Young people are often charged with caring little for the past. The
charge is just; and the young are right. If they care little for the
past, then it is certain that it is in debt to them,--as for them the
past cared nothing. It is wonderful, considering how children used to be
treated, that the human race ever succeeded in getting established on
earth. Humanity should have died out, there was so little that was
humane in its bringing up. Because they had contrived to bring a
helpless creature into a world that every one wishes he had never known
at least twenty-four times a day, a father and mother of the very old
school indeed assumed that they had the right to make that creature a
slave, and to hold it in everlasting chains. They had much to say about
the duty of children, and very little about the love of parents. The
sacrificing of children to idols, a not uncommon practice in some
renowned countries of antiquity, the highest-born children being the
favorite victims,--for Moloch's appetite was delicate,--could never have
taken place in any country where the voice of Nature was heeded; and yet
those sacrifices were but so many proofs of the existence of a spirit of
pride, which caused men to offer up their offspring on the domestic
altar. Son and slave were almost the same word with the Romans; and your
genuine old Roman made little ado about cutting off the head of one of
his boys, perhaps for doing something of a praiseworthy nature. Old
Junius Brutus was doubly favored by Fortune, for he was enabled to kill
two of his sons in the name of Patriotism, and thereby to gain a
reputation for virtue that endures to this day,--though, after all, he
was but the first of the brutes. The Romans kept up the paternal rule
for many ages, and theoretically it long survived the Republic. It had
existed in the Kingdom, and it was not unknown to the Empire. We have an
anecdote that shows how strong was the supremacy of _paterfamilias_ at
the beginning of the eighth century, when Young Rome had already made
more than one audacious display of contempt for the Conscript Fathers.
When Pompeius was asked what he would do, if Cæsar should resist the
requirements of the Senate, he answered,--"What if my son should raise
his stick against me?"--meaning to imply, that, in his opinion,
resistance from Cæsar was something too absurd to be thought of. Yet
Cæsar _did_ resist, and triumphed; and, judging from their after-lives,
we should say that the Young Pompeys would have had small hesitation in
raising their sticks against their august governor, had he proved too
disobedient. A few years earlier, according to Sallust, a Roman, one
Fulvius, had caused his son to be put to death, because he had sought to
join Catiline. The old gentleman heard what his son was about, and when
Young Hopeful was arrested and brought before him, he availed himself of
his fatherly privilege, and had him strangled, or disposed of after some
other of those charming fashions which were so common in the model
republic of antiquity. "This imitation of the discipline of the ancient
republic," says Merivale, "excited neither applause nor indignation
among the languid voluptuaries of the Senate." They probably voted
Fulvius a brute, but they no more thought of questioning the legality of
his conduct than they did of imitating it. Law was one thing, opinion
another. If he liked to play Lucius Junius, well and good; but they had
no taste for the part. They felt much as we used to feel in
Fugitive-Slave-Law times: we did not question the law, but we would have
nothing to do with its execution.
Modern fathers have had no such powers as were held by those of Rome,
and if an Englishman of Red-Rose views had killed his son for setting
off to join Edward IV. when he had landed at Ravenspur, no one would
think of praising the act. What was all right in a Roman of the year 1
of the Republic would be considered shocking in a Christian of the
fifteenth century, a time when Christianity had become much diluted from
the inter-mixture of blood. In the next century, poor Lady Jane Grey
spoke of the torments which she had endured at the hands of her parents,
who were of the noblest blood of Europe, in terms that ought to make
every young woman thankful that her lot was not cast in the good old
times. Roger Ascham was her confidant. He had gone to Brodegate, to take
leave of her, and "found her in her chamber alone, reading Phædo
Platonis in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would
read a merry tale of Boccace"; and as all the rest of the Greys were
hunting in the park, the schoolmaster inquired why she should lose such
pastime. The lady answered, that the pleasure they were having in the
park was but the shadow of that pleasure she found in Plato. The
conversation proceeding, Ascham inquired how it was that she had come to
know such true pleasure, and she answered,--"I will tell you, and tell
you a truth which perchance ye may marvel at. One of the greatest
benefits God ever gave me is that he sent me so sharp and severe parents
and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I am in presence either of father
or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink,
be merry, or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I
must do it as it were in such weight, number, and measure, even so
perfectly as God made the world, or else I am so sharply taunted, so
cruelly threatened, yea, presently, sometimes with pinches, nips, and
bobs, and other ways, (which I will not name for the honor I bear them,)
so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time
come that I must go to Mr. Elmer, who teacheth me so gently, so
pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the
time nothing while I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall
on weeping, because whatsoever I do else beside learning is full of
grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath
been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily more pleasure and more,
that in respect of it all other pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles
and troubles to me." The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk were neither better
nor worse than other parents who tormented and tyrannized over their
children _temp._ Edward VI., and nothing but the prominence of the most
unfortunate of their unfortunate daughters has preserved the memory of
their domestic despotism. Throughout all England it was the same, from
palace to castle, and from castle to hovel; and father and tyrant were
convertible terms. Youth must have been but a dreary time in those old
days. Scott's Sir Henry Lee, according to his son, kept strict rule over
his children, and he was a type of the antique knight, not of the
debauched cavalier, and would be obeyed, with or without reason. The
letters and the literature of the seventeenth century show, that, how
loose soever became other ties, parents maintained their hold on their
children with iron hands. Even the license of the Restoration left
fatherly rule largely triumphant and undisputed. When even "husbands, of
decent station, were not ashamed to beat their wives," sons and
daughters were not spoiled by a sparing of the rod. Harshness was the
rule in every grade of life, and harsh indeed was parental rule, until
the reader wonders that there was not a general rebellion of women,
children, scholars, and apprentices against the savage ascendency of
husbands, fathers, pedagogues, and masters.
But the fashions of this world, whether good or evil, pass away. In the
eighteenth century we find parents becoming more humane, though still
keeping their offspring pretty stiffly bitted. They shared in the
general melioration of the age. The father was "honored sir," and was
not too familiar with his boys. The great outbreak at the close of the
century did much for the emancipation of the young; and by the time that
the present century had advanced to a third of its years, youth had so
far got the best of the conflict, and treated their elders with so
little consideration, that it was thought the latter were rather
presumptuous in remaining on earth after fifty. Youth began to organize
itself. Young Germany, Young France, and Young England became powers in
the world. Young Germany was revolutionary and metaphysical, and
nourished itself on bad beer and worse tobacco. Young France was
full-bearded and decidedly dirty, and so far deferred to the past as to
look for models in '93; and it had a strong reverence for that antique
sentiment which exhibited itself in the assassination of kings. Young
England was gentlemanly and cleanly, its leaders being of the patrician
order; and it looked to the Middle Ages for patterns of conduct. Its
chiefs wore white waistcoats, gave red cloaks and broken meat to old
women, and would have lopped off three hundred years from Old England's
life, by pushing her back to the early days of Henry VIII., when the
religious houses flourished, and when the gallows was a perennial plant,
bearing fruit that was _not_ for the healing of the nations. Some of the
cleverest of the younger members of the aristocracy belonged to the new
organization, and a great genius wrote some delightful novels to show
their purpose, and to illustrate their manner of how-not-to-do-it in
grappling with the grand social questions of the age. In "Coningsby"
they sing canticles and carry about the boar's head; in "Sibyl" they
sing hymns to the Holy Virgin and the song of labor, and steal
title-deeds, after setting houses on fire to distract attention from
their immediate object; and in "Tancred" they go on pilgrimage to the
Holy Sepulchre, by way of reviving their faith. All this is so well
done, that Young England will survive in literature, and be the source
of edification, long after there shall be no more left of the dust of
its chiefs than there is of the dust of Cheops or Cæsar. For all these
youths are already vanished, leaving no more traces than you would find
of the flowers that bloomed in the days of their lives. Young Germany
went out immediately after the failure of the revolutionists of 1848-9.
