of all the generals the world has ever seen, Hannibal
fought against the greatest odds. Alexander never encountered armies
which were such in the sense the Macedonian army was. Cæsar fought
both against barbarians and against Romans. Not equal, perhaps, in his
contests with the former, to Alexander, he was never taxed with such
opponents as was Hannibal. It is difficult to say that either of the
three accomplished more with slender means than the other. To reduce
them to the level of statistics savors of the absurd.
Each devoted scrupulous care to the welfare of his troops; to feeding,
clothing, and arming them; to properly resting them in winter quarters,
or after great exertions, and to watching their health.
Fortune, that fickle jade, was splendid Alexander’s constant companion
from birth till death. She forsook patient Hannibal after Cannæ, and
thenceforward persistently frowned upon him. She occasionally left
brilliant Cæsar,--but it was for a bare moment,--she always returned
to save him from his follies, and was, on the whole, marvellously
constant to him. Cæsar had to work for his results harder than
Alexander, but in no sense like overtaxed, indomitable Hannibal.
Alexander will always remain essentially the captain of fortune;
Hannibal essentially the captain of misfortune; Cæsar holds a middle
place. But had not Fortune on many occasions rushed to the rescue Cæsar
would never have lived to be Cæsar.
In common, these three great men obtained their results by their
organized system of war, that is, war founded on a sound theory,
properly worked out. To-day war has been reduced to a science which all
may study. Alexander knew no such science, nor Hannibal, nor indeed
Cæsar. What was, even so late as Cæsar’s day, known as the art of
war, covered merely the discipline of the troops, camp and permanent
fortifications, sieges according to the then existing means, and the
tactics of drill and battle. What has come down to this generation,
as a science, is a collection of the deeper lessons of these very men
and a few others, reduced during the past century by able pens to a
form which is comprehensible. Even Napoleon was annoyed at Jomini’s
early publications, lest the world and his opponents should learn his
methods of making war. We must remember that these captains of ancient
times were great primarily, because they created what Napoleon calls
_methodical_ war. It was many centuries before any one understood the
secret of their success. But Gustavus, Frederick, and Napoleon guessed
the secret and wrought according to it; and they made war in a day when
busy brain-tissue could analyze their great deeds for the benefit of
posterity.
Whatever their terms for designating their operations, the great
captains of antiquity always had a safe and suitable base; always
secured their rear, flanks, and communications; always sought the most
important points as objective, generally the enemy himself; and divided
their forces only for good reasons, at the proper moment again to bring
them together. We find in their history few infractions of the present
maxims of war, and only such as a genius is justified in making,
because he feels his ability to dictate to circumstances.
War to these men was incessant labor, never leisure. It was only at
rare intervals that they stopped even to gather breath; and this done,
their work was again resumed with double vigor. Each sought to do that
which his enemy least expected, and looked upon no obstacle as too
great to be overcome. Each was careful in the matter of logistics,
according to the existing conditions. Each was careful to husband his
resources, and each had a far-reaching outlook on the future.
Their battle tactics were alike in suiting the means at disposal to the
end to be accomplished, and in originating new methods of disturbing
the equipoise of the enemy, and thus leading up to his defeat. Each of
them used his victories to the utmost advantage. Even Hannibal, though
after the first few years he was unable to reap any harvest from his
wonderful work, continued his campaign by occasional minor victories,
while awaiting recognition from home. Alexander’s and Cæsar’s victories
were uniformly decisive; from the very nature of the case, Hannibal’s
could not be so.
In field fortification, Cæsar was far in the lead. At a long interval
followed Hannibal. Alexander made little or no use of this method of
compelling victory. In regular sieges, both Alexander and Cæsar stand
much higher than Hannibal, who disliked siege-work, and whose only
brilliant example is the siege of Saguntum. Nor can this compare with
Tyre or Alesia.
What has Cæsar done for the art of war? Nothing beyond what Alexander
and Hannibal had done before him. But it has needed, in the history
of war, that ever and anon there should come a master who could point
the world to the right path of methodical war from which it is so easy
to stray. Nothing shows this better than the fact that, for seventeen
centuries succeeding Cæsar, there was no great captain. There were
great warriors,--men who did great deeds, who saved Europe “from the
civil and religious yoke of the Koran,” as Charles Martel did at Tours,
or England from the craft of Rome and power of Philip, as Howard,
Drake, and Hawkins did in destroying the Invincible Armada,--men who
changed the course of the world’s events. But these were not great
captains, in the sense that they taught us lessons in the art of war.
The result of their victories was vast; but from their manner of
conducting war we can learn nothing. Cæsar is of another stamp. In
every campaign there are many lessons for the student of to-day. In his
every soldierly attribute, intellectual and moral, we find something to
invite imitation. It is because Cæsar waged war by the use of purely
intellectual means, backed up by a character which overshadowed all
men he ever met, that he is preëminent. Conquerors and warriors who
win important battles, even battles decisive of the world’s history,
are not, of necessity, great in this sense. All that Alexander, or
Hannibal, or Cæsar would need in order to accomplish the same results
in our day and generation which they accomplished before the Christian
era, would be to adapt their work to the present means, material, and
conditions. And it is the peculiar qualification of each that he was
able, under any and all conditions, to fuse into success the elements
as they existed, by the choice from the means at hand of those which
were peculiarly suited to the bearings of the time.