Young France thought it had triumphed in the fall of the Orléans
monarchy, but had only taken the first long step toward making its own
fall complete; and now some of its early members are of the firmest
supporters of the new phase of imperialism, the only result of the
Revolution of February that has given signs of endurance. Young England
went out as soberly and steadily as it had lived. The select few who
composed it died like gentlemen, and were as polite as Lord Chesterfield
in the article of death. Some of them turned Whigs, and have held office
under Lord Palmerston; and others are Tories, and expect to hold office
under Lord Derby, when he shall form his third ministry. Young America,
the worst of these youths, and the latest born, was never above an
assassin in courage, or in energy equal to more than the plundering of a
hen-roost. The fruits of his exertions are to be seen in some of the
incidents of the Secession War, and they were not worth the gathering.
The world had settled down into the belief, that, after all, a man was
not much to be blamed for growing old, and liberal-minded people were
fast coming to the conclusion, that years, on the whole, were not
dishonorable, when the breaking out of a great war led to the return of
youth to consideration. The English found themselves at war with Russia,
much to their surprise; and, still more to their surprise, their part in
that war was made subordinate to that of the French, who acted with
them, in the world's estimate of the deeds of the members of the new
Grand Alliance. This is not the place to discuss the question whether
that estimate was a just one. We have to do only with the facts that
England was made to stand in the background and that she seemed at first
disposed to accept the general verdict. There was, too, much
mismanagement in the conduct of the war, some of which might easily have
been avoided; and there was not a little suffering, as the consequence
of that mismanagement. John Bull must have his scape-goat, like the rest
of us; and, looking over the field, he discovered that all his leaders
were old men, and forthwith, though the oldest of old fellows himself,
he laid all his mishaps to the account of the years of his upper
servants. Sir Charles Napier, who never got into St. Petersburg, was
old, and had been a dashing sailor forty years before. Admiral Dundas,
who did not destroy Sweaborg, but only burned a lot of corded wood there
in summer time, was another old sailor. Lord Raglan, who never saw the
inside of Sebastopol, was well stricken in years, having served in
Wellington's military family during the Peninsular War. General Simpson,
Sir C. Campbell, General Codrington, Sir G. Brown, Sir G. Cathcart, and
others of the leaders of the English army in the Crimea, were of the
class of gentlemen who might, upon meeting, furnish matter for a
paragraph on "united ages." What more natural than to attribute all that
was unpleasant in the war to the stagnated blood of men who had heard
the music of that musketry before which Napoleon I.'s empire had gone
down? The world went mad on the subject, and it was voted that old
generals were nuisances, and that no man had any business in active war
who was old enough to have much experience. Age might be venerable, but
it was necessarily weak; and the last place in which it should show
itself was the field.
It was not strange that the English should have come to the conclusion
that the fogies were unfit to lead armies. They were in want of an
excuse for their apparent failure in the war, and they took the part
that was suggested to them,--therein behaving no worse than ourselves,
who have accounted for our many reverses in many foolish and
contradictory ways. But it was strange that their view was accepted by
others, whose minds were undisturbed, because unmistified,--and
accepted, too, in face of the self-evident fact that almost every man
who figured in the war was old. Maréchal Pelissier,[A] to whom the chief
honor of the contest has been conceded, was but six years the junior of
Lord Raglan; and if the Englishman's sixty-six years are to count
against age in war, why should not the Frenchman's sixty years count for
it? Prince Gortschakoff, who defended Sebastopol so heroically, was but
four years younger than Lord Raglan; and Prince Paskevitch was more than
six years his senior. Muravieff, Menschikoff, Luders, and other Russian
commanders opposed to the Allies, were all old men, all past sixty years
when the war began. Prince Menschikoff was sixty-four when he went on
his famous mission to Constantinople, and he did not grow younger in the
eighteen months that followed, and at the end of which he fought and
lost the Battle of the Alma. The Russian war was an old man's war, and
the stubbornness with which it was waged had in it much of that ugliness
which belongs to age.
"The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire.
But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire."
What rendered the attacks that were made on old generals in 1854-6 the
more absurd was the fact, that the English called upon an old man to
relieve them from bad government, and were backed by other nations. Lord
Palmerston, upon whom all thoughts and all eyes were directed, was older
than any one of those generals to whose years Englishmen attributed
their country's failure. When, with the all but universal approbation of
Great Britain and her friends, he became Prime-Minister, he was in his
seventy-first year, and his action showed that his natural force was not
abated. He was called to play the part of the elder Pitt at a greater
age than Pitt reached; and he did not disappoint expectation. It is
strange indeed, considering that the Premiership was a more difficult
post to fill than that held by any English general, that the English
should rely upon the oldest of their active statesmen to retrieve their
fortunes, while they were condemning as unfit for service men who were
his juniors by several years.
In truth, the position that youth is necessary to success in war is not
sustained by military history. It may he no drawback to a soldier's
excellence that he is young, but it is equally true that an old man may
possess every quality that is necessary in a soldier who would serve his
country well and win immortal fame for himself. The best of the Greek
commanders were men in advanced life, with a few exceptions. The precise
age of Miltiades at Marathon is unproven; but as he had become a noted
character almost thirty years before the date of that most memorable of
battles, he must have been old when he fought and won it. Even
Alcibiades, with whom is associated the idea of youth through his whole
career, as if Time had stood still in his behalf, did not have a great
command until he was approaching to middle age; and it was not until
some years more had expired that he won victories for the Athenians. The
date of the birth of Epaminondas--the best public man of all antiquity,
and the best soldier of Greece--cannot be fixed; but we find him a
middle-aged man when first he appears on that stage on which he
performed so pure and brilliant a part through seventeen eventful years.
Eight years after he first came forward he won the Battle of Leuctra,
which shattered the Spartan supremacy forever, and was the most perfect
specimen of scientific fighting that is to be found in classical
history, and which some of the greatest of modern commanders have been
proud merely to imitate. After that action, but not immediately after
it, he invaded the Peloponnesus, and led his forces to the vicinity of
Sparta, and then effected a revolution that bridled that power
perpetually. Nine years after Leuctra he won the Battle of Mantinea,
dying on the field. He must then have been an old man, but the last of
his campaigns was a miracle of military skill in all respects; and the
effect of his death was the greatest that ever followed the fall of a
general on a victorious field, actually turning victory into defeat. The
Spartan king, Agesilaus II., who was a not unworthy antagonist of the
great Theban, was an old man, and was over seventy when he saved Sparta
solely through his skill as a soldier and his energy as a statesman. As
a rule, the Greeks, the most intellectual of all races, were averse to
the employment of young men in high offices. The Spartan Brasidas, if it
be true that he fell in the flower of his age, as the historian asserts,
may have been a young man at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, in
which he was eminently distinguished; but it was his good fortune to be
singularly favored by circumstances on more than one occasion, and his
whole career was eminently exceptional to the general current of
Hellenic life.
The Romans, though not braver than the Greeks, were more fortunate in
their military career than the stayers of the march of Persia. Like the
Greeks, they had but few young generals of much reputation. Most of
their conquests, and, indeed, the salvation of their country, were the
work of old leaders. The grand crisis of Rome was in the years that
followed the arrival of Hannibal in Italy; and the two men who did most
to baffle the invader were Fabius and Marcellus, who were called,
respectively, Rome's shield and sword. They were both old men, though
Marcellus may have been looked upon as young in comparison with Fabius,
who was upward of seventy, and who, eight years after his memorable
pro-dictatorship, retook Tarentum and baffled Hannibal. The old
_Lingerer_ was, at eighty, too clever, slow as they thought him at Rome,
to be "taken in" by Hannibal, who had prepared a nice trap for him, into
which he would not walk. Marcellus was about fifty-two when he was
pitted against the victor of Cannæ, and he met him on various occasions,
and sometimes with striking success. At the age of fifty-six he took
Syracuse, after one of the most memorable of sieges, in which he had
Archimedes for an opponent. At sixty he was killed in a skirmish,
leaving the most brilliant military name of the republican times, so
highly are valor and energy rated, though in the higher qualities of
generalship he was inferior to men whose names are hardly known.
Undoubtedly, Mommsen is right when he says that Rome was saved by the
Roman system, and not by the labors of this man or that; but it is
something for a country to have men who know how to work under its
system, and in accordance with its requirements; and such men were
Fabius and Marcellus, the latter old enough to be Hannibal's father,
while the former was the contemporary of his grandfather.
The turning point in the Second Punic War was the siege of Capua by the
Romans. That siege Hannibal sought by all means in his power to raise,
well knowing, that, if the Campanian city should fall, he could never
hope to become master of Italy. He marched to Rome in the expectation of
compelling the besiegers to hasten to its defence; but without effect.
Two old Romans commanded the beleaguering army, and while one of them,
Q. Fulvius, hastened home with a small force, the other, Appius
Claudius, carried on the siege. Hannibal had to retreat, and Capua fell,
the effect of the tenacity with which ancient generals held on to their
prey. Had they been less firm, the course of history would have been
changed. At a later period of the war, Rome was saved from great danger,
if not from destruction, by the victory of the Metaurus, won by M.
Livius Salinator and C. Claudius Nero. Nero was an elderly man, having
been conspicuous for some years, and the consular age being forty. His
colleague was a very old man, having been consul before the war began,
and having long lived in retirement, because he had been unjustly
treated. The Romans now forced him to take office, against his wish,
though his actions and his language were of the most insulting
character. A great union of parties had taken place, for Hasdrubal was
marching to Italy, for the purpose of effecting a junction with his
brother Hannibal, and it was felt that nothing short of perfect union
could save the State. The State was saved, the two old consuls acting
together, and defeating and slaying Hasdrubal in the last great battle
of the war that was fought in Italy. The old fogies were too much for
their foe, a much younger man than either of them, and a soldier of high
reputation.
It must be admitted, however, that the Second Punic War is fairly
quotable by those who insist upon the superiority of youthful generals
over old ones, for the two greatest men who appeared in it were young
leaders,--Hannibal, and Publius Cornelius Scipio, the first Africanus.
No man has ever exceeded Hannibal in genius for war. He was one of the
greatest statesmen that ever lived, and he was so because he was the
greatest of soldiers. He might have won pitched battles as a mere
general, but it was his statesmanship that enabled him to contend for
sixteen years against Rome, in Italy, though Rome was aided by
Carthaginian copperheads. But, though a young general, Hannibal was an
old soldier when he led his army from the Ebro to the Trebia, as the
avenging agent of his country's gods. His military as well as his moral
training began in childhood; and when his father, Hamilcar Barcas,[B]
was killed, Hannibal, though but eighteen, was of established reputation
in the Carthaginian service. Eight years later he took the place which
his father and brother-in-law had held, called to it by the voice of the
army. During those eight years he had been constantly employed, and he
brought to the command an amount and variety of experience such as it
has seldom been the lot of even old generals to acquire. Years brought
no decay to his faculties, and we have the word of his successful foe,
that at Zama, when he was forty-five, he showed as much skill as he had
displayed at Cannæ, when he was but thirty-one. Long afterward, when an
exile in the East, his powers of mind shine as brightly as they did when
he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps to fulfil his oath. Scipio, too,
though in a far less degree than Hannibal, was an old soldier. He had
been often employed, and was present at Cannæ, before he obtained that
proconsular command in Spain which was the worthy foundation of his
fortunes. The four years that he served in that country, and his
subsequent services in Africa, qualified him to meet Hannibal, whose
junior he was by thirteen years. That he was Hannibal's superior,
because he defeated him at Zama, with the aid of Masinissa, no more
follows than that Wellington was Napoleon's superior, because, with the
aid of Blücher, he defeated him at Waterloo. It would not be more
difficult to account for the loss of the African field than it is to
account for the loss of the Flemish field, by the superior genius. The
elder Africanus is the most exceptional character in all history, and it
is impossible to place him. He seems never to have been young, and we
cannot associate the idea of age with him, even when he is dying at
Liternum at upwards of fifty. He was a man at seventeen, when first he
steps boldly out on the historic page, and there is no apparent change
in him when we find him leading great armies, and creating a new policy
for the redemption of Italy from the evils of war. He was intended to be
a king, but he was born two centuries too early to be of any use to his
country in accordance with his genius, out of the field. Such a man is
not to be judged as a mere soldier, and we were inclined not to range
him on the side of youthful generals; but we will be generous, and, in
consideration of his years, permit him to be claimed by those who insist
that war is the business of youth.
At later periods, Rome's greatest generals were men who were old. The
younger Africanus was fifty-one at Numantia, Marius did not obtain the
consulship until he was fifty; and he was fifty-five when he won his
first great victory over the Northern barbarians, and a year older when
he completed their destruction. Sulla was past fifty when he set out to
meet the armies of Mithridates, which he conquered; and he was fifty-six
when he made himself master of his country, after one of the fiercest
campaigns on record. Pompeius distinguished himself when very young, but
it is thought that the title of "the Great" was conferred upon him by
Sulla in a spirit of irony. The late Sir William Napier, who ought to
have been a good judge, said that he was a very great general, and in a
purely military sense perhaps greater than Cæsar. He was fifty-eight in
the campaign of Pharsalia, and if he then failed, his failure must be
attributed to the circumstances of his position, which was rather that
of a party leader than of a general; and a party leader, it has been
truly said, must sometimes obey, in order that at other times he may
command. Pompeius delivered battle at Pharsalia against his own
judgment. The "Onward to Rome!" cry of the fierce aristocrats was too
strong to be resisted; and "their general yielded with a sigh to the
importunities of his followers, declaring that he could no longer
command, and must submit to obey." Not long before he had beaten Cæsar
at Dyrrachium, with much loss to the vanquished, completely spoiling his
plans; and the great contest might have had a very different result, had
not political and personal considerations been permitted to outweigh
those of a military character. Politicians are pests in a camp. Cæsar
was in his fifty-first year when he crossed the Rubicon and began his
wonderful series of campaigns in the Civil War,--campaigns characterized
by an almost superhuman energy. The most remarkable of his efforts was
that which led to his last appearance in the field, at the Battle of
Munda, where he fought for existence; he was then approaching
fifty-five, and he could not have been more active and energetic, had he
been as young as Alexander at Arbela.
In modern days, the number of old generals who have gained great battles
is large, far larger than the number of young generals of the highest
class. The French claim to be the first of military peoples, and though
no other nation has been so badly beaten in battles, or so completely
crushed in campaigns, there is a general disposition to admit their
claim; and many of their best commanders were old men. Bertrand du
Gueselin performed his best deeds against the English after he was
fifty, and he was upward of sixty years when the commandant of Randon
laid the keys of his fortress on his body, surrendering, not to the
living, but to the dead. Turenne was ever great, but it is admitted that
his three last campaigns, begun when he was sixty-two, were his greatest
performances. Condé's victory at Rocroi was a most brilliant deed, he
being then but twenty-two; but it does not so strikingly illustrate his
genius as do those operations by which, at fifty-four, he baffled
Montecuculi, and prevented him from profiting from the fall of Turenne.