Cæsar was tall and spare. His face was mobile and intellectual. He
was abstinent in diet, and of sober habit. As a young man he had been
athletic and noted as a rider. In the Gallic campaigns he rode a
remarkable horse which no one else could mount. He affected the society
of women. His social character was often a contrast to his public
acts. He was a good friend, a stanch enemy, affable and high-bred. As
a writer, he was simple, direct, convincing; as an orator, second to
no one but Cicero. No doubt Cæsar’s life-work was as essential in the
Roman economy as it was admirably rounded. But that he was without
reproach, as he certainly was without fear, can scarcely be maintained.
In leaving Cæsar, we leave the last great captain of ancient times,
and, perhaps, taking his life-work,--which it has been outside my
province to dwell upon,--the greatest, though not the most admirable,
man who ever lived.
LECTURE IV.
GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.
The difference between ancient and modern war is marked, but each is
consistent with its conditions. In ancient days the armies of the
civilized nations were, as a rule, not large. They could generally find
sustenance wherever they moved, and were obliged to carry but a few
days’ victuals with them. Their arms were such as not only to remain
long fit for service, but they were capable of repair upon the spot.
Neither trains to carry provision and munitions of war were essential,
nor were fortified magazines for storing such material indispensable.
The communications of an army had not to be so zealously guarded, for
it could live and fight even if cut off from its base. On the other
hand, battle was of the utmost importance, and the average campaign was
but a march toward the enemy, a fight in parallel order and a victory.
A battle, owing to the short reach of missiles, was of necessity a
more or less hand-to-hand affair. First, the light troops, archers and
slingers, advanced like our skirmishers, and opened the fighting. They
were then withdrawn and the lines of heavy foot advanced to within
javelin-throwing distance. Here they stood and cast their weapons,
with which the light troops kept them supplied. At intervals groups
from the lines closed and the sword was used, or the heavy thrusting
pike. Meanwhile the cavalry, always on the extreme wings, charged the
enemy’s, and if it could defeat it, wheeled in on the flanks of the
infantry, and this was apt to decide the day.
Once engaged, an army could not be withdrawn, as ours can be, under
cover of artillery, whose effective use from a distance over the heads
of the troops will retard or prevent the enemy’s pursuit. Battles
joined had to be fought out to the end. Thus victory to one was wont to
be annihilation to the other. From these simple conditions it resulted
that the art of war among the ancients was confined to tactical values,
or the evolutions of the battle-field, and to fortification and sieges.
The ancient military writings cover no other ground. There was little
conception of what we call strategy,--the art of so moving armies over
the surface of a country, that as great damage may be done to the enemy
as by battle, or at least that the enemy may be so compromised as that
a victory over him shall be a decisive one. Strategy among the ancients
was mere stratagem,--except in the case of the great captains, whose
genius made them instinctively great strategists,--for strategy is the
highest grade of intellectual common sense. But the reasons for their
strategic movements were not understood by the rest of the world, as
we to-day can understand them. Others could not make sound strategic
manœuvres, and saw good in naught but battle.
From the time of Cæsar, there was a gradual decline in the conduct of
war, which he had so highly illustrated, and there is little, from
his age to the invention of gunpowder, which has any bearing of value
on the art to-day. There were great generals, there were victories
which changed the destinies of the world, but there was no method in
war. For many centuries there was scarcely such a thing as an art of
war. One might say that matters had reverted to the old lack of system
antedating Alexander.
After the discovery of gunpowder, however, there was a gradual
revival of scientific, or more properly methodical war, to which
Gustavus Adolphus gave the first intellectual impulse. The conditions
of warfare became completely changed by this great invention in
ballistics. Fire-arms soon got into the hands of both infantry and
cavalry. Artillery took on importance and effectiveness. Armies became
numerically stronger, depots for the needful materials were established
in their rear, and the troops were supplied from these depots. This
gave great importance to fortifying cities and to fortresses, in which
lay the provision and war material; and as rations, ammunition, and
stores had to be constantly brought from these depots to the front,--to
maintain the communications of the armies with these strong places
became a matter of primary importance. For the loss of a great fortress
containing the army’s bread and powder and ball might have as grave
consequences as the loss of a battle,--even graver.
Armies, thus handicapped with heavier trains and with artillery-parks,
had less mobility, and were less fitted for pursuit than the old
troops, which could carry all they needed with them. Victories were
not followed up. Battles became less decisive, and dropped into
disuse. Strategy had not yet grown to be the science to which Gustavus
Adolphus, Frederick, and Napoleon elevated it, and generals had not
learned so to manœuvre as to make battles decisive when won. Modern
war, up to the days of Gustavus, was clumsy and lacking in general
scheme. It was rescued from this condition by the Swedish king.