Said Condé to one of his officers, "How much I wish that I could have
conversed only two hours with the ghost of Monsieur de Turenne, so as to
be able to follow the scope of his ideas!" In these days, generals can
have as much ghostly talk as they please, but the privilege would not
seem to be much used, or it is not useful, for they do nothing that is
of consequence sufficient to be attributed to supernatural power.
Luxembourg was sixty-two when he defeated Prince Waldeck at Fleurus; and
at sixty-four and sixty-five he defeated William III. at Steinkirk and
Landen. Vendôme was fifty-one when he defeated Eugène at Cassano; and at
fifty-six he won the eventful Battle of Villaviciosa, to which the
Spanish Bourbons owe their throne. Villars, who fought the terrible
Battle of Malplaquet against Marlborough and Eugène, was then fifty-six
years old; and he had more than once baffled those commanders. At sixty
he defeated Eugène, and by his successes enabled France to conclude
honorably a most disastrous war. The Comte de Saxe was in his
forty-ninth year when he gained the Battle of Fontenoy;[C] and later he
won other successes. Rochambeau was in his fifty-seventh year when he
acted with Washington at Yorktown, in a campaign that established our
existence as a nation.
The Spanish army of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, down to the
date of the Battle of Rocroi, stood very high. Several of its best
generals were old men. Gonsalvo de Córdova, "the Great Captain," who may
be considered the father of the famous Spanish infantry, was fifty when
he completed his Italian conquests; and nine years later he was again
called to the head of the Spaniards in Italy, but the King of Aragon's
jealousy prevented him from going to that country. Alva was about sixty
when he went to the Netherlands, on his awful mission; and it must be
allowed that he was as great in the field as he was detestably cruel. At
seventy-four he conquered Portugal. Readers of Mr. Prescott's work on
Peru will remember his lively account of Francisco de Carbajal, who at
fourscore was more active than are most men at thirty. Francisco Pizarro
was an old man, about sixty, when he effected the conquest of Peru; and
his principal associate, Almagro, was his senior. Spinola, who died at
sixty-one, in the full possession of his reputation, was, perhaps, the
greatest military genius of his time, next to Gustavus Adolphus and
Wallenstein.
The Austrian military service has become a sort of butt with those who
shoot their arrows at what is called slowness, and who delight to
transfix old generals. Since Bonaparte, in less than a year, tumbled
over Beaulieu, Wurmser, and Alvinczy, (whose united ages exceeded two
hundred years,) it has been taken for granted that the Austrians never
have generals under threescore-and-ten years, and that they are always
beaten. There have been many old generals in the Austrian service, it is
true, and most of them have been very good leaders. Montecuculi was
fifty-six when he defeated the Turks at St. Gothard, which is counted
one of the "decisive battles" of the seventeenth century. Daun was
fifty-three when he won the victory of Kolin, June 18, 1757, inflicting
defeat on the Prussian Frederick, next to Marlborough the greatest
commander of modern times who had then appeared. Melas was seventy when
he met Bonaparte at Marengo, and beat him, the victory being with the
Austrian while he remained on the field; but infirmities having
compelled him to leave before he could glean it, the arrival of Desaix
and the dash of the younger Kellermann turned the tide of battle in
favor of the French. General Zach, Melas's chief of the staff, was in
command in the latter part of the battle, and it is supposed, that, if
he had not been captured, the Austrians would have kept what they had
won. He was fifty-six years old, but was not destined to be the "Old
Zach" of his country, as _the_ "Old Zach" was always victorious. Marshal
Radelzky was eighty-two when, in 1848, he found himself compelled to
uphold the Austrian cause in Italy, without the hope of aid from home;
and not only did he uphold it, but a year later he restored it
completely, and was the virtual ruler of the Peninsula until he had
reached the age of ninety. Of all the military men who took part in the
wars of 1848-9, he, it is admitted, displayed the most talent and
energy. So well was his work done, that it required the united forces of
France and Sardinia to undo it, shortly after his death; and he died in
the conviction that it could not be undone. Haynau, who certainly
displayed eminent ability in 1848-9, was in his sixty-second year when
the war began, and stands next to Radetzky as the preserver of the
Austrian monarchy; and we should not allow detestation of his cruelties
to detract from his military merits. The Devil is entitled to justice,
and by consequence so are his imps. Austria has often seen her armies
beaten when led by old men, but other old men have won victories for
her. Even those of her generals who were so rapidly beaten by young
Bonaparte had been good soldiers elsewhere; and when the Archduke
Charles, who was two years the junior of Bonaparte, was sent to meet the
Frenchman, he had no better luck than had been found by Beaulieu and
Wurmser, though his reverses were not on the same extraordinary scale
that had marked the fall of his predecessors. Twelve years later, in
1809, Napoleon again met the Archduke Charles, and defeated him
repeatedly; and though the Archduke was victorious at Essling, he, the
younger commander, had not sufficient boldness so to improve his success
as should have given to Austria the credit of the deliverance of
Germany, which was to come from Russia. Those who dwell so
pertinaciously on the failures of old Austrian generals should in
justice to age remember that it was a young Austrian general, and a good
soldier too, who showed a most extraordinary want of energy in 1809,
immediately after the French under Napoleon had met with the greatest
reverse which their arms had then experienced since Bonaparte had been
spoiled into a despot. Prince Schwartzenberg, who had nominal command of
the Allied Armies in 1813-14, was of the same age as the Archduke
Charles, but it would be absurd to call him a great soldier. He was a
brave man, and he had seen considerable service; but as a general he did
not rank even as second-rate. His appointment to command in 1813 was a
political proceeding, meant to conciliate Austria; but though it was a
useful appointment in some respects, it was injurious to the Allies in
the field; and had the Prince's plan at Leipsic been adhered to,
Napoleon would have won decided successes there. The Czar wished for the
command, and his zeal might have enabled him to do something; but the
entire absence of military talent from the list of his accomplishments
would have greatly endangered the Allies' cause. Schwartzenberg's merit
consisted in this, that he had sufficient influence and tact to "keep
things straight" in the councils of a jarring confederacy, until others
had gained such victories as placed the final defeat of Napoleon beyond
all doubt. His first battle was Dresden, and there Napoleon gave him a
drubbing of the severest character; and the loss of that battle would
have carried with it the loss of the cause for which it was fought by
the Allies, had it not been that at the very same time were fought and
won a series of battles, at the Katzbach and elsewhere, which were due
to the boldness of Blücher, who was old enough to be Schwartzenberg's
father, with more than a dozen years to spare. Blücher was also the real
hero at Leipsie, where he gained brilliant successes; while on that part
of the field where Schwartzenberg commanded, the Allies did but little
beyond holding their original ground. Had Blücher failed, Leipsie would
have been a French victory.
England's best generals mostly have been old men, or men well advance in
life, the chief exceptions being found among her kings and princes.[D]
The Englishmen who have exhibited the greatest genius for war, in what
may be called their country's modern history, are Oliver Cromwell,
Marlborough, and Wellington. Cromwell was in his forty-fourth year when
he received the baptism of fire at Edgehill, as a captain; and he was in
his fifty-third year when he fought, as lord-general, his last battle,
at Worcester, which closed a campaign, as well as an active military
career, that had been conducted with great energy. It was as a military
man that he subsequently ruled the British islands, and to the day of
his death there was no abatement in ability. Marlborough had a good
military education, served under Turenne when he was but twenty-two, and
attracted his commander's admiration; but he never had an independent
command until he was forty, when he led an expedition to Ireland, and
captured Cork and Kinsale. He was fifty-two when he assumed command of
the armies of the Grand Alliance against Louis XIV., and in his
fifty-fifth year when he won the Battle of Blenheim. At fifty-six he
gained the victory of Ramillies, and at fifty-eight that of Oudenarde.
His last great battle, Malplaquet, was fought when he was in his
sixtieth year; and after that the French never durst meet him in the
field. He never knew what defeat meant, from experience, and was the
most successful even of those commanders who have never failed. He left
his command at sixty-two, with no one to dispute his title of the first
of living soldiers; and with him victory left the Alliance. Subsequently
he was employed by George I., and to his measures the defeat of the
rebels of 1715 was due, he having predicted that they would be
overthrown precisely where they were overthrown. The story that he
survived his mental powers is without foundation, and he continued to
perform his official duties to the last, the King having refused to
accept his proffered resignation. Wellington had a thorough military
training, received his first commission at eighteen, and was a
lieutenant-colonel in his twenty-fifth year. After showing that he was a
good soldier in 1794-5, against the French, he went to India, where he
distinguished himself in subordinate campaigns, and was made a
major-general in 1802. Assaye, the first battle in which he commanded,
was won when he was in his thirty-fifth year. He had just entered on his
fortieth year when he took command of that force with which he first
defeated the French in Portugal. He was in his forty-seventh year when
he fought at Waterloo. If he cannot be classed with old generals,
neither can he be placed in the list of youthful soldiers; and so little
confidence had he in his military talents, that at twenty-six he
petitioned to be transferred to the civil service. His powers were
developed by events and time. Some of his Peninsular lieutenants were
older than himself. Craufurd was five years his senior, and was a
capital soldier. Picton, who had some of the highest military qualities,
was almost eleven years older than his chief, and was little short of
fifty-seven when he fell at Waterloo. Lord Hopetoun was six years older
than Wellington. Lord Lynedoch (General Sir Thomas Graham) was in his
sixty-first year when he defeated Maréchal Victor at Barrosa, and in his
sixty-third when he led the left wing of the Allies at Vittoria, which
was the turning battle of the long contest between England and France. A
few months later he took St. Sebastian, after one of the most terrible
sieges known to modern warfare. He continued to serve under Wellington
until France was invaded. Returning to England, he was sent to Holland,
with an independent command; and though his forces were few, so little
had his fire been dulled by time, that he carried the great fortress of
Bergen-op-Zoom by storm, but only to lose it again, with more than two
thousand men, because of the sense and gallantry of the French General
Bezanet, who, like our Rosecrans at Murfreesboro', would not accept
defeat under any circumstances. When Wellington afterward saw the place,
he remarked that it was very strong, and must have been extremely
difficult to enter; "but when once in," he added, "I wonder how the
Devil they suffered themselves to be beaten out again!" Though the old
Scotchman failed on this particular occasion, his boldness and daring
are to be cited in support of the position that energy in war is not the
exclusive property of youth.
Some of the best of the English second-class generals were old men. Lord
Clyde began his memorable Indian campaigns at sixty-six, and certainly
showed no want of talent and activity in their course. He restored, to
all appearance, British supremacy in the East. Sir C.J. Napier was in
his sixty-second year when he conquered Sinde, winning the great Battles
of Meanee and Doobah; and six years later he was sent out to India, as
Commander-in-chief, at the suggestion of Wellington, who said, that, if
Napier would not go, he should go himself. He reached India too late to
fight the Sikhs, but showed great vigor in governing the Indian army. He
died in 1853; had he lived until the next spring, he would
unquestionably have been placed at the head of that force which England
sent first to Turkey and then to Southern Russia. Lord Raglan was almost
sixty-six when he was appointed to his first command, and though his
conduct has been severely criticized, and much misrepresented by many
writers, the opinion is now becoming common that he discharged well the
duties of a very difficult position. Mr. Kinglake's brilliant work is
obtaining justice for the services and memory of his illustrious friend.
Lord Hardinge and Lord Gough were old men when they carried on some of
the fiercest hostilities ever known to the English in India. Sir Ralph
Abercromby was sixty-three when he defeated the French in Egypt, in
1801. Lord Cornwallis was fifty-two when he broke the power of Tippoo
Saib, and prepared the way for his ultimate overthrow. Lord Peterborough
was forty-seven, and had never before held a command or seen much
service, when he set out on that series of extraordinary campaigns which
came so near replacing the Austrian house in possession of Spain and the
Indies. Peterborough has been called the last of the knights-errant;
but, in fact, no book on knight-errantry contains anything half so
wonderful as his deeds in the country of Don Quixote. Sir Eyre Coote,
who had so boldly supported that bold policy which led to the victory of
Plassey, nearly a quarter of a century later supported Hastings in the
field with almost as much vigor as he had supported Clive in council,
and saved British India, when it was assailed by the ablest of all its
foes. His last victories were gained in advanced life, and are ranked
with the highest of those actions to which England owes her wonderful
Oriental dominion. Lord Keane was verging upon sixty when he led the
British forces into Afghanistan, and took Ghuznee. Against all her old
and middle-aged generals, her kings and princes apart, England could
place but very few young commanders of great worth. Clive's case was
clearly exceptional; and Wolfe owed his victory on the Heights of
Abraham as much to Montcalm's folly as to his own audacity. The
Frenchman should have refused battle, when time and climate would soon
have wrought his deliverance and his enemy's ruin.
It is generally held that the wars which grew out of the French
Revolution, and which involved the world in their flames, were chiefly
the work of young men, and that their history illustrates the
superiority of youth over age in the ancient art of human destruction.
But this belief is not well founded, and, indeed, bears a close
resemblance to that other error in connection with the French
Revolution, namely, that it proceeded from the advent of new opinions,
which obtained ascendency,--whereas those opinions were older than
France, and had more than once been aired in France, and there had
struggled for supremacy. The opinions before the triumph of which the
old monarchy went down were much older than that monarchy; but as they
had never before been able definitely to influence the nation's action,
it was not strange that they should be considered new, when there was
nothing new about them save their application. Young opinions, as they
are supposed to have been, are best championed by young men; and hence
it is assumed that the French leaders in the field were youthful heroes,
as were the civil leaders in many instances,--and a very nice mess the
latter made of the business they engaged in, doing little that was well
in it beyond getting their own heads cut off. There are some facts that
greatly help to sustain the position that France was saved from
partition by the exertions of young generals, the new men of the new
time. Hoche, Moreau, Bonaparte, Desaix, Soult, Lannes, Ney, and others,
who early rose to fame in the Revolutionary wars, were all young men,
and their exploits were so great as to throw the deeds of others into
the shade; but the salvation of France was effected before any one of
their number became conspicuous as a leader. Napoleon once said that it
was not the new levies that saved France, but the old soldiers of the
Bourbons; and he was right; and he might have added, that they were led
by old or elderly generals. Dumouriez was in his fifty-fourth year when,
in 1792, he won the Battles of Valmy and Jemmapes; and at Valmy he was
aided by the elder Kellermann, who was fifty-seven. Those two battles
decided the fate of Europe, and laid the foundation of that French
supremacy which endured for twenty years, until Napoleon himself
overthrew it by his mad Moscow expedition. Custine, who also was
successful in 1792, on the side of Germany, was fifty-two. Jourdan and
Pichegru, though not old men, were old soldiers, when, in 1794 and 1795,
they did so much to establish the power of the French Republic, the
former winning the Battle of Fleurus. It was in the three years that
followed the beginning of the war in 1792, that the French performed
those deeds which subsequently enabled Napoleon and his Marshals to
chain victory to their chariots, and to become so drunk from success
that they fell through their own folly rather than because of the
exertions of their enemies. Had the old French generals been beaten at
Valmy, the Prussians would have entered Paris in a few days, the
monarchy would have been restored, and the name of Bonaparte never would
have been heard; and equally unknown would have been the names of a
hundred other French leaders, who distinguished themselves in the
three-and-twenty years that followed the first successes of Dumouriez
and Kellermann. Let honor be given where it is due, and let the fogies
have their just share of it. There can be nothing meaner than to insist
upon stripping gray heads of green laurels.
After the old generals and old soldiers of France had secured
standing-places for the new generation, the representatives of the
latter certainly did make their way brilliantly and rapidly. The school
was a good one, and the scholars were apt to learn, and did credit to
their masters. They carried the tricolor over Europe and into Egypt, and
saw it flying over the capital of almost every member of those
coalitions which had purposed its degradation at Paris. It was the flag
to which men bowed at Madrid and Seville, at Milan and Rome, at Paris
and at the Hague, at Warsaw and Wilna, at Dantzie and in Dalmatia, at
the same time that it was fast approaching Moscow; and it was thought
of with as much fear as hatred at Vienna and Berlin. No wonder that the
world forgot or overlooked the earlier and fewer triumphs of the first
Republican commanders, when dazzled by the glories that shone from
Arcola, the Pyramids, Zürich, Marengo, Hohenlinden, Ulm, Austerlitz,
Jena, Eckmühl, Wagram, Borodino, Lützen, Bautzen, and Dresden. But those
young generals of the Republic and the Empire were sometimes found
unequal to the work of contending against the old generals of the
Coalitionists. Suvaroff was in his seventieth year when he defeated
Macdonald at the Battle of the Trebbia, the Frenchman being but
thirty-four; and a few months later he defeated Joubert, who was thirty,
at Novi. Joubert was one of Bonaparte's generals in his first Italian
wars, and was so conspicuous and popular that he had been selected to
command the Army of Italy by the moderate reactionists, in the hope that
he might there win such glory as should enable him to play the part
which Bonaparte played but a few months later,--Bonaparte being then in
the East, with the English fleets between him and France, so that he was
considered a lost man. "The striking similarity of situation between
Joubert and Bonaparte," says Madame d'Abrantes, "is most remarkable.
They were of equal age, and both, in their early career, suffered a sort
of disgrace; they were finally appointed to command, first, the
seventeenth military division, and afterward the Army of Italy. There is
in all this a curious parity of events; but death soon ended the career
of one of the young heroes. That which ought to have constituted the
happiness of his life was the cause of Joubert's death,--his marriage.
But how could he refrain from loving the woman he espoused? Who can
have forgotten Zaphirine de Montholon, her enchanting grace, her playful
wit, her good humor, and her beauty?" Like another famous soldier,
Joubert loved too well to love wisely. Bonaparte, who never was young,
had received the command of the Army of Italy as the portion of the
ex-mistress of Barras, who was seven years his senior, and, being a
matter-of-fact man, he reduced his _lune de miel_ to three days, and
posted off to his work. He knew the value of time in those days, and not
Cleopatra herself could have kept him from his men. Joubert, more of a
man, but an inferior soldier, took his honeymoon in full measure,
passing a month with his bride; and the loss of that month, if so sweet
a thirty days could be called a loss, ruined him, and perhaps prevented
him from becoming Emperor of the French. The enemy received
reinforcements while he was so lovingly employed, and when he at length
arrived on the scene of action he found that the Allies had obtained
mastery of the situation. It was no longer in the power of the French to
say whether they would fight or not. They had to give battle at Novi,
where the tough old Russian of seventy years asserted his superiority
over the _héros de roman_ who had posted from Paris to retrieve the
fortune of France, and to make his own. When he left Paris, he said to
his wife, "You will see me again, dead or victorious,"--and dead he was,
in less than a month. He fell early in the action, on the fifteenth of
August, 1799, the very day on which Bonaparte completed his thirtieth
year. Moreau took the command, but failed to turn the tide of disaster.
The French are unanimous in ascribing their defeat to Joubert's delay at
Paris, and it is certain that the enemy did take Alexandria and Mantua
during that month's delay, and thus were enabled to add the besieging
forces to their main army, so that Joubert was about to retreat to the
Apennines, and to assume a defensive position, when Suvaroff forced him
to accept battle. But something should be allowed for the genius of the
Russian general, who was one of the great master-spirits of war, and who
seldom fought without being completely victorious. He had mostly been
employed against the Turks, whose military reputation was then at the
lowest, or the Poles, who were too divided and depressed to do
themselves and their cause justice, and therefore his character as a
soldier did not stand so high as that of more than one man who was his
inferior; but when, in his seventieth year, he took command in Italy,
there to encounter soldiers who had beaten the armies of almost all
other European nations, and who were animated by a fanatical spirit as
strong as that which fired his own bosom, he showed himself to be more
than equal to his position. He was not at all at fault, though brought
face to face with an entirely new state of things, but acted with his
accustomed vigor, marching from victory to victory, and reconquering
Italy more rapidly than it had been conquered three years before by
Bonaparte. When Bonaparte was destroying the Austrian armies in Italy,
Suvaroff watched his operations with deep interest, and said that he
must go to the West to meet the new genius, or that Bonaparte would
march to the East against Russia,--a prediction, it has been said, that
was fulfilled to the Frenchman's ruin. Whether, had he encountered
Bonaparte, he would have beaten him, is a question for the ingenious to
argue, but which never can be settled. But one thing is certain, and
that is, that Bonaparte never encountered an opponent of that determined
and energetic character which belonged to Suvaroff until his latter
days, and then his fall was rapid and his ruin utter. That Suvaroff
failed in Switzerland, to which country he had been transferred from
Italy, does not at all impeach his character for generalship. His
failure was due partly to the faults of others, and partly to
circumstances. Switzerland was to him what Russia became to Napoleon in
1812. Massena's victory at Zürich, in which half of Korsakoff's army was
destroyed, rendered Russian failure in the campaign inevitable. All the
genius in the world, on that field of action, could not have done
anything that should have compensated for so terrible a calamity. Zürich
saved France far more than did Marengo, and it is to be noted that it
was fought and won by the oldest of all the able men who figure in
history as Napoleon's Marshals. There were some of the Marshals who were
older than Massena, but they were not men of superior talents. Massena
was forty-one when he defeated Korsakoff, and he was a veteran soldier
when the Revolutionary wars began.
The three commanders who did most to break down Napoleon's power, and to
bring about his overthrow, namely,--Benningsen, and Kutusoff, and
Blücher,--were all old men; and the two last-named were very old men. It
would be absurd to call either of them a great commander, but it is
indisputable that they all had great parts in great wars. Benningsen can
scarcely be called a good general of the second class, and he is mostly
spoken of as a foolish braggart and boaster; but it is a fact that he
did some things at an important time which indicated his possession of
qualities that were highly desirable in a general who was bound to act
against Napoleon. Having, in 1807, obtained command of the Russian army
in Poland, he had what the French considered the consummate impudence to
take the offensive against the Emperor, and compelled him to mass his
forces, and to fight in the dead of winter, and a Polish winter to boot,
in which all that is not ice and snow is mud. True, Napoleon would have
made him pay dear for his boldness, had there not occurred one or two of
those accidents which often spoil the best-laid plans of war; but as it
was, the butcherly Battle of Eylau was fought, both parties, and each
with some show of reason, claiming the victory. Had the Russians acted
on the night after Eylau as the English acted on the night after
Flodden, and remained on the field, the world would have pronounced them
victorious, and the French Empire might have been shorn of its
proportions, and perhaps have fallen, seven years in advance of its
time; but they retreated, and thus the French made a fair claim to the
honors of the engagement, though virtually beaten in the fight.
Benningsen boasted tremendously, and as there were men enough to believe
what he said to be true, because they wished it to be true, and as he
had behaved well on some previous occasions, his reputation was vastly
raised, and his name was in all mouths and on all pens. If the reader
will take the trouble to look over a file of some Federal journal of
1807, he will find Benningsen as frequently and as warmly praised as Lee
or Stonewall Jackson is (or was) praised by English journals in
1863,--for the Federalists hated Napoleon as bitterly as the English
hate us, and read of Eylau with as much unction as the English of to-day
read of the American reverses at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville,
while Austerlitz and Friedland pleased our Federalists about as well as
Donelson and Pulaski please the English of these times. A few months
after Eylau, Benningsen repulsed an attack which Napoleon imprudently
made on his intrenched camp at Heilsberg, which placed another feather
in his cap; nor did the smashing defeat he met with four days later, at
Friedland, lessen his reputation. The world is slow to think poorly of a
man who has done some clever things. We have seen how it was with the
late Stonewall Jackson, concerning whom most men spoke as if he had
never known defeat, though it is, or it should be, notorious, that he
was as often beaten as successful, that more than once he had to fly
with wind-like swiftness to escape personal destruction, and that on one
occasion he was saved from ruin only because of an exhibition on our
side of more than a usual amount of stupidity. But he had repeatedly
showed some of the best qualities of a dashing general, and all else was
overlooked in admiration of the skill and the audacity with which he
then had done his evil work. So it was with Benningsen, and with more
justice. The man who had bearded Napoleon but a few months after Jena,
and not much more than a year after Austerlitz, and who had fought an
even battle with him, in which fifty thousand men fell, must have had
some high moral qualities that entitled him to respect; and he continued
to be much talked of until greater and more fruitful campaigns had
obscured his deeds. The pluck which he had exhibited tended to keep
alive the spirit of European resistance to Napoleon, as it showed that
the conqueror had only to be firmly met to be made to fight hardly for
victory; and that was much, in view of the rapidity with which Napoleon
had beaten both Austria and Russia in 1805, and Prussia in 1806.
Benningsen completed his sixty-second year two days after the Battle of
Eylau. He was employed in 1812, '13, '14, but not in the first line, and
his name is not of much mention in the histories of those eventful
years.
Prince Kutusoff, though a good soldier in the Turkish and Polish wars,
did not have a command against the French until he had completed his
sixtieth year, in 1805, when he led a Russian army to the aid of
Austria. He checked the advance of the French after Ulm, and was in
nominal command of the Allies at Austerlitz; but that battle was really
fought in accordance with the plans of General Weyrother, for which
Kutusoff had a profound contempt. If thorough beating could make good
soldiers of men, the vanquished at Austerlitz ought to have become the
superiors of the victors. In 1812, when the Russians had become weary of
that sound policy which was drawing Napoleon to destruction, Kutusoff
assumed command of their army, and fought the Battle of Borodino, which
was a defeat in name, but a victory in its consequences, to the invaded
party. His conduct while the French were at Moscow had the effect of
keeping them in that trap until their fate was sealed; and his action
while following them on their memorable retreat was a happy mixture of
audacity and prudence, and completed the Russian triumph. Sir Robert
Wilson, who was with the Russian general, who must have found him a bore
of the first magnitude, is very severe on Kutusoff's proceedings; but
all that he says makes it clear that the stout old Russian knew what he
was about, and that he was determined not to be made a mere tool of
England. If success is a test of merit, Kutusoff's action deserves the
very highest admiration, for the French army was annihilated. He died
just after he had brought the greatest of modern campaigns to a
triumphant close, at the age of sixty-eight, and before he could hear
the world's applause. The Germans, who were to owe so much to his
labors, rejoiced at his removal, because he was supposed to belong to
the peace party, who were opposed to further action, and who thought
that their country was under no obligation to fight for the deliverance
of other nations. They feared, too, that, if the war should go on, his
"Muscovite hoof" would be too strong for the Fatherland to bear it; and
they saw in his death a Providential incident, which encouraged them to
move against the French. It is altogether probable, that, if he had
lived but three months longer, events would have taken quite a different
turn. Baron von Müffling tells us that Kutusoff "would not hear a word
of crossing the Elbe; and all Scharnhorst's endeavors to make him more
favorably disposed toward Prussia were fruitless. The whole peace party
in the Russian army joined with the Field-Marshal, and the Emperor was
placed in a difficult position. On my arrival at Altenberg, I found
Scharnhorst deeply dejected, for he could not shut his eyes to the
consequences of this resistance. Unexpectedly, the death of the
obstinate old Marshal occurred on the twenty-eighth of April, and the
Emperor was thus left free to pursue his own policy." The first general
who had successfully encountered Napoleon, it would have been the
strangest of history's strange facts, if the Emperor had owed the
continuance of his reign to Kutusoff's influence, and that was the end
to which the Russian's policy was directed; for, though he wished to
confine French power within proper limits, he had no wish to strengthen
either England or any of the German nations, deeming them likely to
become the enemies of Russia, while he might well suppose that the
French had had enough of Russian warfare to satisfy them for the rest of
the century. Had his astute policy been adopted and acted on, there
never would have been a Crimean War, and Sebastopol would not now be a
ruin; and Russia would have been greater than she is likely to be in our
time, or in the time of our children.
Blücher, who completed the work which Kutusoff began, and in a manner
which the Russian would hardly have approved, was an older man than the
hero of Borodino. When called to the command of the Prussian army, in
March, 1813, he was in his seventy-first year; and he was in his
seventy-third year when his energy enabled him, in the face of
difficulties that no other commander could have overcome, to bring up
more than fifty thousand men to the assistance of Wellington at
Waterloo, losing more than an eighth of their number. He had no military
talent, as the term is generally used. He could not tell whether a plan
was good or bad. He could not understand the maps. He was not a
disciplinarian, and he was ignorant of all the details of preparing an
army, of clothing and feeding and arming it. In all those things which
it is supposed a commander should know, and which such commanders as
Napoleon and Wellington did know well, he was so entirely ignorant, that
he might have been raised to the head of an army of United States
Volunteers amid universal applause. He was vicious to an extent that
surprised even the fastest men of that vicious time,--a gambler, a
drunkard, and a loose liver every way, indulging in vices that are held
by mild moralists to be excusable in youth who are employed in sowing
wild oats, but which are universally admitted to be disgusting in those
upon whom age has laid its withering hand. Yet this vicious and ignorant
old man had more to do with bringing about the fall of Napoleon than all
the generals and statesmen of the Allies combined. He had energy, which
is the most valuable of all qualities in a military leader; and he
hated Napoleon as heartily as he hated Satan, and a great deal more
heartily than he hated sin. Mr. Dickens tells us that the vigorous
tenacity of love is always much stronger than hate, and perhaps he is
right, so far as concerns private life; but in public life hate is by
far the stronger passion. But for Blücher's hatred of Napoleon the
campaign of 1813 would have terminated in favor of the Emperor, that of
1814 never would have been undertaken, and that of 1815, if ever
attempted, would have had a far different issue. The old German
disregarded all orders and suggestions, and set all military and
political principles at defiance, in his ardor to accomplish the one
purpose which he had in view; and as that purpose was accomplished, he
has taken his place in history as one of the greatest of soldiers.
Napoleon himself is not more secure of immortality. He was greatly
favored by circumstances, but he is a wise man who knows how to profit
from circumstances. Take Blücher out of the wars of 1813-15, and there
is little left in them on the side of the Allies that is calculated to
command admiration. Next to Blücher stands his celebrated chief of the
staff, General Count Gneisenau, who was the brains of the Army of
Silesia, Blücher being its head. When Blücher was made an LL.D. at
Oxford, he facetiously remarked, "If I am a doctor, here is my
pill-maker," placing his hand on Gneisenau's head,--which was a frank
acknowledgment that few men would have been able to make. Gneisenau was
fifty-three when he became associated with Blücher, and he was
fifty-five when he acted with him in 1815. In 1831 he was appointed to
an important command, being then seventy-one. The celebrated
Scharnhorst, Gneisenau's predecessor, and to whom the Prussians owed so
much, was in his fifty-seventh year when he died of the wounds he had
received at the Battle of Lützen.
There are some European generals whom it is difficult to class, as they
showed great capacity and won great victories as well in age as in
youth. Prince Eugène was one of these, and Frederick of Prussia was
another. Eugène showed high talent when very young, and won the first of
his grand victories over the Turks at thirty-four; but it was not so
splendid an affair as that of Belgrade, which he won at fifty-four. He
was forty-three when he defeated the French at Turin, under
circumstances and with incidents that took attention even from
Marlborough, whom he subsequently aided to gain the victories of
Oudenarde and Malplaquet, as he had previously aided him at Blenheim. At
seventy-one Eugène led an Austrian army against the French; and though
no battle was fought, his conduct showed that he had not lost his
capacity for command. Frederick began his military life when in his
thirtieth year, and was actively engaged until thirty-three, showing
striking ability on several occasions, though he began badly, according
to his own admission. But it was in the Seven Years' War that his fame
as a soldier was won, and that contest began when he was in his
forty-fifth year. He was close upon forty-six when he gained the Battles
of Rossbach and Leuthen. Whatever opinion others may entertain as to his
age, it is certain that he counted himself an old man in those days.
Writing to the Marquis d'Argens, a few days before he was forty-eight,
he said, "In my old age I have come down almost to be a theatrical
king"; and not two years later he wrote to the same friend, "I have
sacrificed my youth to my father, and my manhood to my fatherland. I
think, therefore, I have acquired the right to my old age." He reckoned
by trials and events, and he had gone through enough to have aged any
man. Those were the days when he carried poison on his person, in order
that, should he be completely beaten, or captured, he might not adorn
Maria Theresa's triumph, but end his life "after the high Roman
fashion." When the question of the Bavarian succession threatened to
lead to another war with Austria, Frederick's action, though he was in
his sixty-seventh year, showed, to use the homely language of the
English soldier at St. Helena when Napoleon arrived at that famous
watering place, that he had many campaigns in his belly yet. The
youthful Emperor, Joseph II., would have been no match for the old
soldier of Liegnitz and Zorndorf.
Some of Frederick's best generals were old men. Schwerin, who was killed
in the terrible Battle of Prague, was then seventy-three, and a soldier
of great reputation. Sixteen years before he had won the Battle of
Mollwitz, one of the most decisive actions of that time, from which
Frederick himself is said to have run away in sheer fright. General
Ziethen, perhaps the best of all modern cavalry commanders, was in his
fifty-eighth year when the Seven Years' War began, and he served through
it with eminent distinction, and most usefully to his sovereign. He
could not have exhibited more dash, if he had been but eight-and-twenty,
instead of eight-and-fifty, or sixty-five, as he was when peace was
made. Field-Marshal Keith, an officer of great ability, was sixty when
he fell at Hochkirchen, after a brilliant career.
American military history is favorable to old generals. Washington was
in his forty-fourth year when he assumed command of the Revolutionary
armies, and in his fiftieth when he took Yorktown. Wayne and Greene were
the only two of our young generals of the Revolution who showed decided
fitness for great commands. Had Hamilton served altogether in the field,
his would have been the highest military name of the war. The absurd
jealousies that deprived Schuyler of command, in 1777, alone prevented
him from standing next to Washington. He was close upon forty-four when,
he gave way to Gates, who was forty-nine. The military reputation of
both Schuyler and Hamilton has been most nobly maintained by their
living descendants. Washington was called to the command of the American
forces at sixty-six, when it was supposed that the French would attempt
to invade the United States, which shows that the Government of that day
had no prejudice against old generals. General Jackson's great Louisiana
campaign was conducted when he was nearly forty-eight, and he was, from
almost unintermitted illness, older in constitution than in years. Had
General Scott had means at his disposal, we should have been able to
point to a young American general equal to any who is mentioned in
history; but our poverty forbade him an opportunity in war worthy of his
genius. It "froze the genial current of his soul." As a veteran leader,
he was most brilliantly distinguished. He was in his sixty-first year
when he set out on his memorable Mexican campaign, which was an unbroken
series of grand operations and splendid victories, such as are seldom to
be found in the history of war. The weight of years had no effect on
that magnificent mind. Of him, as it was of Carnôt, it can be said that
he organized victory, and made it permanent. His deeds were all the
greater because of the feeble support he received from his Government.
Like Wellington, in some of his campaigns, he had to find within himself
the resources which were denied him by bad ministers. General Taylor was
in his sixty-second year when the Mexican War began, and in less than a
year he won the Battles of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Monterey, and
Buena Vista. He, too, was badly supported. The Secession War has been
conducted by elderly or middle-aged men. General Lee, whom the world
holds to have displayed the most ability in it, is about fifty-six.
General Rosecrans is forty-four, and General Grant forty-two. Stonewall
Jackson died at thirty-seven. General Banks is forty-eight, General
Hooker forty-five, General Beauregard forty-six, General Bragg
forty-nine, General Burnside forty, General Gillmore thirty-nine,
General Franklin forty-one, General Magruder fifty-three, General Meade
forty-eight, General Schuyler Hamilton forty-two, General Charles S.
Hamilton forty, and General Foster forty. General Lander, a man of
great promise, died in his fortieth year. General Kearney was killed at
forty-seven, and General Stevens at forty-five. General Sickles was in
his forty-first year when he was wounded at Gettysburg, and General Reno
was thirty-seven when he died so bravely at South Mountain. General
Pemberton lost Vicksburg at forty-five. General T.W. Sherman is
forty-six, and General W. T. Sherman forty-four. General McClellan was
in his thirty-fifth year when he assumed command at Washington in 1861.
General Lyon had not completed the first month of his forty-third year
when he fell at Wilson's Creek. General McDowell was in his forty-third
year when he failed at Bull Run, in consequence of the coming up of
General Joe Johnston, who was fifty-one. General Keyes is fifty-three,
General Kelley fifty-seven, General King forty, and General Pope
forty-one. General A.S. Johnston was fifty-nine when he was killed at
Shiloh. General Halleck is forty-eight. General Longstreet is forty. The
best of the Southern cavalry-leaders was General Ashby, who was killed
at thirty-eight. General Stuart is twenty-nine. On our side, General
Stanley is thirty, General Pleasonton forty, and General Averell about
thirty. General Phelps is fifty-one, General Polk fifty-eight, General
S. Cooper sixty-eight, General J. Cooper fifty-four, and General Blunt
thirty-eight. The list might be much extended, but very few young men
would be found in it,--or very few old men, either. The best of our
leaders are men who have either passed beyond middle life, or who may be
said to be in the enjoyment of that stage of existence. It is so, too,
with the Rebels. If the war does not afford many facts in support of the
position that old generals are very useful, neither does it afford many
to be quoted by those who hold that the history of heroism is the
history of youth.
* * * * *